Mob Lawyer 2: A Legal Thriller

by Dave Daren

  Chapter 6

  There was already a crowd gathered behind the government building when I arrived, scattered across the grass and wildflowers as they tried to find a private spot to hold their conversations. I ended up against the wall, next to an old drain pipe in a spot where the plants had apparently given up.

  Anthony answered quickly, and I could tell from the sound of his voice that he was in a good mood. I shook my head and tried to sort out what I had to tell him while he relayed greetings from Gulia and Uncle Michael, then announced he would just step outside for a moment.

  “I’m back,” Anthony announced.

  “Big party?” I asked.

  “Nah,” Anthony replied. “But somehow everyone ended up here. We had good news from the doctors today. They’re seeing more brain activity.”

  “That is good,” I remarked.

  “So what’s the word from West Virginia?” my client asked.

  “Complicated,” I finally said after a long hesitation.

  “I’m not a fan of complicated,” Anthony replied after an equally long pause.

  “Well, I’ll start with the easy stuff,” I sighed. “There’s probably going to be a charge for damage to the car.”

  “What, did you drive it into a ditch or something?” Anthony laughed.

  “No, though at least I could explain that,” I replied. “It got painted last night.”

  “Did you just say it got painted last night?” Anthony asked.

  “A handful of people dressed like ninjas showed up at the inn, well, early this morning, actually, and dumped paint on the car,” I explained. “And then they used spray paint to leave messages on the windows.”

  “What kind of messages?” Anthony asked and I noted that his voice had become deadly serious.

  “Anti-coal messages,” I said.

  There was a pause while Anthony pondered that, and I watched a pair of dragonflies zip around a puddle of water.

  “So we need to make it clear we’re not there for the coal,” Anthony stated. “Do we know who’s behind this?”

  “I think word is starting to get around that we’re only interested in making vinegar,” I replied. “But apparently, Bam kept that information to himself after our talk yesterday, so I’ve had to do the explaining this morning. I think people believe me, but I guess we’ll find out. As for the who, the Sheriff seems to think it’s a group of environmentalists who live in a commune outside of town. We went by this morning, but they denied any part in the paint job.”

  “But it sounds like the Sheriff is on board now,” Anthony noted.

  “Ummm…” I stuttered.

  “What?” Anthony pressed.

  “So, Bam, that’s Mr. Bluefeld, apparently doesn’t get along with the Sheriff or Hup, that’s the property appraiser, though I’m not sure how long their war has been going on or how serious this is,” I said. “I sort of think it might just be because of this sale and Bam doesn’t see why he should have to share anything with Shifty or Hup since it’s his family property.”

  “Ooookay,” Anthony drawled, and I could picture him as he tugged on an ear lobe and turned the gray-green eyes he inherited from his mother towards some distant point while he sorted through all the characters.

  “In the meantime, the Sheriff, that’s Shifty, wants a job for his nephew, which I’ve already told you, and Hup, that’s the appraiser, wants some numbers on how many people we’ll employ and what kind of sales we can expect, all so he can figure out an appropriate tax. He also wants you to join the local hunt club, which includes an annual fee.”

  “Uh-huh,” Anthony murmured. “A tax, eh?”

  “The Sheriff is also holding secret meetings with one of the commune leaders, which may explain why all their protesting has shifted to other towns,” I continued, “but it might also suggest that a bribe, er, donation may be needed to keep the protestors away from the facility once we take ownership.”

  “Cripes,” Anthony muttered.

  “I’m not done yet,” I warned him. “There’s also an attorney here named Belle Lucent. She claims she can help us get title to the property without having to pay anyone off.”

  “And in return?” Anthony sighed.

  “She was sort of vague,” I said. “She says she wants to bring down the good ‘ol boy network but I’m not sure what that means for us or what she plans to replace it with.”

  “What’s your impression of her?” he asked.

