by Billy Kring
“But without papers.”
“Without papers, yes.”
“How did you make arrangements?”
“Port de Paix has many smugglers. We talked to one who said he could take us.”
“Was that man Jean Claude Villard?”
Her eyes rolled away from Woodson and she focused on the corner of the room. “No, it was the big crewman. He and his men arranged it all.”
“His men?”
“The other crewmen. They were all together.”
“Was Mr. Villard present at any time during these meetings?”
“No.”
“When did you first see him?”
“When the crewmen kidnapped him from another vessel and forced him to captain our ship.”
Hunter rubbed her temples. Andre said, “This isn’t over by a long shot.” He winked at her, and that cooled her off a little. Not much, but a little.
Woodson pushed the question, “How did they keep him on board. Couldn’t he refuse?”
“He did at first. But they beat him with sticks, and told him they knew where he lived and would kill all his children if he refused. He knew there was no choice except to sail the ship to Florida.”
Woodson said, “Tell us about the voyage, what you saw.”
We came on the ship at night, and the crewmen put us all in the hold.” She shuddered. “It was dark, and stank. There were too many people inside.”
“Go on.”
“It was so hot, and we had no water. Some men pushed open the hold and got on the deck. But they were tossed overboard.”
Woodson asked, “Were you in the hold for the entire trip?”
“No. I was one of the first women to come out of the hold. They made me sit on the deck and watch.”
“What did you see?”
“Crewmen throwing people overboard as they came out of the hold.” She glanced at Villard. “And Captain Villard trying to stop them.”
John and Hunter looked at each other. Hunter mouthed, God-o-mighty.
Woodson said to the woman, “Do you know how many they threw overboard?”
“So many I could not count. More than a hundred.”
“What else did you see?”
“Sharks. Behind the ship, eating those in the sea.”
Woodson looked at the Justice Attorneys as he said to the woman, “That is horrifying. You are very brave to tell us your story.”
She said, looking at the bare corner again, “It is the truth.”
Woodson said, “Did you witness anything else about Captain Villard?”
She nodded, “He brought us water, and some food, even though the crewmen threatened him. He whispered to us what he was going to do.”
“What was that?”
“Run the ship aground so we could escape the crewmen. And live in America.”
Woodson said, “One final question. Why did you voluntarily come here to tell us your story?”
She looked at Villard, “I heard he had been arrested and accused of terrible crimes that I knew he did not commit. He saved all of us, and should be free to walk under the sun as the good man he is.”
Woodson said, “Thank you.” She left the room.
Hunter asked Grant, “She’s here illegally, are you going to let her walk out of the building?”
Grant said, “They’ve all been given temporary status as government witnesses.”
“All of them, or just these forty?”
Grant looked irritated, “Does it matter? These do, and they are who we are interested in.” He turned to Woodson, “Please continue, Mr. Woodson.”
Woodson called for another Haitian, but this one only spoke Creole. The translator interpreted everything, from the Haitian to English, and from English to Creole for the Haitian. The same questions were asked, and the same answers were given. Villard was a hero, a benevolent man, and innocent. The translations tripled the time the questions and answers took to finish.
The next witness was the same, with the translator doing all the work. Through all of them, the stories were identical.
At noon, Grant had sandwiches and soft drinks brought in, and they continued through the lunch hour without a break.
The last Haitian finished their statement at 3:30PM.
Grant asked Hunter, “Is there anything you would like to add to these testimonies?”
John touched Hunter’s forearm as a warning not to blow up. She took a deep breath, let it out and said, “Did you and the other attorneys listen to the sworn testimony tape Andre and I made at Krome? The woman’s name was Molita Issone, and she was also on the ship that Jean Claude Villard captained. Her story is the real one, and she was poisoned for speaking out against him.” She indicated Villard with a nod of her head.
Grant said, “We listened to it, and took it into consideration. She had no evidence to back up her version–,”
“Neither do the forty who spoke today.” Hunter said.
Grant said, “But they are forty to one, Agent Kincaid. Nothing was found on the ship to contradict the testimony today.”
“And the fact that Molita Issone was murdered while in government custody, that doesn’t tell you something?”
“She wasn’t murdered. We received the results yesterday, and the results collaborate testimonies from others who were in Krome with Ms. Issone.”
Hunter said, “What were the results, since you kept it as a surprise until after this, this whatever it was today. Can you tell us now?”
Grant said, “Agent Kincaid, Agent Benton, and Detectives Quick and Ishtee, we are not your enemies here. We have to be able to present a case that has enough evidence to get a conviction, and this has none of that.”
John said, “You’re dodging the question. What were the results?”
Grant said, “She self-overdosed on illegal drugs. The others said Ms. Issone was a drug user, and was desperate while in Krome, so she resorted to making her own drugs from what she could obtain.”
Andre said, “Unless she had access to the pharmacy, what could she have?”
“She was an herbalist in Haiti. At Krome, a witness saw her catch several cane toads and collect the secretions from their backs after she agitated and squeezed them. The witness also saw Ms. Issone find foxglove growing in a flowerbed. She took several plants. There were other plant signatures that turned up in the toxicology report, but the cane toad secretions and the foxglove were primary, and caused her erratic behavior and her death. She also had stomach ulcers, which resulted in the blood in her vomit. One witness saw her put the ingredients in her breakfast that morning before your interview.”
