Outlaws

by Tim Green

  As quickly as she had become confused about her husband, Jenny went into emotional reverse. Cody was damaged goods. It was nice that he might get the rest of this season under his belt. It would make it easier for him when she finally left him. She didn't know why she had a doubt at all, but that was how Jenny had gone through her life, always worrying that she was missing out on something good. She would get excited about a new lover, or a ncv house, or a new city, but ultimately, wherever she wasn't is where she wc;ul<.! want to be.

  Alice Vreland was an assistant medical examiner for the Travis County Coroner's Office. She was damn good at what she did. Madison knew this firsthand. When Alice first arrived on the local scene, fresh from UCLA medical school, Madison had taken a couple of runs at her in some criminal cases she was trying at the time. That was five years ago. Since her first three cases, Madison knew not to bother questioning the credibility of the coroner's office if Alice had been the one to do the autopsy. She was too good to mess with, and the times Madison had attempted to cross-examine her on the stand, it had taken everything she had to recover from the damage, so outstanding was Alice's presence in front of a jury.

  Instead Madison had become friends with the chunky redhead. Occasionally they would have dinner together, more often it was lunch when Alice was at the courthouse giving testimony for the D. A.'s office in one grisly murder or another. It always amazed Madison how Alice could give a detailed account of a gunshot wound that removed half a person's skull and then go out minutes later and enjoy a rare hamburger with French fries doused in ketchup. It was at one such lunch that Madison asked for Alice's help with Yusef Williams's case.

  Alice looked skyward when she heard the name. Her concentration was so intense that Madison couldn't help also looking up, as if there were some answer in the ceiling above.

  "Okay," Alice finally said, breaking Her trance. "I know the case you're talking about now. There were two of them, right? Both execution-style gunshot wounds to the head. Real mess from what 1 hear. A regular blood pudding."

  That was how Alice liked to refer to the more grisly killings that came through the coroner's office.

  "Let's see," Alice said, looking above quickly for one more tidbit of information, "the Ogre did those jobs. Late night stiffs. He probably messed something up, so anything wouldn't suiprise me there."

  Alice didn't have to pull any punches when it came to assessing the other people in her office. These were things Madison already knew. The Ogre was an assistant in the office by the name of Ryan Lutz. Lutz was six feet tall and weighed in at about three-twenty, a veritable bear. Hair grew prodigiously from his back, ears, nose, and hands. He was a drunk who clung to his job like a handful of other county workers who made everyone else's job in their office twice as hard.

  "Well," Madison said, taking a delicate sip of her iced tea, "I want you to find out if there was a bullet wound in the ear of the victim named Ramon Gustava. 1 suspect that there may have been another gun involved. And evidence of another gun would help substantiate the kid's story about the man in black."

  Alice tilted her head and looked at Madison for the punch line. "And how are you proposing 1 find out?" Alice said. "With my crystal ball or my tarot cards? Honey, that boy's six feet under."

  "What about Lutz?" Madison said. "Can't you just ask him?"

  "Madison, dear, are you feeling well?" Alice said with a mock look of concern on her face. "Lutz can't remember what he had for breakfast, let alone the status of a stiff he tore apart at three a. M. several months ago."

  "What about the body, then?" Madison asked.

  "Honey," Alice said incredulously, "when was the last time you heard of a body being exhumed in Travis County?"

  Madison couldn't think of any.

  "Exactly," Alice said, taking one big bite to finish off her bleeding burger.

  It was Madison's turn to think. She would have to look into the case law. She'd get one of her associates started on it this afternoon. Walter would be the one to give her the ruling, and she had a feeling that if she could give him almost any case law at all to hang his robe on, he would order the exhumation.

  "By the way," Alice said, her cherubic cheeks now flushed from the meal, "now you've got to tell me the story behind all this nonsense."

  That was no problem to Madison. She thought it was good to rehash a story to someone else, especially someone as smart as Alice. Oftentimes someone else saw things that she didn't. Other times, she realized things by just saying them out loud.