  “We didn’t talk that long so it’s hard to be sure,” I said. “But I do think she views us as a weapon she can use to end Hup’s hold on the town. And she seemed genuine about wanting to restore integrity to the town’s government.”

  “A do-gooder, then,” Anthony mused. “I’m not sure how she thinks we can help her cause.”

  “I don’t know either,” I replied. “But she offered her services in dealing with Hup and Shifty.”

  “Is that really a good idea?’ my client asked. “Sounds like things were rolling along fine.”

  “Except the bill keeps getting bigger,” I pointed out. “Bam is onboard with the sale, and the Sheriff seems content with the job offer. And if we hire a few more locals, I think we’ll have him as a life-long friend. Hup’s the one we have to worry about, and he knows it. I’m not sure his demands will be worth it.”

  “Maybe we use Belle as a counter, then,” Anthony replied. “Is that what you’re suggesting?”

  “It’s a possibility,” I said. “Though I thought I would ask around and see if she has the type of power she claims she has.”

  “And I thought the zoning board was a nightmare,” Anthony remarked.

  “Belle mentioned something else,” I added. “She said I should ask Bam about the last man who tried to buy the property.”

  “No doubt so Bam could tell you what sort of outrageous demands this Hup person made,” Anthony replied.

  “Yeah, but the Sheriff mentioned it as well,” I said as I dropped my voice. “The Sheriff claims that the man’s car was found by the side of the road with a flat tire but no one ever found the man.”

  I could almost hear Anthony sit up straighter, and his brain kick into another gear. I waited for him to sort through all the possibilities, and then he dropped a couple of f-bombs.

  “Was the Sheriff trying to threaten you?” Anthony demanded.

  “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “We’d just left Hup’s place, so I was a little on edge anyway. But Hup threatened me. He said we had to pay or we would end up in a war with the locals. He said I would be the first one he killed.”

  I found myself listening to the birds that flapped around the green space and the sound of a car alarm on Anthony’s end.

  “There is one thing my father always said that I believe in,” Anthony finally replied. “A threat against anyone in the family is a threat against me.”

  “I’m sure that will go over well if I were to tell the Sheriff to pass that along to Hup,” I replied in what I hoped sounded like a joking voice. “And I should point out that someone has clearly told the Sheriff and Bam and Hup and who knows who else that you’re the one buying the property, probably in the hopes of stirring up a reaction from you.”

  “I don’t like it,” Anthony insisted. “I don’t like any of it. Someone’s trying to end the deal while some redneck sheriff thinks he can just threaten my lawyer?”

  “Look, I think we can still get the mine,” I said. “It’s just a matter of deciding if you want to pay off Hup or if you’re willing to go around him.”

  There was another long round of silence, this time filled with static and then Anthony calling to someone.

  “I don’t suppose they gave you a name for this other buyer,” Anthony eventually asked.

  “No, but I could check with Bam,” I said.

  “Fine,” Anthony replied. “Just keep working on this, Hunter. I want this deal done. You do your part, and I’ll do my part. I can handle people like Hup. You don’t need to worry about him.”
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  Anthony hung up before I could ask him what he considered his part to be. It was unlike my client to be so abrupt, but he seemed genuinely pissed off that the deal might fall through because of one small town thug’s greed. On the other hand, I wondered if Salvatore had encountered a few of these issues already and had second thoughts about completing the deal. It would explain why it had languished on Lyle Landis’ desk for the last few months even though Landis had managed to take care of the rest of Salvatore’s business dealings. But that was neither here nor there, and I had my marching orders from my boss.

  A visit to Bam seemed to be in order, as well as the visit to the mine that I was supposed to make. I also had to figure out who would have information about Belle Lucent and see if I could get a better sense of the woman, but all of those tasks required transportation, which I was currently lacking.

