by Anthology
Nothing.
Rubbing my palms over my tired eyes, I did one last read through. Something was nagging at me to look again. There had to be something to link Lenny to Hastings besides hear-say.
Fifty-three pages in, I saw my link and almost sobbed with happiness. Except, it wasn't Lenny's name but what I guessed was his wife's name. Victoria Nettleman. According to the file, she had been one of the accountants in the company, working there for the last thirteen years.
Bingo.
It wasn't much but it was something.
Suddenly, I made the most ridiculous decision of my entire career. Shooting out of my chair before I lost my nerve, I grabbed my car keys, wallet and jacket thinking I should maybe pay a visit to good ol' Daddy Sharky's local hangout. Craig had mentioned that Leonard was in the City, paying "friendly" visits to his mob family. A current resident of West Virginia, Mr. Shark paid regular visits to New York to keep his eye on the prize. People tend to be more afraid when the threat sporadically pops in to see how things are going. The advantage of surprise, an age old practice in that corrupt world.
Checking the address on my GPS, I headed down to Midtown rehearsing the casual questions I wanted to ask Leonard if I, indeed, got any face-to-face time with him at all. The mechanical voice assured me that I had reached my destination. Now, it was time to find a god forsaken parking space. Never an easy task in this town.
Ten minutes and three blocks later, I parallel parked in front of a diner that had surely seen better days and made sure to double check that nothing of importance was showing inside my vehicle. No need to tempt the locals into bashing a window and stealing my ride. At a brisk pace, I made my way to the pawn shop nestled between a women's clothing store and a snack bar. With a quick intake of cold air, I grew some balls and made my way inside. The ringing of the tiny bell above the door announced my entrance prompting a heavy-gutted man to walk out from what I assumed was the back office.
"What can I get you, Mister?"
"Good morning. I'm looking for Leonard. I was told he may be here." Keeping my spine straight as an arrow, I did my best to show no fear. This was the mafia, after all. Showing weakness was synonymous to asking for a new residence...six feet under.
"Who's askin'?" asked the man who clearly did not like where the conversation was going.
"My name is Lloyd Ledbetter, I'm a lawyer here in New York. I just need to ask him a couple of questions for my client." There was no way I would release Luke’s name, not even under the threat of torture. Well, it would have to be fairly severe torture. I was not a fan of gratuitous pain so I would most likely not last for long before I gave up everything I knew, including my bank account details.
With a suspicious eye, he told me to wait as he walked back into his office. As I waited, I took a look around and felt the inexplicable urge to wipe down the place with bleach. Twice. The glass counters protecting various types of weapons from knives to semi-automatics, was clouded by cracks and dust. Shelves with all types of appliances adorned the walls and the main floor was littered with hunting paraphernalia. Looking up, the head of a deer hung proudly on the side wall making my insides shudder with revulsion.
What felt like hours later, but in truth added up to only five minutes, I heard footsteps coming my way. This time, a tall bulky man confidently sauntered toward me, his eyes assessing, a sneer planted firmly on his lips. His features were sharp, his eyes lacking any compassion. Although I knew for a fact that he was Luke's father, physically the link was invisible. Peppered dark hair that had not seen a proper comb since the Reagan administration, a long nose that had a pronounced bump at the top and yellowed teeth that wept for a good toothbrush and effective minty paste. I needed a shower to wash away the nasty that seemed to be airborne like the Ebola virus.
"What do you want?"
"Good morning," always polite, I told myself, it unarms the opposition, "I just needed to ask you a few questions. My firm's research has linked your name to one of my cases and I just wanted to know if you could tell me anything about Senator Hastings?" This was why I had a PI and also why I was a lawyer and not a police officer. I probably should have thought about my line of questioning a bit more before hastily running out of the safety of my office. It occurred to me that my last day on earth would be spent in a dirty pawn shop. Karma was a bitch.