  "So why don't you do this?" Alice offered after she'd heard it all. "It sounds like if the kid is telling the truth, there's a bullet somewhere in the wall of that garage behind where Ramon was sitting. Even the Ogre would have found the slug if it was lodged in the kid's head. It would have showed up on the X-rays. Why don't we take a gander at the crime scene? If we find lead, then I bet you'll have a hell of a lot better chance getting a judge to order an exhumation than if you just go in there and tell him the alleged murderer says it's possible the body has another wound and that the Ogre just happened to miss it because he's an incompetent clod."

  "Can you do something like that?" Madison asked. "I mean, find a bullet in a wall?"

  "Honey," Alice replied, "if I can take a needle-thin bullet fragment out of a brain pudding, I can sure as hell pull a slug out of a wall. I know how to preserve a chain of evidence as good as any cop. You said the building was abandoned, so with any luck at all the chalk marks will still be there, and based on where old Rain-man Gustava was sitting, we can figure out pretty much where to look."

  "That sounds great, Alice," Madison said. She was getting excited. If Walter was right, and the boy was innocent, it would be a wonderful achievement to exonerate him. It was the real reason she had become a defense lawyer. The fact was that people were often wrongly accused of crimes and punished based on their lack of fortune rather than their degree of guilt.

  "When can we do it?" Madison asked.

  Alice looked at her watch. 'Damn, not now," she said. "Call me next week, honey. We'll get to it, but right now is bad. Don't look so sad. You're not going to trial on this soon are you?"

  "No, and I can get a delay anyway," Madison said. "I'm just anxious to find out."

  "Well," Alice said, rising from her seat with a wink, "hold on to your pants until the end of the dance. Contrary to popular belief, us county workers don't have a lot of free time. I'll call you, and we'll do it soon."

  Madison smiled and waved good-bye as her friend chugged through the restaurant and out the front door into the hot summer afternoon.

  Cody didn't know if it was him or what, but in the three days he'd been back from San Angelo, Jenny had been acting strange. Or he thought she was. He couldn't put his finger on it though. He had been so uptight and worried about camp before he'd left that he hadn't noticed much more about his wife than that she was unusually accommodating. He hadn't bothered to wonder about it back then. He'd just enjoyed it. Now her extra-good behavior was fueling those same old feelings of mistrust and jealousy that he seemed to have had ever since he'd known her.

  It wasn't what she was saying or doing that was strange in any way, it was how she was saying and doing it. He was beginning to notice that although she was always willing to have sex with him, her mind seemed to be elsewhere. Also, he would come home from practice and find her sitting at the kitchen table or by the pool simply staring into space. Cody would watch her like this for several minutes before making himself known, then he'd ask if she felt all right. At first Cody hoped that Jenny was going to tell him she was pregnant, but it soon became obvious that that was not the case. Cody brought children up in a conversation they had at breakfast one morning, and Jenny's face visibly dropped. "Cody," she'd said, lying without even a blink, "I'm trying, and I've been trying hard, to make things between us good. Please, don't talk to me about that now. Wait until after this season. We'll see where we are. Then we can talk about that."

  Cody thought it w
as a strange way to answer, but he'd accepted it. From time to time, in the past, Jenny had had her distant and mysterious phases. They weren't uncommon when he brought up subjects that she wasn't particularly fond of, and he simply took this for one of those times.

  The next week, on Wednesday, four days before the opening regular season game for the Outlaws, Cody had a message in his locker after practice to call Marty Cahn. Cody hated messages that didn't explain what they were about. They made him nervous. He bothered only to strip off his sweat-soaked jersey and shoulder pads before going to the bank of players' phones just outside the locker room. Sweat continued to run down his back as he waited for the receptionist at the firm to pick up.

  "Marty Cahn, please," he said. Cody absently scratched a bleeding scab on his shin with his other foot. A steaming clump of grass fell out of the shoe. Cody knew the equipment man would curse him if he caught him out here with his grass shoes on.

