“My hunch is that Benny was the guy at the bar that night who tried to hit on Angie. Actually, he wasn’t trying to hit on her at all-he was stealing her credit card.”
“Very good, Jack, you’re starting to think like a thief.”
“Don’t give me too much credit. I’m going to get lost here very shortly. Okay, Angie was at the bar that night with this Lois Barton woman, the one she was having an affair with.”
“Yeah, I remember. That was the best part of the whole story.”
Jack ignored Henry’s feeble attempt at humor. “Lois then followed Benny out of the bar.”
“Yeah. So?”
“So, I think Lois was part of this robbery and murder of Carl Robertson.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Lois was definitely setting Angie up-pumping her for information about Carl. If you recall, Angie admitted to Nick Walsh that she told Lois about Carl bringing her ten thousand a month.”
“That makes sense. She and Benny were probably partners.”
“Yeah, but here’s what doesn’t make sense, Henry. If Lois and Benny were in cahoots with each other, what was Benny doing stealing Angie’s credit card? And what was Lois doing leaving Angie and following Benny out of the bar, never to be seen again?”
Henry didn’t answer right away. He had to think about that one for a minute. Jack was right. Things didn’t seem to make sense. “They probably weren’t partners when Benny stole the credit card. Lois probably saw Benny lift the card and followed him out of the bar and sometime after that they decided to team up to do this robbery. That’s the way criminals meet sometimes.”
“You know, Henry, I thought about that. Here’s what bothers me, though. This is a one-man job, and it’s not a hell of a lot of money. Why cut somebody you just met into a job you had been setting up?”
“Maybe the robbery was Benny’s idea,” Henry offered. “Maybe she just told him about Carl and the money, and he came up with the rest.”
“Possibly,” Jack said pondering. “But that’s not Benny’s M.O. A robbery like this was a little out of his league. And Lois had to be thinking about the robbery all along. She wasn’t pumping Angie for information without some sort of plan.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Henry replied. “I’m just offering possibilities.”
“And why, if this was a simple robbery, did Benny shoot Carl?”
“I don’t know.”
“And where was this Lois on the night of the murder?”
“You’re batting a thousand, Jack. I don’t have a clue as to that one either.”
Jack still wasn’t through asking the questions that were bouncing around in his brain. “And why did the police all of a sudden stop looking for Lois Barton?”
“I think I can answer that one. They had Benny, and they had a pretty airtight case against him. If they kept looking for her and didn’t find her, a good lawyer like you could blow a lot of smoke with any new evidence they came up with about her. My guess is that they won’t even mention her when they present their case against Benny.”
“And dare me to bring her up.”
“Exactly.”
“Because if I bring her up, what good does it do me? Benny is still guilty, even if he had an accomplice.”
“I don’t know what to say, Jack. There’re a lot of things that don’t add up, and I don’t think we’ll ever find the answers.”
“Wait a minute-aren’t you the one who got me into this?”
“Well, yeah, but I didn’t necessarily think you were going to be successful. I just wanted Benny to have the benefit of your representation.”
“Thanks a lot, Henry, I appreciate that.”
“No problem, Jack.”
Jack spent Sunday afternoon at his office preparing a subpoena for Carl Robertson’s estate to produce his entire financial records for the five years prior to his death. It was a fishing expedition. He had no idea what he was looking for or what he might find. It was just standard procedure to gather as much evidence as possible. He also subpoenaed Carl’s telephone records for the last six months of his life. According to the police reports, Angie had mentioned a telephone call and Carl’s writing two words, Gainesville and breakthrough, on a notepad. Maybe the telephone records would tell him something. Again, it was a long shot.
As well as the subpoenas, Jack also prepared a motion asking the court to enter an order requiring Carl Robertson’s estate and the telephone company to produce the information immediately. He needed as much time as possible to have an expert go through the records, process it all, and tell him what it meant. Bruce Sentner had mentioned that Judge Langford Middleton would not continue the case until a later date under any circumstances, so Jack couldn’t ask for a delay. He could request records, however, and when the parties balked, protesting that they couldn’t produce them on such short notice, he could let the judge arrive at the obvious conclusion that a short delay was needed. There was more than one way to skin a cat.
As he was wrapping up his very long Sunday, Jack received a call from Charlie.
“Are you sitting down?” she asked.
“No. Why?”
“Guess who is on the front page of the New York Times, the Daily News, and the Post?”
“Who?”
“You, my friend. Somebody got word of the stipulation for substitution of counsel you filed on Friday and notified all the papers. It’s big news that a man with your reputation is representing Benny. The Post headline was the best: ‘The Lone Ranger Rides Again.’”
“Oh, Jesus.”
“The game is on again,” Charlie continued. “Having somebody like you on board has stoked the fire. The governor just gave an interview on television reiterating that he will accept nothing less than the death penalty in this case.”
“Well, I guess there won’t be any plea bargaining.”
“I think you’re right about that.”