"Yeah, sure," he said openly sizing me up, "Come on back so we can talk in private." He said before turning to whom I guessed was the owner of the shop. "Vinnie, stay out here. I got business." I felt like I was stuck in a bad horror film where the hero was about to do something ridiculously stupid. Like going to the back of a dingy office with a known mafia member for a "private chat."
As soon as the door closed, I found myself surrounded by what had to be jacked-up wrestlers itching for a fight. Two bald men sneered at me while Lenny walked around the desk before taking a seat. But my attention was firmly on the third man leaning against the far wall, facing Lenny at his desk. The man was tall; he sported bleached blond hair, evident by the dark roots growing out, but his blue eyes and chiseled features were unmistakable. Minus the tiny scars and the remnants of a past years' broken nose, there was no doubt that the man was Luke's clone.
Duke.
They were twins, alright, but somehow the evil that lived inside the man in front of me made all the difference in the world. Where Luke was cocky but gentle, this man was vicious and unsettling. The whole nature-slash-nurture debate made complete sense to me at that very precise moment.
"So, what can I do for you?"
With my peripheral vision keeping tabs on the hulks and looking away from Duke to avoid suspicions, I asked Lenny if he knew anything about Senator Hastings.
"I sure do," he answered giving a slight nod to one of the beasts who in turn pushed a meaty hand on my shoulder forcing me to sit on a steel chair facing Lenny. If I didn't have more important problems, I would be crying over the number of germs taking up residence on my clothes.
"Senator Hastings is missing, correct?"
"Yes. Exactly. From what we gather, he was affiliated with Bennett Distributions. Do you know anything about that?" I knew he did but didn't want to tip him off too soon.
I didn't see the right hook coming from my left. I did, however, feel the pain it delivered. White hot searing heat exploded on my right cheekbone before a hand grabbed my hair and held me in place.
In front of me, Lenny was imperturbable. Calm as could be, he continued. "Mr. Ledbetter, right? Well, here's the thing. I don't like little shits from uptown coming to my side of town and asking questions they have no business asking. You get me?"
The hand grasping my hair forced me to nod. It had to be Duke since I could clearly see the other goons standing guard to my right. Curling his fingers around his ear, Lenny leaned in and asked. "What was that? I can't quite hear you."
"Yes," I gritted through my teeth.
"Good. Now, get the fuck out of my shop and go back to your worthless investigation. If my name comes up, you ignore it and burn the information. If you don't? Well, let's just say that every member of your family and friends will get close and personal with the Hudson River."
With a dismissive wave of his hand, he instructed his oaf of a son to pull me to a standing position. I was sure I would be bald if he continued his manhandling. However much I despised the situation in which I found myself, I needed more time to get some kind proof as to what was going on. Without thinking it through, I reached up and grabbed hold of Duke's straggly hair and yanked like a petulant toddler, knowing damn well I would pay for that little stunt when I heard the cry of pain coming from Duke. With strands of hair hanging from my fingertips, I tensed my body and waited for retaliation. I just prayed I wouldn't die before clearing Luke's name.
Lightning quick, I felt the punch to my gut followed by a second fist to my face. Blood sprayed across Duke's face as my nose cracked for the second time in my life. I really needed to stop with the unwinnable fights. Duke pi
cked up my leather folder case, and quickly rifled through the papers, before tossing it over where it landed by my feet. I picked it up with my free hand, and was careful to hold it by the edge as I quickly departed the back room.
With a throbbing face and an aching stomach, I tried to discreetly walk back to my car.
Once inside my vehicle, I carefully pulled my cream-colored handkerchief from my pocket and deposited Duke’s bleached locks, some of it still twisted around my shaking fingers, onto the cloth and carefully folded it up. I pulled a box of tissues from the glove box, and grabbed several to press deftly against my nose. I assessed the damage. I wasn't feeling like death was at my door so I figured it wasn't exactly broken but it did hurt like a fucking bitch for sure. Although that meeting had gone all kinds of fucked up, two things were crystal clear. First, Lenny's reaction was too visceral to be inconsequential. Second, I had Duke's DNA carefully wrapped in my handkerchief, and hopefully, a viable fingerprint from my leather case he’d manhandled.