  I walked back to the hotel to find the clerk, Jess, and Billy gathered around a dusty truck that looked like a prop from some movie set in the 1950s. It was probably red beneath the dirt and grime, though it looked more orange at the moment, with a white roof over the cab, a humped hood, and a profile so low to the road I wondered how it even made it over a speed bump without scraping something. I could just pick out the name ‘Ford’ on the tailgate, which was nothing more than a metal plate on a hinge with a pair of chains to hold it upright.

  “There you are,” Billy said with a grin when the clerk pointed me out. “Should have asked if you know how to drive a stick, but I don’t always remember to do that since most folks around here do.”

  “I can,” I said as I peered inside the truck.

  There were no upgrades, as far as I could tell. No modern radio, no charger for the phone, not even a drink holder sized for large beverages. There was, however, an old gear shift, a bench seat covered with a flower print sheet, and a glove box that appeared to be stuck halfway between closed and open. There was also a vaguely fishy smell, though someone had sprayed some sort of pine air freshener in the cab to cover it up.

  “This is for me?” I asked as I looked towards Billy.

  The mechanic nodded and patted the truck on its hood.

  “Ford F-150, 1956,” he declared.

  Well, at least I’d gotten the decade right. I peered inside the cab again and studied the knobs that I could see. One had to be the lights, but I’d have to play around with the rest to figure out what they did.

  “And it’s okay to drive on the roads around here?” I asked as I stepped back and peered at the tires again.

  “Sure,” Billy replied. “As long as you don’t drive too fast. But no one around here ever does, ‘cept maybe the Sheriff when he gets a yen for some pie.”

  The clerk laughed at that and then patted Jess on the head. Dog and owner walked back inside the inn, where one of the salesmen had appeared at the counter.

  “You’ll be fine,” Billy assured me. “Though I should probably tell you that there’s no power assist on the clutch, so you really need to press hard. Other than that, it’s just like driving any other stick.”

  Billy handed me the key, then chuckled as he started to walk away. He hopped into another truck parked alongside the street and driven by a beefy man with a heavy beard and a confederate flag baseball cap. The truck drove slowly past the park, then turned onto the road that led to the shop.

  “So, what should I do first?” I asked the truck.

  There was no answer from the vehicle, and after considering my to-do list again, I decided I should stop by Bam’s again. I wanted to let him know that I was heading out to the mine, and I also wanted to get his reaction towards Belle Lucent. It was curious, I thought, that she had approached me rather than Bam, but maybe she thought Bam was just part of the network she wanted to bring down.

  I walked around to the driver’s side and slid inside the truck. There definitely wasn’t much in the way of padding in the seat and the layout felt as if it had been designed for someone a couple of inches shorter than me. I played around with the buttons for a moment, though there were only a few of those, and once I was satisfied that I knew the fundamentals, I put the key in the ignition and turned it. The engine coughed and sputtered for a moment until I fed it a little gas, and then chugged to life. I studied the stick, just to confirm each gear location, and then tried to ease the truck into reverse.

  “Shit,” I muttered when I realized that Billy hadn’t been exaggerating about the clutch.

  I heard the gears grind in protest and I grit my teeth against the shrill sound. I stomped down as hard as I could and finally managed to release the clutch. The truck shifted quietly into reverse, and I puttered backwards until I was clear of the other cars. I took a deep breath, then stomped as hard as I could on the clutch and managed to shift the gear into first without any problems.

  I did fine as I turned onto Jenkins Road and drove slowly past the diner and the emporium. A few pedestrians even waved as I went by, and I hoped that was a sign that word of Campania Olio’s plans had met with the approval of the locals. I made it past the roller rink, the convenience store, and the strip joint and was feeling rather proud of my skills with the old truck when I reached the sign for Marion.

  As I started up Digger’s Creek Road, the truck started to shimmy and the potholes kept bouncing me into the roof. But there were no seat belts to keep me in place and no lower gears to help soothe the engine’s struggles. About halfway up, I thought the truck was about to give up and start rolling backwards down the hill, but I managed to keep it moving forward after nearly flooding the engine in an anxious attempt to extract a little more power.

