by Nat Williams
CHAPTER 60
Janet and Obie were in the living room watching the local five o’clock news.
“And now, from the WLLE studios in Coleton, your News at Five from News Five,” the voice on the canned intro said to a rousing musical accompaniment. “Paula Gerrish and Scott Macias with the news, meteorologist Anthony Pryor with your weather forecast and Elliott Christian on sports.”
“I’m Paula Gerrish,” the attractive blonde said. “Gilbert County farmer David Purcell, who was charged with murdering a doctor and his wife in Cherokee Camp, was allegedly involved in a Medicaid fraud case along with one of the victims, according to police. The Van Okins were Purcell’s in-laws. Though no motive has been presented, authorities hinted that the crime may be connected in some way to the alleged conspiracy to defraud the state of Illinois and the federal government.”
A still of Doug Munro appeared in the background, off Gerrish’s left side.
“Paula, sources have told me that FBI agent Douglas Munro has been working with the Gilbert County Sheriff’s Department and the state’s attorney, sharing information and determining how to proceed with the cases. You’ll recall that Munro was at the press conference where Purcell’s arrest was announced.”
Field reporter Grant Uphoff appeared on camera, with the Van Okin home in the background. Yellow police tape still surrounded the grounds.
“Munro, a special agent with the FBI, told me that he had been conducting an investigation into an alleged Medicaid fraud scheme in Cherokee Camp for some time. He said he has uncovered evidence that Purcell and Dr. Van Okin were filing Medicaid claims for injuries and illnesses that didn’t exist. Munro said he believes migrant workers at the Purcell orchard were unwilling pawns in the alleged plot, either being treated for conditions they didn’t have, or even not making visits to the doctor. He said others may be involved and the investigation continues.”
The video feed switched back to the studio.
“Did Munro say how far-reaching the alleged scam is?” Gerrish said.
“Munro didn’t go into details, because the investigation is still active,” Uphoff said. “So far, no arrests have been made, though he anticipates charges may be filed in the fraud case once the investigation concludes.”
“It’s not common that the FBI discusses anything about an ongoing investigation, is it?” Gerrish said.
“I’m certainly not an expert on the Bureau, but that is unusual.”
“Thank you, Grant. We will continue to follow this story and bring updates when we have more. In other news …”
Obie put his arm around Janet. He knew when to say something and when to keep quiet. This was one of those keeping quiet moments.
“I’m going to see Tonya Rudnick,” she said abruptly, grabbing her purse and car keys.
“What about?” Obie said.
“I’ll be back soon.”
The next morning Rudnick set her briefcase down on the floor beside the table in the visiting room at the jail. David sat across from her.
“We have a problem,” she said.
“Where’s Janet?”
“That’s the problem. She got in touch with me before I had a chance to get out to the farm.”
Rudnick put her hands up, body language that meant there’s some bad news coming.
“David, she said she didn’t find anything.”
“What are you talking about?”
“She said the cooler wasn’t where you said, hidden in a cornfield.”
“A sweetcorn plot. Yeah, it’s there.”
“She said it’s not there.”
Purcell’s face deflated like a balloon that had lost its helium. Actually, it was more like the German zeppelin Hindenberg crashing and burning in New Jersey in 1937. Great anticipation followed by sudden disaster.
“I don’t understand. It has to be there.”
“I’m sorry, David. I don’t know what more I can do.”
“You can make her give you that evidence. That may be the only thing that can save me. No offense.”
“None taken. I’ll do everything in my power to defend you. But I can’t do it with a box full of evidence that doesn’t exist. And I can’t make Janet do anything.”
David pursed his lips. He was clearly nervous.
“Tell her you have to see for yourself. She’ll have to show you, right? I mean, legally and everything? Since you’re my lawyer?”
She deflected the direct question. Rudnick was aware that there was no time to waste in revising a defense strategy.
“I’ll do everything I can, David.”
CHAPTER 61
“She’s sabotaging me, don’t you see?” David Purcell told his comely public defender. “Look, I don’t claim to be Mr. Perfect. I’ve made some mistakes. Maybe I haven’t been the greatest husband. But she’s so pissed off, she’s not thinking straight.”
“You don’t think she wants to help you get out of here?”
“She’s emotional, that’s all. Her parents are dead. I’m stuck in the middle in it, though I didn’t kill them. We have to get that cooler, that evidence. You have to get her here so I can explain everything. So I can make it up to her.”
“I can visit her and try to explain. But I can’t make her come here.”
“They don’t have visiting hours every day, either,” David said. “They pick the days. That’s something you might want to check into. How can they legally keep a man’s wife from visiting him? I think they’re depriving me of my due process or whatever.”
“I’ll look into that,” Rudnick said, quickly getting back to the matter at hand. “But she doesn’t seem to be very supportive.”
“Like I said, we’re having some problems. But every couple has problems, right?”
He looked at the rock on her ring finger.
“Even you, maybe, with your husband.”
Rudnick obviously wasn’t succumbing to his charms. She ignored the statement.
“In other words, you don’t think she would make a good character witness,” she said.
Purcell clenched his fists, out of view of his attorney.
