For Better or Worse

by Al Lamanda

  Oz was the quiet to Regan’s storm.

  I flipped burgers and turned the tips.

  “I call the man tomorrow and tell him forty,” Oz said.

  The dog and cat caught the scent of the grill and quit wrestling each other and came to my side.

  “You’ll get your swag,” I told them.

  Regan looked at me. “What’s ‘swag’?” she asked.

  “Old people talk,” Oz said. “Means your cut of the ill-gotten gains.”

  “Are you old, Dad?” Regan said.

  “Ancient,” I said. “Now who wants food?”

  “Don’t forget their swag,” Regan said.

  * * *

  After driving Regan and Oz back to the house, I sat in the backyard with Oz, and we each sipped from a cold glass of milk.

  The night was warm, the sky clear with millions of stars overhead.

  “You know what I miss on a night like this?” Oz said.

  “A tall glass of scotch over ice,” I said.

  “Read my mind,” Oz said.

  “You don’t pass out and wake up with a freight train in your head from too much milk,” I said.

  “Everything have an upside,” Oz said. “Even a glass of milk.”

  I finished the last few sips of my milk and stood up.

  “I have to get going,” I said. “Watch all the kids for me.”

  “Hey, Bekker, Walt gonna be alright. Right?” Oz said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Walt gonna be alright.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  I went for an early run, and then worked the heavy and speed bags for about an hour. I took a cool down in my chair with a mug of coffee before hitting the shower.

  While waiting to cool down, I called Jane on her cell phone.

  “Feel like being bad?” I said.

  “I’m only on my third cup of coffee, Jack. Ask me again around noon when my motor is running,” Jane said.

  “Not that kind of bad,” I said.

  “Is there another?”

  “Later this afternoon, I’d like to run some things through the system,” I said.

  “By ‘the’ system, you mean mine?” Jane said.

  “Correct.”

  “And by ‘things’ you mean names?”

  “Also correct.”

  “And it has to do with Walt’s defense?”

  “Also, also correct.”

  “Make it late this afternoon so you can take me to dinner,” Jane said. “A really expensive dinner.”

  “That might constitute a bribe,” I said.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll let myself off with a warning,” Jane said.

  “I’ll see you around four,” I said.

  After getting off the phone with Jane, I had cooled down enough to grab a shower. I had one clean white shirt left to go with a tan summer suit. By the time I dressed, it was time to take a drive and see Venus.

  * * *

  “Is ten years enough?” Venus said.

  “For a start,” I said. “I doubt it’s anything later than that.”

  “Well, let’s get started,” Venus said.

  She checked records for arrests where the perp was sentenced to Coleman in Florida. After about an hour, the list contained sixty-four names.

  We broke for the lunch I owed her as payment.

  “What do you feel like?” I said, as we walked to my car.

  “A nice bacon cheeseburger,” Venus said.

  “Sounds good. Where?”

  “Christies,” Venus said.

  “Why am I not surprised?” I said.

  “The devil gets his cut, Bekker. Always,” Venus said. “You should know that by now.”

  “You need a reservation,” I said.

  “I know,” Venus said.

  Christies Steakhouse served a thirty-six-dollar cheeseburger. The burger was one pound of beef, six slices of bacon, covered in melted cheese, and served on a crusty club roll. A pound of seasoned fries and a bucket of cold slaw added to the fun.

  Venus ate her burger with a knife and fork. I cut mine in half and ate it the old-fashioned way.

  “When we get back, that number is going to double, maybe more,” Venus said. “What do you plan to do with all those names?”

  “I don’t know yet,” I said.

  “Do you think one of these assholes is behind all this?”

  I took a large bite of my thirty-six-dollar burger and shrugged.

  “You’re not very good at playing dumb, Bekker,” Venus said.

  “Who’s playing?” I said.

  “Do you know how unlikely it is for one of these scumbags to be behind this?” Venus said.

  “Somewhere between very unlikely and impossible,” I said.

  “But you’re going to try anyway.”

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  “I’d smack my head into a brick wall for Walt,” Venus said.

  “So, we’re doing the same thing,” I said.

  “Minus the bloody nose,” Venus said.

  Neither of us had room for dessert, but we settled for coffee.

  Then we headed back to the station, and Venus resumed work.

  By three o’clock, she handed me a computer-generated list of one hundred and thirteen names.

  “What are you going to do now?” Venus said.

  “Homework.”

  “I have two little monsters at home that are good at homework if you get stuck,” Venus said.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. “And thank you.”

  * * *

  I sat in my car and wished for a cigarette. When the urge passed, I called Carly.

  “How did the meeting with Brooks go?” I said.

  “Underwood and Phelps turned over their records on Smith to Brooks,” Carly said. “Brooks is reading everything himself first, and wants to see us tomorrow morning at ten. Where are you?”

  “Running down a lead,” I said. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

  “Harry and I want to do some work. How do we get into the trailer?” Carly said.