I was on the right trail and, despite the pain, I felt a certain satisfaction to that newfound knowledge.
Chapter 22
“GUNNER,” THE DEPUTY barked, waking me from a cat nap, “your mouthpiece is here to see you.”
Lloyd was here? He damn well better be getting me out of this shithole. Here it was Monday afternoon and I was still among the lice-ridden fellow occupants of this precinct’s bed and breakfast.
I stood and ran my fingers through my tousled hair. There was no hope for it until I was able to grab a proper shower and shampoo. I walked the three paces over to the barred door, and as the deputy unlocked it, I held out my hands so that he could place the cuffs on my wrists, which was required whenever I was being transported from my cell to anywhere else.
“You look gorgeous, Gunner, much better than your visitor that’s for sure.”
“Fuck you, Wayne,” I said, but I tossed in a wink for his displeasure.
What the hell did he mean by that? I couldn’t imagine Lloyd looking anything but well-groomed and impeccably garbed. The thought of seeing him sparked that feeling inside I got whenever we were in close proximity, and I regretted that he had to see me like this. I only hoped the stench of the jail didn’t invade his olfactory glands. Lloyd had a propensity for sterile and I knew I wasn’t even up to his minimum standards having spent the last two nights in this hellhole.
I was led down the hallway, and the usual cat calls, barking, and taunts sounded as we passed the other cells. That was a source of entertainment for the rest of the detainees whenever a prisoner was escorted to or from one of the cells. Pretty pathetic but hell, everyone was hard-up for entertainment.
As we headed down the stairs, I saw Lloyd standing in the hallway, talking to another suit. Wayne opened the door to the small conference room, and kicked the chair back so that I could take a seat. I raised my arms and he unlocked my handcuffs, removing them.
He stood by the door until several minutes later, Lloyd walked through them and took a seat across from me. “Luke,” he acknowledged, slapping my file on the table, “we’ve got some new information that I think is going to work in your favor.”
“What the hell happened to you?” I asked, as I scoped my dude out. His nose was swollen and sported a white nasal splint. There was bruising under both of his eyes. He had a broken nose, that much was evident. There was more bruising along his left jaw line. Someone had fucked him up and I immediately felt the adrenaline pump through my veins. Both of my hands fisted on the table where they were placed. I flexed them several times, opening and then closing into hard fists. Lloyd didn’t miss it.
“Ran into a door,” he deadpanned. “Now listen to what I’ve found out.”
“Fuck if I will!” I bellowed. “Tell me who did this to you, Lloyd. Tell me now.”
Wayne immediately came to stand next to my chair. “Keep it down, Gunner, or you’re going back to your cell.”
I ignored him, not taking my eyes off of Lloyd.
“Did you copy that?” Wayne pressed.
“Yeah. Yeah. I got it,” I snapped.
My legs were jumpy and I continued to assess the damage done to Lloyd. “What happened?” I asked again, “and I don’t want to hear any bullshit from you this time.”
Lloyd released a long sigh. “It looks worse than it is,” he lied, coaxing up a smile that most likely hurt. “But I will tell you this, it was worth it. I’ve got some evidence that will certainly clear you, but you need to trust me on that and stop dwelling on something that can’t be changed at this point, so let’s look ahead, shall we?”
I nodded, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to drop the subject permanently. Lloyd would tell me who fucked him up, and I would be taking care of the person who touched him. Nobody – I repeat nobody manhandles what is mine and gets away with it. Gunner’s law.
“So, I was talking to the federal prosecutor before I came here today. I’ve turned over some recently acquired DNA evidence, which has been properly logged onto the record, and for which I was given a receipt. I signed a sworn affidavit as to the collection and source of the evidence I turned over, and requested an expedited analysis. I want you to sit tight, because I was talking to a forensic expert in the hallway just before coming in here. I’ve retained his services on your behalf, and he will be in shortly to obtain some follicle samples from you for comparative testing.”