  The truck eased over the top of the hill and rolled forward a few feet before I could turn the wheel and point it towards the track to Bam’s property. I managed to avoid swiping the camel by inches, and then I had to stop and take a deep breath as I stared at the next bit of winding road. Ever so slowly, I eased the truck up the final bumpy trail as dogwood petals drifted down and landed on the slow moving truck.

  Bam was already outside when I reached the summit, a drink that looked suspiciously like a green smoothie in one hand and a fat cigar in the other. The dogs and cats were scattered around the lawn, though the cats ran back inside as the truck let out a belch of smoke and the dogs started to howl.

  “Found yourself a ride, I see,” Bam chuckled as I pulled my bruised and battered self from the truck.

  “I wasn’t sure I would make it up here,” I replied.

  “Well, you certainly couldn’t sneak up on anyone in that thing,” Bam noted. “Heck, they probably heard you coming over in the next valley.”

  “I wanted to go take a look at the mine,” I said as I tried to work a kink out of my neck. “See if I could fill in a few of those blank spots in the contract.”

  Bam nodded, then took a sip of his smoothie and a puff on his cigar.

  “I’ll call and let Carl know you’re heading out,” he said. “I took a look at the contract real quick, then walked it over to my lawyer. He said he’d get back to me if there was anything he didn’t like.”

  “That’s fine,” I said. “If you’d like, I could just deal with your attorney from now on.”

  “Naw,” Bam chuckled. “I like Charlie, and I think he does his best for me, but if I left it to him, this deal wouldn’t be done until I was ninety.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked as one of the hounds started to sniff at my shoes.

  “Charlie’s a might slow,” Bam explained. “Not mentally. Mentally, he’s real sharp. But he just moves real slow. Took him five years to pick out a new toilet seat.”

  “So how long will it take him to review the contract?” I asked in dismay.

  “That was more of a courtesy,” Bam replied. “We’ll probably conclude our business while he’s still fussing over some word or other.”

  “Oh,” I replied. “Listen, I wanted to ask you about one of the other attorneys in town. Belle Lucent?”

  “I heard she’d talked to ya,” Bam sniffed.
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  “She said she could help us finish this deal without having to… pay taxes,” I said.

  Bam took another sip of his drink and a long puff on his cigar. He watched the hounds as they sniffed at the grass and my shoes, then studied the cats as they slipped back outside and headed towards Bam’s truck on the tarp.

  “She might could do that,” Bam agreed. “She’s been fighting Hup for years now, trying to wrest power away from him and return it to the elected officials.”

  “Isn’t Hup an elected official?” I asked.

  “Welllll,” Bam drawled. “That depends on whether you consider the votes of the dead and moved away to be real votes or not.”

  Bam started to chuckle, which soon became a deep, body shaking laugh that set the dogs howling again. With his hands full, Bam had no easy way to wipe away the tears that started to form in his eyes though he waved the cigar dangerously close to his face. It was hard not to grin at the sight, which only made Bam laugh harder. He might have gone all day like that, but Sherman trotted from the trees and stopped near the edge of the grass to watch.

  “Damn scallywag,” Bam chortled when he spotted the horse.

  The horse moved a few steps closer, and Bam’s laughter finally died away. Sherman and Bam watched each other for a moment, and then the human shook his head and took another gulp of the smoothie.

  “What’s the easiest way to reach the mine from here?” I asked.

  “I’ll come with you,” Bam suggested. “We can go in my truck, and I can tell you about Belle along the way.”

  I glanced towards the truck that was still parked on top of the tarp. It didn’t appear to be in much better shape than my current ride, though it at least looked like it had been built in the current century.

  I heard Bam start to chuckle again and I turned to look at him.

  He shook his head and then waved the cigar at the truck.

  “Not that one,” he assured me. “Come on, I’ll grab the keys and we’ll head over. It’ll take ya too long if you’re gonna try to get there in that old thing of yers.”