“By the way, Charlie, I’ve got a couple of things I want to run by you. I’m probably going to be up next week for an emergency hearing on some documents I need.”
“You can stay here, no problem. Like I told you, you and Henry can make my home your headquarters for the entire trial.”
“Thanks, Charlie, but that wasn’t my question.”
“Go ahead, Jack.”
“I’m requesting some financial and telephone records, and there is a possibility that I might need to have a large amount of data processed in a short period of time. I don’t think the parties will be able to produce the material, and I think the judge will probably delay the trial. But the possibility exists that he won’t.”
“Just what are you getting at?”
“I may need an expert to go through this material on a moment’s notice.”
“And you want me to do it?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you just say so? I’ll put in for vacation time right away. I may not use it, but we’ll be ready.”
“Charlie, you’re the best.”
“I’m glad you’re starting to finally realize that.”
48
The first thing Monday morning, after his run and swim, Jack faxed his motion to the judge and the DA. Things were about to heat up. For the first time since Pat’s death, Jack felt the blood racing through his veins.
Afterward he stopped at the Pelican for breakfast, sitting at his usual place at the counter. Bill and Eddie were the only other ones there.
They were back on their wives again. It was like a soap opera. You could miss two weeks and pick up right where you left off.
While he and Hannah were chatting, a tall, attractive woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties walked into the diner and sat at the counter two spaces away from Jack. Hannah went over to take her order.
“Coffee?” Hannah asked.
“Yes, please,” the woman replied. “And could I see a menu?” Hannah handed her a menu and went to get the coffee.
“I’ll have tw
o scrambled eggs, home fries, and some whole wheat toast,” she said when Hannah returned.
Behind them, Uncle Bill stood up from the booth where he had been sitting. “I think I’ll go outside for a smoke,” he announced, certain that everyone wanted to know this information. He’d started smoking in the Navy and never given up. Jack had considered launching a personal campaign to get him to stop but decided against it. At eighty-eight, quitting might be more hazardous to Bill’s health than continuing the deadly habit.
Eddie followed Bill outside to continue their daily conversation about nothing in particular. Hannah headed to the front of the restaurant to wait on a couple who had just come in, leaving Jack alone at the counter next to the young woman.
“Just passing through?” Jack asked. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”
“No,” the woman replied, turning toward him. “I’m actually here on vacation.”
“Really?” Jack asked, genuinely surprised. “You don’t look like a fisherman, and we don’t get too many vacationers hereabouts these days other than fishermen.”
The young woman smiled shyly. She had short blond hair, brown eyes, and smooth, coffee-toned skin. “I’m in sales,” she said. “I’ve passed through here a few times on my way to Miami, and it looked so peaceful. I’m tired and need a rest, so I thought I’d come here.”
“Where are you staying?”
“At the Bass Creek Hotel.”
“Good place. They have a fine restaurant too. If you’re looking for a little variety there’s a Mexican restaurant on the other side of town called La Taqueria. They’ve got great food.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied. “Thank you.”
She was pretty and nice, and for a brief moment Jack considered inviting her to dinner. He dismissed the thought immediately.
“Well, I’ve got a busy day ahead of me. Nice to meet you,” he said as he stood up to leave.
The woman remained seated but extended her hand. “Nice to meet you too,” she replied. “My name is Molly, Molly Anderson.”
Jack took her hand. “Welcome to Bass Creek, Molly Anderson. I’m Jack Tobin.”
He waved good-bye to Hannah as he walked out of the diner.
Jack spent the rest of the day at his office, coordinating a time for an emergency hearing on his motion and trying to track down Sal Paglia’s file on Benny. It took most of the morning to find out what lawyers would be representing Carl Robertson’s estate and the telephone company at the motion hearing, which was set for that Friday afternoon at three o’clock.
The effort to find Sal’s file turned out to be futile.
“We sold the practice to Paver, Morrison, and Gould. They took everything,” Glenn Story, the lawyer for Sal’s estate, told Jack when he inquired. “Richard Gould was the partner who presided over the sale and transfer.”
“What’s the name of the file?” Gould asked when Jack finally got him on the phone.
“State v. Benny Avrile,” Jack replied.
“All right, I’ll check it out and call you back.”
Gould didn’t call back until four o’clock.
“I’m sorry to tell you this, Mr. Tobin, but we don’t have the file.”
“Do you know where it is?”
“No, and you probably won’t ever find it. Mr. Paglia’s office was vacant for a couple of months before we bought the practice. It had been broken into and ransacked. We had a master list of all the files. The Avrile case was on that list, but we never found it.”
“Were there other files missing?”
“About five in all. We made a police report, but nothing came of it.”
“Was anything of value taken in this break-in?” Jack asked.
“Oddly enough, no,” Richard Gould answered. “There were valuables in there, paintings and knickknacks and the like-things that could have been sold on the street.”
Jack was immediately suspicious. He decided to call his resident expert on petty crimes and criminals-Henry.