“I don’t know. But I don’t think she wants me to fry for something I didn’t do. Do you?”
“I don’t really know her, David.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you need to get to know her. We have to have that evidence. That’s all I have. As soon as you get that I’ll be outta here.”
“It’s not quite that easy,” Rudnick said. “But I’ll head out there right away and see what’s going on. If it’s like you said, that gives us a weapon. It doesn’t give us some magical power, where I can wave a wand and get you out of here. But I get the feeling that you’re pretty smart. You know all that.”
Images were flitting around in Purcell’s mind, like confetti in a ticker-tape parade.
“Yeah, I know all that. And I know that box is my ticket out of here. I’m telling you: I didn’t murder those people. I didn’t do it. It happened exactly like I said. I may not be some saint, but I’m not a killer.”
Rudnick picked up her briefcase.
“I’m not a killer,” Purcell repeated, more restrained. His voice was weak.
She looked into his eyes more intently than ever. Which meant the two days he had known her.
“We’re on the same page. I don’t think you’re a killer,” she said. She pressed the buzzer, alerting the guard that the visit was over.
CHAPTER 62
Frank Bachelor looked on in horror as Doug Munro shoveled forkfuls of chili mac into his mouth. They were having lunch at Roy’s Diner.
“How come you don’t weigh like, two-seventy?”
Munro wiped his mouth with a handful of paper napkins.
“Exercise.”
“You exercise?”
“Every day. If you keep your muscles toned, your blood flowing and your joints bending, you can defeat the army of calories.”
“You like exercising?”
“Hate it. But I l
ike eating. Food is the reward. Exercise is the payment. A few months of mess-hall chow made me appreciate comfort food a lot more.”
Bachelor perked up.
“You’re a veteran? You never told me that. What branch?”
“Marines.”
“You’re kidding! A fellow Jarhead.”
Bachelor pulled up his sleeve, displaying a Semper Fi tattoo on his shoulder. Munro put his fork down. From what Bachelor had seen, it takes a lot for the FBI agent to put down an eating utensil before he was finished with his meal.
“No shit. Where?”
“Thirteen weeks of hell at Parris Island and thirteen months of hell at Kandahar.”
“Which was toughest?” Munro said.
“Not sure. Close call.”
“I thought so.”
“Where did you serve?” Bachelor said.
“Never made it overseas. SOI East at Camp Geiger. CID school at Fort Leonard Wood. Spent the rest of my stint at Quantico.”
“An officer?”
“Warrant officer.”
“An MP. Interesting post.”
“Not very. I worked mainly as a liaison with civilian law enforcement. Dressed funny and carried a Sig Sauer P228. They carry Glocks today, I hear. Anyway, responded mostly to bullshit stuff. Drugs, prostitution, petty theft. About the only incoming I experienced was some D&D asshole puking on my shoes.”
He took a bite of his meal.
“Sounds like you ran into a bit more mischief.”
Bachelor gently stabbed at his bowl, piercing a few leaves of lettuce, a cucumber slice and a cherry tomato with the tines of his fork. He paused as he held the fork above the bowl.
“You know how it is. Numbing weeks of boredom followed by several minutes of terror.”
“No, can’t say I do. Know how it is, I mean,” Munro said. “I spent most of my time chasing dickheads who couldn’t carry your backpack. At least you made it back in one piece.”
“Yeah. I got to know a couple of guys who didn’t. I couldn’t carry their backpacks. We did a lot of fire watch. Spent some time snoopin’ and poopin’.”
“Recon?”
“Mainly long-range. We spotted. The cannon cockers swatted.”
Munro picked up a giant plastic tumbler filled with iced tea.
“Here’s to the Corps.”
They clinked glasses.
“How do you think this thing is going?” Munro said.
“Hard to say. I knew from the beginning – Hilliard knew from the beginning – that this was no slam dunk. But I still feel pretty strongly that we have the right guy.”
“It’s a pretty good case,” Munro agreed. “I would think a tough sell by the state’s attorney, though. No eyewitnesses to the crime, no murder weapon.”
“Well, my part is done,” Bachelor said. “That’s all we can hope for … to do our best and let the chips fall where they may.”
“Hilliard’s neck’s on the block on this one, isn’t it? Yours too. You’re both up for re-election, right?”
Bachelor took a bite of his tuna on rye.
“Next year. I’m not in a bad place. His neck’s been around a long time. But this came at a bad time.”
“Is there ever a good time for a case like this?”
“No. But he’s near the finish line. He’s hoping to land one more term then ride off into the sunset.”
“Even if a bad outcome screws up those plans I’m sure he’ll land on two feet.”
“True. But he’d rather land on ‘em gently, not like a parachute drop onto an active volcano.”
“Well, like Yogi Berra said, ‘When you come to a fork in the road, take it,’” Bachelor said.
“That’s another thing about me that might surprise you,” Munro said. “I’m from Chicago, but I’m not a Cubs fan.”
“South Siders?”
“Nope. Yankees.”
“You don’t say. How did that come about?”