  “Under the grill is a magnetic key holder,” I said.

  “We’ll be around until six or so, will you be there?” Carly said.

  “I’ll let you know.”

  * * *

  “A hundred and thirteen names?” Jane said.

  “Only going back ten years,” I said. “It could be more down the road.”

  I set the very thick file on Jane’s desk.

  “From Venus?” Jane said.

  I nodded.

  “She’d love to get her claws into you, you know,” Jane said.

  “She’s helping me help Walt,” I said. “Nothing more.”

  “Keep thinking that, and where do you want to start?” she said.

  “Process of elimination first,” I said. “Let’s run through the list and remove anyone who is dead or back in prison.”

  Jane swung her chair around to face the computer on the table to her left. “Pull up a chair, big guy, this is gonna take a while,” she said.

  “A while” turned out to be three hours.

  Of the one hundred and thirteen names, eleven had died and thirty-one were back in prison. Of the thirty-one, all had been arrested and sent back at least one year ago. The timeline eliminated them as suspects.

  “That leaves seventy-one names to track down,” Jane said. “What do you want to do next?”

  “A complete bio on the remaining seventy-one,” I said.

  “You’re talking days,” Jane said.

  “I know,” I said. “We can at least start before we call it a day.”

  “You and I have different definitions of the word day,” Jane said.

  I looked at my watc
h. It was a few minutes past six. “Give me an hour and I’ll take you to dinner,” I said.

  “My pick?”

  “Your pick.”

  “Okay,” Jane sighed, and went back to working her computer.

  By seven, she had a complete bio on six names off the list.

  “I can’t promise you how many I can get to tomorrow, but I’ll do my best,” Jane said. “Now, let’s get out of here, I’m starving.”

  “Where?”

  “Christies. Know it?”

  “You need a reservation.”

  “I know.”

  * * *

  The woman at the reservations desk gave me an odd look, as she had seen me just seven hours earlier with Venus at lunch.

  We were led to a cozy table for two in a corner beside a window. Jane ordered steak and I, still full of noontime beef, went with baked chicken.

  “What do you plan to do with the six names I gave you?” Jane said.

  “Read them.”

  “Any evidence as to who planted the money in Grand Cayman?” Jane said.

  “No.”

  “So, how do the lawyers plan to beat this?”

  “A dismissal to buy time,” I said.

  “Let me say that another way,” Jane said. “How do you plan to beat this?”

  “Turn over every rock I can think of until I find whoever is hiding under it,” I said.

  “Starting with those six rocks I printed out for you,” Jane said.

  “Police work is nothing but Point A to Point B, you know that,” I said.

  “Sometimes Point C gets in the way,” Jane said.

  “Is that your way of telling me to keep it honest?” I said.

  “If you were still on the job and Walt was a stranger, how would you handle this if it came across your desk?” Jane asked. “Would the stranger get the same presumption of innocence as Walt is getting because he’s your friend?”

  “If you think otherwise, then the twenty years we’ve known each other has been a waste of time and energy,” I said.

  Jane looked at me and nodded. “Good boy,” she said. “I think I’ll check out the dessert menu, and no comments about my waistline.”

  * * *

  I dropped Jane off at her cruiser. We made plans to spend the weekend together, and then I drove home to the trailer.

  I made a bonfire in the trashcan as well as a pot of coffee, and took a mug and the six reports to my chair.

  Before I settled in to read, I called Carly and asked her to pick me up on the way to see Judge Brooks in the morning.

  Then I spent about two hours reading and rereading the six reports from Jane.

  Two of the six were brothers and small-time bank robbers who served fifteen years of a twenty-year sentence. Both were arrested in the act by officers from Walt’s house. Since their parole, they worked for the parks department driving garbage trucks around the parks.

  Number three was a check forger who went down for the second time five years ago and served three years of a five-year stretch. He was busted by two of Walt’s detectives. Since his parole, he’s worked as a chef at the homeless shelter run by the Catholic Church.

  Number four was busted in an FBI/DEA sting nine years ago that was started by Walt when he was still a lieutenant. He did every day of the seven-year sentence he received. He’s fifty-seven years old and upon his release, he moved to Michigan to live with his daughter. He presently worked as the janitor in the apartment building he lives in with his daughter.

  Number five was a lowlife mobster who exchanged information for a reduced sentence after being busted by Walt’s detectives. After serving three of five years, he was relocated to an undisclosed location under a new identity.

  Number six was a con artist type who flimflammed old ladies out of their social security checks and life savings. Walt was still a lieutenant in charge of the detective division when he arrested this genius.

  I didn’t bother to process all this information and tossed the files aside.

  None of them had the resources to pull off something like what was done to Walt.

  These were just ordinary, stupid criminals, as most were.

  To do to Walt what was done required three things: brains, balls, and resources.

  Some criminals had one of those, sometimes two, but to possess all three of those qualities was most unusual.