John said, “And what we saw happening when the ship came in and grounded?”
“Your testimonies don’t contradict what these witnesses said today. And Agent Benton, you arrived after the fact and did not see Mr. Villard at the scene, am I correct?”
Andre said, “Yes.”
Grant said, “All right. Are there any more questions or statements?”
Hunter said, “I’d like to say that whoever coached those people on their testimony did a bang-up job. Forty statements, and all of them almost identical. I thought for a while that someone had a teleprompter in the room feeding the witnesses lines. But that wouldn’t be right, would it? Someone telling them what to say?” she widened her eyes and opened her mouth as if realizing something, “Why, that would make all of them guilty of perjury.” Hunter held up her index finger as if making a point, “Ah, but it wouldn’t be perjury, because we–” she looked at Grant, “made the decision not to do this in court.”
No one said a word. Grant’s face reddened. He shuffled papers for a moment and then said, “I recommend that Jean Claude Villard be released, and all charges against him dropped.” He faced Jean Claude, “Mr. Villard, you are free to go.”
Jean Claude rose, looked at Hunter and pointed his hand sideways at her, gangsta style, with the first two fingers extended like a pistol and the thumb cocked like the hammer, then he
left the room.
John said, “That sonofabitch.” Hunter saw a vein pulsing in his temple.
Villard’s display and John’s response didn’t faze Woodson. He said to Grant, “I assume this concludes our business?”
Grant said, “It does, Mr. Woodson, thank you for your input on this matter.” Woodson left, and when the door closed, Grant rose from his chair and faced the others. “He’s guilty and we all know it. But without evidence there’s no chance to win.” He looked at Hunter, “I’m as pissed as you are, but pressure on this comes from very high up, and if I’m going to be fired, I want it to be because we won the case.”
Hunter asked, “Did someone threaten you?”
“They’re more subtle than that. These are politicians and lawyers we’re talking about.”
“Was it the U.S. Attorney?”
Grant had a grim smile, “Not hardly. He excused himself because he’s furious about being told what to do. He believes Villard is guilty.”
“Then why don’t we push it?” Hunter said.
“Most of us have families, and we live paycheck to paycheck. To be a government attorney and be fired, it not only takes this job, but the damage to our reputations would make us unemployable, even in the private sector. I’m not kidding. That’s how much pressure is coming down.”
Andre said, “Were people in the Haitian Government involved? Does President Martelly know of this? Did he authorized it and tell his people that they should use their connections to our government to push this?”
Grant said, “No comment.”
Hunter said, “Villard’s dirty, so we might get another chance at him.”
“Villard’s on our radar, that’s for sure,” Andre said.
Grant said, “I’d like another shot at him, too. Make no mistake, though, Woodson is a very good attorney, so we have to be solid.”
As they rose to leave, Hunter said to Grant, “You’re a pretty good actor. You had me believing you were on their side.”
Grant said, “You’re a good actor yourself. I thought you were about ready to shoot me when you said some of those things.”
“Oh, I wasn’t acting.”
John said to Grant, “Impulsive, Agent Kincaid is impulsive.”
Hunter said to Grant, “I’m okay with you now, so we’re good, right?”
Grant felt off-balance when she looked directly at him, something about what he saw in her eyes, like what he thought a target would see as she prepared to shoot it. He said, “Yes, we’re good.”
Outside the building, John said to Hunter, “You coming over to Randall’s tonight?”
Randall said, “We’re having lobster. A friend of mine went diving in the keys yesterday and dropped off six lobsters in the car, already iced down. We get two apiece, if you’re interested.”
Hunter said, “In new Common Core math, I would get four and you two would get one each. That’s the fair way to do it.”
John said, “Oh no, none of that stuff.”
Andre said, “Don’t fight. I’ll give one to each of you and keep the rest so you don’t beat each other to a pulp.”
Randall said, “He has a point. Will three be enough to feed you and the family?”
Andre grinned, “I believe it will, and for a good cause.”
“Cause?” Hunter said.
“World Peace.” Andre said.
Jean Claude watched them from three blocks away as they got in their vehicles and left. He made a call and said, “I’m following them,” then hung up his phone and pulled out into traffic, staying back to maintain the three-block distance. He opened the glove box and saw the Beretta in place, then closed it. He was ready, and eager. There might be some payback tonight.
As Andre drove, Hunter said, “I wonder how Woodson rounded up all those Haitians to testify. When they left the ship, everyone scattered like quail.”
Andre said, “I remember, we caught less than a dozen, and most of those were still in the water.”
“Do you have Grant’s number?”
“I do.”
“Would you ask him if he knows? It’s gnawing at me.”
Andre called on the car phone, putting it on speaker so they both could talk. Grant answered, “Kenneth Grant.”
“Mr. Grant, it’s Andre Benton and Hunter Kincaid.”
“What can I do for you?”
“We were wondering how Mr. Woodson found all his witnesses.”