“My dad grew up in New Jersey. I heard about the Yankees all my life. He saw some of the greats when he was a kid. Mantle. Maris. DiMaggio. Martin. Dad always said he was proud of me making it in the FBI and all, but I get the feeling he would have been a lot prouder if I’d gotten drafted by the Yankees. Anyway, you a Cubs fan?”
“No way,” Bachelor said. “Cardinals. Most of us in this area are. We’re more familiar with St. Louis than Chicago. It’s a lot closer. By the way, did you know Yogi Berra was from St. Louis?”
“Really? I didn’t.”
“Sure thing. Grew up in the Hill, an Italian neighborhood. One of his best buddies was Joe Garagiola.”
Munro was animated.
“Garagiola too. Wow.”
“Small world.”
Bachelor took a drink of his water.
“But I always appreciated the Yankees. Can you hate and admire a team at the same time? My favorite Yogi-ism is the one about the garden party. Ever hear that one?”
“I don’t think so,” Munro said. “Enlighten me.”
“Yogi was at this garden party, dressed in some kind of a pastel jacket or something, and maybe a straw hat. You know, like a boater. A lady at the party said, ‘You look cool tonight, Yogi.’ Yogi replied, ‘Thanks. You don’t look so hot yourself.’”
Munro laughed out loud.
“That is good! I’ll have to remember that one.”
He spotted the waitress carrying an order to another table.
“Ooh! Fried green tomatoes! Gotta try those next time.”
“You sure don’t act like some Chicago bureau guy.”
“Yeah? Because I like fried green tomatoes?”
“No. Because you bend the rules a little. You love justice more than petty-ante regulations foisted upon the Bureau like a stern parent. Speaking of cases, how does yours look?”
“I have enough evidence to charge Dr. Elmer Van Okin. Doesn’t do us much good, of course. But I believe I’m pretty close on having enough goods on Purcell to nail him too. He’s a lot better suspect than Dr. Van Okin. Mainly because he’s still breathing.”
Bachelor picked up his glass of ice water and swirled it.
“I’m no lawyer, but I’m sure it’s much easier to convict a warm body than a cold one.”
CHAPTER 63
David Purcell watched as Tonya Rudnick walked into the visiting room at the Gilbert County Jail, took a seat and set her briefcase down. She didn’t look like a lawyer who had just obtained evidence that would get her client off a murder charge.
“I have some bad news, David.”
“I don’t want to hear any bad news,” he said.
“Then I have nothing to say.”
“What’s going on?”
“Janet said the cooler wasn’t there, where you said.”
“It has to be. I know where I put it.”
“She said it wasn’t there. Even took me down to the field and showed me. It wasn’t there.”
Purcell shook his head.
“You sure you were looking in the right spot?”
Rudnick gave him that I-know-what-I’m-doing look.
“Janet said maybe you forgot exactly where you put it. You were drunk. I mean, you admitted you were drunk.”
“I wasn’t that drunk. You think I’d fuck up something like that? Something that means life or death?”
“Let’s back up a little. No need to get overly dramatic.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not looking at living in a cage the rest of your life.”
He paused, leaned forward and looked directly into Rudnick’s eyes.
“Do you even believe me?”
“Of course I do, David.”
“Why? Because you have to?”
“I don’t think you’re a murderer. But … well, I need something more. We’ll have to develop a strategy that doesn’t involve the evidence you … had.”
Purcell’s face suddenly took on a look of desperation with a shade of anger.
“She’s trying to sabotage me. You have
to talk to her. You have to tell her how important this is. By the way, why hasn’t she visited me since the first couple of days?”
Rudnick picked up her briefcase and opened it up. She shuffled through some papers.
David was getting impatient.
“We need to go with this. That’s all I have,” he said.
“You don’t understand, David.”
“Don’t understand what?”
“With you not there, she’s been overwhelmed. Peach harvest, apples coming, the disease ... what’s it called?”
“Fire blight.”
“Yeah, fire blight. She said she’s having to put in so many hours. You know, to keep things afloat so she can help you. She’s trying to get up enough money to get you bail.”
“She is?”
“Yes. She’s not against you. Yeah, she’s pretty pissed off at you. You can understand that.”
Purcell hung his head.
“Yeah.”
Rudnick suddenly sat straight up in her chair.
“I didn’t want to bring this up again. But we need to discuss a plea.”
“I told you, I didn’t do this.”
“Are you willing to bet your life that a jury will agree with you?”
“Isn’t that what you’re here for?”
“Of course. And I’ll do everything in my power to make that happen. But if we don’t come up with anything else, that may not be possible.”
“Wow. I’m starting to feel warm all over.”
“Would you rather I coddle you or tell you like it is?”
Purcell turned his head and made a low, rumbling noise.
“I’ll take that as a maybe,” she said. “So here’s the hard truth. You want me to tell the jury that you have evidence that proves you are innocent of this crime. That you told your wife – who I may have to treat as a hostile witness - where this evidence is. And she didn’t find it. How well do you think a jury will react to that courtroom exchange? Hilliard’s biggest problem would be trying not to laugh.”
Purcell just shook his head. Her expression softened.
“She said she just doesn’t have time for forgiveness right now,” Rudnick said. “It’ll come later. Right now Janet has to focus on the task at hand. She’s trying to help.”