  "Hi, Sabrina," Cody said to Marty's secretary, "it's me."

  "Oh, Cody, hang on," Sabrina said, almost losing her breath, "he's in a meeting, but I know he wants to talk with you right away."

  More desperate mystery. Cody's pulse raced. His stomach tightened. He hated this.

  "Cody?"

  "Marty, it's me, I can't stand when you leave a message to call immediately without telling me what the hell is going on. What's up?"

  "I just didn't want to spread this all around. Now don't get excited, bui we've got some problems with the IRS."

  Confirmed. Cody knew something was bad. He knew it. "What problem;.?'' Cody nearly shrieked.

  "Cody, I have to say that I think we can work something out, but it's not great news.... Have you been getting yearly checks for five thousand dollars from America's Trading Cards?"

  "Five? Yeah," Cody said, sickening at the sound of his own words. "I have. I really didn't think about it. I guess I have."

  "Well, I hate to put it to you like this," Marty said, "but I don't want you to think that I've been remiss in handling your affairs. Now, you know that every year before 1 send in your taxes that 1 ask you to go down the line and tell me about any additional income you've had outside erf the Outlaws. In fact, Cody, I send you a letter every year. It's in your file. Most of those outside things I've lined up for you myself, so I didn't really give it much second thought. I just want you to know that I haven't screwed you up on this. You really should have told me about this card deal."

  "You know, Marty," Cody said, "I remember I signed a career deal with them my rookie year, and I just didn't give it much thought. I think I got a check from them every year, but I didn't really think about it. You know, when Jenny and I get a check, it's usually spent three different ways before it even hits the bank. So, I'll have to pay some back taxes, huh?"

  Marty was quiet for a brief moment. It was a long moment to Cody Grey and a moment in which he realized real trouble was brewing.

  "I hope we can resolve it that way," Marty said. "That's why I wanted to speak to you right away. I spoke to the agent who's doing the field audit. He wants to see us in person. He was being a real hard-ass on the phone, but the fact that he wanted to see us, you, in person makes me think that maybe we can stroke this guy a little and he'll work with us."

  "Why do you sound so concerned, Marty?" Cody said. "If we have to pay, we have to pay. 1 mean, if 1 make my incentives, like I will if I can stay healthy, I'll have some extra money to pay it. You make it sound so bad."

  "Cody," Marty said, "penalties, back taxes, and interest are one thing, but I have to tell you that this guy is talking about jail time."

  Cody thought he might vomit. He was already exhausted and battered from a hard day out on the hot practice field. This news took him close to the edge.

  "Not really," Cody said, "the guy didn't really mean that. They can't do that, can they?"

  "I don't know," Marty said. "Well, yes. They can. Unfortunately, there's a pattern here. It's not the amount. It's the repeated frau--the repeated error. They did it to Daryl Strawberry already. Let's hope this guy isn't that determined. But we'll know more tomorrow. He wants to see us tomorrow morning in his office at ten o'clock."

  "I've got meetings," Cody said.

  "I know. 1 told him that," Marty replied. "He didn't seem all that interested."

  Cody thought to himself. He could get the time. He'd have to tell the coach ... but the game plan went in today. As long as he could make it back for practice .. . He'd have to take some stuff home with him tonight, then they'd let him off. Hell, they didn't have much choice. Cody thanked Cod the team now needed him. It would make it much easier for the coach to bear. Football coaches didn't like players to miss meetings or practice even for their own funerals.

  "You don't really think they'd try to do that," Cody said, "I mean jail, do you?"

  "Look, Cody," Marty said, "I don't want to give you any false hope. I think we've got a good chance to avoid something like that. As long as they aren't going to try to make an example of you, I think we can work something out. We're not talking about a tremendous amount of money here. But it's my job to tell you all the possibilities."

  Cody was silent. He wanted more. He wanted Marty to assure him. That wasn't happening.

  "I think you should come to my office at eight," Marty said. "We can go over everything and go over to the Federal building together"

  "Okay," Cody said, "I'll be there."