“Whoa, hold up there, Lloyd. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
Lloyd nodded. “I met your brother earlier today. We had a run-in of sorts, but I walked out of there with a fistful of his bleached blond hair, root follicles and all. I’ve also got a fingerprint of his from my leather case he hurled at me. I’m hopeful the forensic testing results will be available as soon as tomorrow afternoon when our hearing for the Writ of Habeas Corpus I filed is scheduled. According to law, the court must review this exculpatory evidence and, in doing so, determine whether you can lawfully be detained for the alleged crime without bail."
That definitely got a smile out of me for two reasons, the first being I was finally seeing some light at the end of this fucked up tunnel, and secondly, whenever Lloyd talked legalese, my dick immediately hardened. “I love it when you talk dirty to me, Counselor,” I said, my voice husky with lust. “I’m not only optimistic, I’m rock hard, Lloyd.”
I watched in amusement as my very capable attorney, and the man I wanted to fuck more than I wanted to breathe at the moment, shifted in his seat. His right hand lowered to his lap, and I knew he was rearranging his junk.
Wayne cleared his throat behind us. Fucking homophobe, I was sure.
“So, what time is the hearing tomorrow?” I asked.
“Three o’clock. I will be at the courthouse with my forensic expert, Professor Dobbins from Columbia University. His credentials are quite impressive. I have every reason to hold the same optimism as you, Luke.”
“Nice,” I said with a smile, “What about the other?”
“Other?” Lloyd asked, jotting down a few notes on my file.
“Yeah. I told you I was optimistic and rock hard. You only said you were optimistic.”
Lloyd actually became flustered and my eyes didn’t leave his face. He was going to answer me before he left this room because I needed something to take back to that small, dank cell--I needed something from him to get me through what I hoped would be my last night here. My last night alone.
“You know that I’m hard for you,” he said in a hoarse whisper, “and I’m sure you know just how difficult it is for me at this moment not to jump over this table and touch you, feel you and taste you, Luke. Are you happy?”
“It’s something,” I replied with a shrug. “It’s something that I’ll take back with me and think about until we can both make that happen, how’s that?”
“I’ll do the same, I promise.”
“Look, you two,” Wayne interrupted, “I’m not here to be a fucking voyeur to your perverted fantasies. Has your lawyer/c
lient business concluded?”
I gave Lloyd a lazy smile and mouthed the word: homophobe.
“Undoubtedly,” Lloyd replied with a soft chuckle. “I will see you tomorrow, Luke. We will see this resolved, I promise.”
I attempted to reach over to touch him but Wayne was quickly hovering over us. “No touching, Gunner, you know the drill.”
Lloyd gathered his file and gave me a sexy wink. “Tomorrow,” he confirmed.
After he’d gone, Wayne put the cuffs back on and escorted me back upstairs to my cell. Once inside, he slammed the barred door shut with a loud clang that resounded down the corridor. “I guess it’s choke your chicken time, Gunner. Have fun,” he said with a loud guffaw.
“Yeah, you wish it was your tight ass I’m picturing when I blow my load, right Wayne?” I called after him laughing my ass off.
Dream on, asshole.
Chapter 23
THE PRESIDING JUDGE found in favor of the Writ, and ordered Luke released on bond to my care and custody, and the charges were dropped, without prejudice, pending a formal Federal Grand Jury investigation. Federal indictments were immediately issued for Duke, Victoria, and Leonard Nettleman. Failure for them to appear before the Grand Jury would result in arrest warrants. The media was having a field day with the recent discoveries and with elections coming up, no one could afford bad press in such a high profile case.
The forensic evidence and DNA lab results presented clear-cut reasonable doubt in the mind of the judge, and even the Federal Prosecutor was wiping the egg off of his face after I presented my expert testimony to interpret the results, and offer stats that blew everyone away. Luke was present in the judge’s chambers where the prosecution team observed the irrefutable evidence that proved more than one person matched the DNA, and the fingerprints, while not identical, were close enough to warrant further testing of both twins. Luke was exonerated within the hour. Relief doesn't even begin to explain the feeling swimming through my bloodstream.