  Almost unheard of, despite the super villains you see in the movies.

  Around midnight, I headed inside and crawled into bed.

  As I tossed and turned waiting for sleep, it occurred to me that Eddie Crist had all three qualities to take down a police captain and never did.

  To a lesser degree, Jimmy DeMarko had the same qualities.

  Both were hardened, career mobsters at the top of their food chain, but they also understood the rules of the life they had chosen.

  In old Noir movies, the mob boss always swears revenge upon the copper that locked him up.

  In real life, that was a line never crossed.

  I finally fell asleep thinking I was looking for an entirely different animal.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Judge Brooks received us in his office at the courthouse. Phelps, Underwood, and Napier sat in chairs on one side of the conference table, while Carly, Harry, Kagan and I occupied chairs on the opposite side.

  Brooks looked at us all from his place at the head of the table. “I’ve read these logbooks carefully,” he said. “The FBI and Internal Affairs Division have kept meticulous records on meetings held with Smith, how much he was paid, and the details of those meetings.”

  Brooks tapped the logbooks with his fingers. “But you know what I don’t see?” he said. “References to Smith’s sources of his information. In other words, his contacts.”

  “Your honor,” Underwood said.

  “Be quiet, Mr. Underwood,” Brooks said. “Now, did you misunderstand me when I said to turn over everything?”

  Underwood sighed. “May I speak?”

  “By all means,” Brooks said.

  “Identities of informants need to be protected or we risk putting their lives in jeopardy,” Underwood said. “If their lives are in danger, we will lose our informants, and they provide a valuable service to the FBI and police alike.”

  “I promise I won’t tell a soul,” Brooks said. “And neither will the defense.”

  “How can we be sure the information won’t be leaked?” Napier said.

  “I resent that,” Carly said.

  “I do, too,” Brooks said.

  “I apologize to the defense and to his honor, but the risk to any informant is high enough as it is without their names being made available to the public,” Napier said.

  “Your honor, we don’t want to disclose any identity. But we do need to know the credibility of Mr. Smith’s information,” Carly said.

  “I agree,” Brooks said. “I’ll have the names of Mr. Smith’s street contacts by this afternoon. I’ll decide then if they need to be made available to the defense.”

  * * *

  Around five in the afternoon, just as I returned from a run, Jane called me on my cell phone.

  “I have thirty more names for you, but if you want them you’ll have to come get them. I’m stuck in the office,” she said.

  “I’ll come get them,” I said.

  Carly and Harry were at the table. Carly looked at me. “Come get what?” she said.

  “Something I’m working on,” I said. “Call it a theory.”

  I grabbed a quick shower, changed, and drank a glass of orange juice before I left.

  “How long are you staying?” I asked Carly.

  “We’re formatting a line of questioning for Smith,” Carly said. “A little while longer, anyway.”

  “I won’
t be long,” I said. “I can pick up a couple of pizzas on the way back.”

  Carly and Harry exchanged glances.

  “From?” Carly said.

  “Arthur’s on Tremont Avenue,” Harry said. “Brick oven. It’s the best.”

  “I know it. What do you guys want for toppings?”

  “Everything,” Carly said.

  “Call it in, and I’ll pick it up on the way back,” I said. “Wait about an hour and then call.”

  * * *

  Jane met me out front and hopped into my car for a few minutes. She had a thick file folder and set it on my lap.

  “My senior night deputy has the flu, so I’m pulling double duty,” Jane said.

  “We’re still on for the weekend?” I said.

  “He’s either going to get well or die. Either way, we’re still on,” Jane said. “Right now I gotta go.”

  On the way back, I stopped by Arthur’s and picked up the two pizzas and a bag of garlic rolls, and was back at the trailer before sunset.

  Carly and Harry cleared the table while I made a bonfire in the trashcan.

  Harry was a two-slice man. He stacked two slices together, folded them in the middle and went to town.

  Carly ate hers with a knife and fork, while I followed Harry’s lead and double stacked. There were a dozen garlic rolls in the bag, and we polished off all twelve of them.

  “What are you up to, Bekker, with all this sneaking around?” Carly said.

  “It’s not sneaking if I tell you where I’m going,” I said.

  “But not what you’re up to,” Carly said.

  “Looking for someone who has a motive for revenge,” I said.

  Carly glanced at the folder Jane gave me that I had set on the edge of the table. “In there?” she said.

  “Possibly,” I said.

  “Do you need help?” Carly said.

  “You have enough to do,” I said.

  The sun was about to set, and we watched it touch the horizon.

  “Will you be available tomorrow?” Carly said.

  “I don’t think I need to be there to hear the judge’s ruling,” I said.

  “We’ll say goodnight then, and call you in the morning,” Carly said.

  After Carly and Harry left, I sat beside the bonfire and read the newest reports. I turned on the floodlight over the door to the trailer and read until midnight, and found not one damn thing worthwhile.