  He hung up and noticed that his shoes had disgorged a three foot circle of grass and dirt all over the carpet. He couldn't have cared less.

  Jenny took the news worse than Cody would have expected.

  "It's not you alone, Cody," she said. "It's us! We file jointly. We have for eight years. I'm at risk as much as you. I can't believe this! What the hell have we been paying your goddamned agent for? He's a fucking tax lawyer!"

  Cody looked up from the table. They were sitting across from each other and he'd had his head in his hands. She seemed to be on the verge of losing control. It fit with her recent strange behavior, but if he hadn't been s. Irr something was up with her before, he was certain now.

  "Jenny," he said, as calmly as he could, "it's me they want. You're not part of this. If anything bad happens, it's me it will happen to. They don't want you. They want an NFL player. They want their own local version of Daryl Strawberry."

  "Everything they do to you, they can do to me," she snapped at him. "My name is on those returns too. I signed them."

  "Jenny," Cody said quietly, looking directly at her, "I won't let anything happen to you. If someone has to pay for this, I will. It's my fault. I'll take care of it. You're my wife, Jenny. I love you."

  Jenny couldn't even look at him. Even she was too ashamed.

  "Maybe it will be all right," she whispered.

  Chapter Fifteen

  While Cody and Marty were hashing out their strategy^ how to best handle Jeff Board and their bad predicament, Board was shaving in the tiny bathroom of his old, rundown home on 22nd Avenue, in the same university neighborhood where Joe Thurwood did the majority of his work for the young drug dealer. The mirror doubled as the door to a rusted medicine cabinet that had once been white. The glass was pocked with ugly, dark blotches around the edges, and the remnants of an old STP sticker obscured the upper right-hand comer. Board was sweating even though the shower he'd taken was cold. His gut hung over his boxer shorts, stretching the cotton tank top tucked into the waistband.

  Board cut himself and cursed. Crimson drops dripped from his chin to the sea of foam and stubble in the sink below. He wanted to look good for today. It was maybe the biggest day in his life. . He wanted to look important. Now he was going to have to sport a spot of toilet paper on his face or risk having the nick ooze during the meeting, dripping blood over everything. Either way, he looked at it as a possible opening for humiliation that he was sure a savage like Cody Grey would exploit. Cody could very well laugh right out loud during the meeting. And again behind his back after he left.


  "Shit!" he screamed, throwing the razor down on the floor. "Shit! Shit! Shit!"

  Board finally got control of himself and picked the razor back up to finish the job. He decided on the toilet paper. He'd use a very small piece. Ten small pieces later, one stuck for what he hoped would be the remainder of the morning. He looked at his watch. He had to hurry. One of his cats was mewing pathetically by the back door that led down a rickety set of stairs to the driveway.

  "Damn it, Babs," he whined as he stumbled to the door to let out the cat.

  Ten minutes later, Board was racing down Lamar Avenue toward his office. His tie had yet to be tied, but his top button was buttoned. He could get the tie on in the parking lot. He didn't want to be late. He didn't mind keeping Cody Grey waiting, but he didn't want them to see him scurrying into the office at ten after ten. He wanted them to see him busting loose from some important meeting, making time in his busy day to personally take charge of a flagrant criminal affront to the United States Government. Board looked at his watch. Damn. He wanted to have time to get Patti's conference room lined up. He should have done it yesterday. He had to have the conference room. He sure as hell wasn't going to grill Cody Grey and his lawyer in his cubicle.

  "Damn, damn," he muttered to himself.

  Every traffic light seemed to go against him. Board ended up running through the parking lot to the building so fast that he had a full sweat going by the time he reached the elevators. He knotted his tie on the way up, it wasn't straight, but it was tied. He scuttled out of the elevator and down the hall as fast as he could, trying all the while not to look like he was hurrying. He saw Cody Grey sitting with his lawyer in the row of seats along the wall by the receptionist's desk. They were busy conferring. He was going to make it past them.

  "Mr. Board?" the receptionist called.