“Do you think somebody might have been looking for Benny’s file?” Jack asked after he had told Henry all about his conversation with Richard Gould. “And what specifically were they looking for? And if Sal knew something and it was in that file, could that have been the reason he was killed?”
“Hold on, Jack. One question at a time. Wasn’t Sal killed by his bookie?”
“Nothing’s been proven.”
“I think you might be jumping to conclusions. Everybody in that neighborhood knew Sal was dead five minutes after he was shot. As I recall, it’s not the best part of town. Of course some crackheads are going to break into his office if they know it’s empty. But they’re not looking for files or paintings or anything like that. They’re looking for money or something they can turn into money quick.”
“What about the file? Benny’s file was missing.”
“So were several others. They ransacked the place. I’m surprised they only took or destroyed five files. I think you’re overreacting a little.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
49
For some strange reason, Jack felt compelled to have dinner at La Taqueria that night. He arrived around seven. Molly was already there, sitting at a table for two under the Tips Up, Aspen Colorado sign. She waved to him when she saw him standing by the front door.
Lisa, the owner, saw the wave. “Looks like there’s an empty seat at that table, Jack,” she said to him, looking over at the seat across from Molly.
“It looks that way,” Jack replied. “I’d better check it out.” He walked over to Molly’s table. “Do you mind if I join you?”
“Not at all,” Molly said with a smile.
Rose was their waitress. She didn’t look happy to see Jack sitting with another woman.
“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked rather perfunctorily.
“I’ll have one of those.” Jack pointed to Molly’s margarita.
It was a lovely first dinner. Jack had two quick margaritas to calm his nerves. After that, he listened while Molly told him about her work. He noticed that she didn’t say much, if anything at all, about her personal life.
She was a regional manager for a pharmaceutical company headquartered in New York City. Her territory was the entire Southeast, and one week a month she traveled to different areas to visit her sales force.
“When I decided I needed a break, I had already been here in Florida for a week, and I’d passed through Bass Creek two days before. It was the first place that popped into my mind,” she said.
“So you’re looking for seclusion, and your first night somebody invites himself to dinner,” Jack replied.
“Nonsense, Jack!” she protested. She looked very pretty in a brightly colored sundress. “I’m enjoying the company.”
After dinner he walked her back to the Bass Creek Hotel. It was a lovely clear night. The moon was three-quarters full and a slight breeze was blowing.
“It must be so nice to live in a place like this. It’s such a far cry from New York City,” Molly said.
“There’s still room,” Jack replied.
“You know how it is, Jack. New York is where the money is.”
“I hear you. Not much industry in Bass Creek, and frankly, I hope it stays that way.”
They were standing in front of the hotel now. Jack said good night and started to walk away.
“I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow,” Molly yelled to him.
“I’ll be there.”
Jack finished his run rather quickly the next morning and skipped the swim altogether. Bill and Eddie were already at the Pelican when he arrived, sitting in a booth toward the back. Jack sat at his usual spot at the counter.
“Are you going to be around next winter?” Eddie asked Bill.
“What kind of a question is that?” Bill asked.
“I was just wondering because I have a nice winter coat I want to give you.”
“Well, the only place I’d be if I
wasn’t here next winter is six feet under, and you know that,” Bill replied.
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Well, you tell me where I’d be if I wasn’t here next winter,” Bill persisted.
Eddie just smiled. “I guess you’d be gone.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Bill replied. “What kind of question is that to ask anyone?”
Eddie looked over at Jack. “Jack, help me out here, will ya? I just want to tell him I have a nice winter coat for him.”
Just then Hannah set down Jack’s coffee and a bowl of oatmeal with raisins-his regular breakfast. “Eddie,” she interrupted before Jack had a chance to reply, “you said it. Now you have to live with it.” Hannah always took Uncle Bill’s side.
“But I just wanted to give Bill a coat,” Eddie pleaded.
“And you can’t give a coat to a dead man,” Bill put in grumpily. “That’s what you were saying.”
Jack couldn’t tell if Bill was serious or not. Bill liked to toy with Eddie. “I don’t think he meant anything by it, Uncle Bill.”
“You don’t think so, Jack?”
“No.”
“Okay then. Yes, Eddie, I plan on being around next winter, but no I don’t want a coat from you. Who knows where you got it from? Jack, do you know the other day he bought a shirt from a bum on the street? I mean, right off the man’s back!”
“It was a nice shirt,” Eddie protested. “I washed it five times.”
Just then Molly came in the front door. She was dressed in blue shorts and a white tank top. Jack couldn’t help but focus on her lithe figure as she walked down the aisle between the counter and the booths and sat right next to him.
“Good morning, Jack.”
“Good morning, Molly. How are they treating you over there at the hotel?”
“Very well, although I haven’t tried their breakfast yet. I prefer the atmosphere right here.”
“So, what big vacation plans do you have today?” Jack asked after Molly had placed her order.
“I was thinking of taking a ride over to the east coast. It’s less than an hour from here, isn’t it?”
The Law of Second Chances jt-2 Page 25