“He solicited help from someone influential in the Haitian community.”
“Do you know who?”
“Yes, wait a moment, I have his name right here.” They heard papers shuffle, “Here it is. He’s in Miami, a businessman. Marc Dessaline.”
Hunter looked at Andre, then said on the phone to Grant, “Thanks, Kenneth.”
“Call me Ken. You’re welcome.” He hung up.
“Well, well,” Hunter said.
Andre said, “First thing tomorrow? We go down there and pay a visit.”
“Yep. Tonight we have to eat lobster.”
“I like the way you prioritize.”
~*~
When Ariel left Sawgrass Mills and drove to get Denson’s money, she thought about calling Hunter, but decided to play it as ordered. No cops. This was Pansy’s wellbeing and she wouldn’t take chances with that. She took an hour to reach Denson’s home and locate the money buried in the back yard. It was under a waist-high concrete birdbath. When Ariel pushed it over, the small moneybox was there in a square hole. She didn’t open it, just took it to the car, checked the address where she needed to deliver it, and drove away.
The address where they held Pansy was located in Hialeah, in a rundown neighborhood with empty homes, loose trash blowing across the streets, hungry-looking stray dogs wandering the alleys looking for food of any kind, and people sitting on porches drinking and smoking.
Ariel drove by the address to look it over: A small white stucco house with overgrown foliage, and a light on inside that she could see through the curtain over the picture window. No cars anywhere.
She parked two blocks behind the house, and walked towards it. Ariel eased into the alley that ran behind the house, and peeked around the corner of the neighbor’s fence to the unfenced back yard of the white house.
The back door was open, with only a screen door in place. She saw no movement inside, heard no noises. She watched for any movement and any sign of Pansy. After ten minutes, she couldn’t shake the growing feeling of dread, and decided to return to the car. She would park in front of the house, leave the money on the porch and wait in the Ford for Pansy to come out. Her nerves worked overtime as she turned to leave.
Ringo Bazin stood at the end of the alley, with Denson beside him.
Ariel raced off like a frightened deer and ran straight through the back door of the empty house, tearing the screen off the hinges. She hurried down the hall to the front door and jerked it open just as Ringo and two others reached the back and hurried into the house. They didn’t yell for her to stop, but instead were as silent as ghosts as they closed the distance on their prey.
As Ariel raced out the front, Denson came around the corner of the house. She leaped off the porch and sprinted through the open gate into the street, where cars screeched to a stop and honked horns as she dodged between two of them and slid across the hood of another to go rolling on the asphalt and coming up running.
Ringo made a call on his phone and motioned with his hands for the others to cut her off if she went left or right. He smiled when hanging up the phone, and slowed to a walk.
She covered three more zigzag blocks and started across traffic, when a van slowed and a woman waved for her to get inside. “Hurry!” The woman said. Ariel glanced over her shoulder and saw a man still pursuing her. “They are coming!” The woman said, motioning with her hand to get in the van.
Ariel grabbed the handle on the sliding side door, opened it and hopped inside. The woman sped away as the door closed. A voice said, “Now, witch, sit and b
e still.” It was Marc Dessaline, in the rear seat.
Ariel grabbed the handle to open the door, but it had locked when the driver accelerated. Dessaline pointed, “Sit.”
She sat. They rode in silence, and Ariel looked at the driver’s profile. It took a moment, but recognition came: this is the woman who was Marinette Bois Sèch.
Dessaline said, “I am taking you to Pansy Brown.”
“Is she all right?”
Dessaline didn’t answer as he pulled his phone out, hit the numbers and said, “Meet us there.”
Ariel said, “Why are you telling Bazin to meet us?”
Dessaline raised his eyebrows, “You know this?”
She pointed at the driver, “From her.”
The driver said, “I didn’t say anything.”
Ariel said, “I did not need for you to speak.”
Dessaline said, “Very good, Ariel Baimby. And yes, Ringo will meet us.”
“Where Pansy is being held. And what of Denson? He is with you?”
“He works for me.”
“For you, and the Miami detectives, too? How interesting.”
Dessaline said, “Lying will not help you.”
“Detectives Jesse Coda and Detective Jason Hale. They are with Miami Homicide.”
The driver said, “If Denson is working for the police, we are in trouble.”
Dessaline said, “We have Denson with us. There is no trouble. Drive to the marina.”
The woman accelerated into traffic, tight-lipped and angry. She worked her way east, staying off the main roads, and arrived at the Miami Marina thirty-five minutes later. Denson and another man met the van, and Denson opened the side door.
Marc said, “Get out.”
Ariel stepped down onto the pavement as the female exited the driver’s door and circled the front to stand near the others. Denson nodded at her, “Rosalie.”
Marc exited behind Ariel and said, “Where is the Bertram?”
Denson pointed, “There. Bazin is on board.”
Ariel clenched her fists and stepped close to Denson, “Where is Pansy?”
Denson said, “On the ship.”
Marc said, “Stop talking. Get her on board.”
Ariel stepped by Denson and started toward the Bertram just as seven young men and women stepped ahead of her. Two of them stopped, turned, and stared at Ariel. A second later, the other five did the same thing.
