Mob Lawyer 2: A Legal Thriller

by Dave Daren

  “So were they talking about the murder?” I asked.

  “Sort of,” she hemmed.

  “You’ve told me this much,” I prodded. “You might as well tell me the rest.”

  “You have to know that no one else in our group knows anything about this,” she said. “This is all on Eliot.”

  “Lila,” I said softly.

  She chewed her lip for a moment, then turned her soft brown eyes on me.

  “Ken was saying that you had an alibi and so the Sheriff couldn’t arrest you,” she said. “And Eliot said that didn’t matter. He said it didn’t matter who had killed Hup, as long as everyone believes it’s you, and then the town will take care of what needs to be done.”

  Which would explain why the men had attacked Belle and me as we left the diner, but it also made me wonder who or what Eliot was trying to protect.

  Chapter 10

  “I just couldn’t go back to the commune after the meeting,” she sighed. “I don’t know who I can trust if I can’t trust Eliot and Richard.”

  “I’m glad you called me,” I said. “But won’t they miss you?”

  She shrugged and turned her gaze out the passenger window.

  “Maybe, eventually,” she replied. “But people wander away all the time. Michael left just a few minutes before you arrived with a couple of women from the animal rights group. He probably won’t be back at the commune for a couple of days.”

  “Huh,” was all I managed to say.

  Part of me had still thought of the commune as being cult-like, probably because of the references to leaders, and, well, commune. But cults weren’t generally so loose with the rules about who left and when. They also didn’t invite strangers for dinner or sell gardenia perfume to the locals.

  “I don’t think I can keep a straight face around Eliot,” she said. “Not after hearing what he said. And then Eliot would ask what was wrong, and Richard would notice, and start asking questions. And then I’d cave and I’d tell them that I’d seen Eliot with the deputy and I was scared because I was the one you spent the night with, and I don’t know what would happen after that. Richard would tell me I had to do what was right, but Eliot would be there and he’d get angry or something….”

  She ran out of steam finally, and I looked quickly in her direction as we started down a flat stretch of road. I saw a tear curl along her cheek, and she quickly brushed it away with her fist.

  “It’s fine,” I said. “I’ll take you back to my hotel room. Belle is there now, working on our own investigation. You can tell her what you know, and maybe help us fill in some of the blanks.”

  She nodded but it was several minutes before she said anything.

  “I love mysteries,” she said. “I read everything Agatha Christie ever wrote before I was in high school and I don’t go to sleep until I’ve read at least one chapter in whatever book I’m reading. I always thought it would be fun to be involved in a mystery. But this isn’t fun. This is scary.”

  “Well,” I began, “Agatha Christie didn’t set any of her books in a town filled with unemployed miners, a crooked sheriff, and an unofficial mayor who runs his own mob.”

  I didn’t mention the out of towner with Mafia connections, though I was pretty sure the Grand Dame of mysteries had never written much about that either.

  “That’s for sure,” she agreed. “I think I like it better when it’s at some grand estate in the English countryside and everyone sips tea while the detective solves the case.”

  We both laughed at the image as I eased the truck up yet another hill. We made it to the top and followed the bend around a rocky overhang before we bounced down the other side towards a cluster of buildings that might have been a town or just a random collection of homes. We compared notes on favorite books the rest of the trip to Folsom, and Lila was looking relaxed again as we pulled into the lot at the inn.

  We found Belle in my hotel room, her cork board filled with more Post-it notes and an array of index cards held in place with thumbtacks. The two women greeted each other like long lost friends, and then Lila turned to study what Belle had managed to cobble together so far.

  “I should call my client,” I said. “Just to let him know what’s happened.”

  “That will give me a chance to talk to Lila,” Belle replied. “See if we can’t fill in a few of these gaps.”

  “I can help with that,” Lila readily agreed.

  Neither woman spared me a glance as I opened the door and stepped into the hallway. With a sigh, I closed the door and made my way to the staircase. I trotted down the sagging steps as quickly as I dared, waved to Jess who was lounging by the fireplace, then ran across the parking lot and the street to the backside of the government building.

  The usual crowd of people was there, though this time when I approached, I saw several people look at me, and more than a few fingers point in my direction. I returned to my spot by the drainpipe, now muddy from the rain, and dialed Anthony.

  “Morgan, what’s up?” my boss asked in a friendly tone.

  “Quite a lot,” I replied.

  “Uh oh,” Anthony teased. “Did Shifty and Hup make another demand for taxes?”

  “Hup is dead,” I said. “Shot twice, once in the head and once in the chest.”

  “Shit,” Anthony muttered after several minutes. “What the fuck happened?”

  “I don’t know,” I replied as I tried to read my client’s reaction. Did it sound genuine? Or was he simply saying what he thought I wanted to hear?

  “Damn,” Anthony hissed. “What’s the Sheriff think?”

  “He thinks you sent a hitman to kill Hup,” I said. “And that I knew about it.”

  Anthony actually laughed though it was harsh and unpleasant.

  “Let me guess,” Anthony huffed. “He doesn’t have any interest in looking elsewhere.”

  “Doesn’t look like it,” I said.

  “Are you under arrest?” he asked.

  “Not yet,” I replied. “I have an alibi and I hired Belle Lucent as my attorney this morning after the Sheriff took me in for questioning.”

  “Do you trust her?” Anthony asked. “Will she be able to help? If you need me to send someone else, I’m happy to do it.”

  “Like Landis?” I laughed.

  “Exactly who I had mind,” he replied with a stifled chuckle.

  “I think she’ll do fine,” I replied. “The real question is who killed Hup. We need to work that out if I’m ever going to make it back to New York.”

  “This sucks,” Anthony muttered. “All of this was supposed to help dad go legit, so how did this suddenly go so wrong?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I think Belle was right. She suggested that someone may have seen my arrival as an opportunity. The fact that I’m tied to the Febbos was too good to pass up.”

  Anthony pondered that for a moment, and it wasn’t hard to imagine the studied look that was probably on his face. His eyes would look more gray than green, and no doubt he tugged on his earlobe as he worked through his options.

  “Now you know why I dropped the name Febbo,” he said.

  “It does make life interesting,” I noted.

  “This is West Virginia,” my client muttered. “How the hell can the Febbo name be causing problems in West Virginia? This should be a simple, straightforward land deal. We should be making balsamic vinegar in that damned mine next month.”

  “You mentioned last time that you would work out a deal with Hup,” I said.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he snorted. “I know his type. He was hoping he could keep hitting us up for more money. I was going to make him a one-time lump sum offer and agree to join this hunt club. If he took it, fine. If he didn’t, we’d move on.”

  “I thought you didn’t want to lose the money you’ve already invested,” I said.

  “I don’t,” he agreed. “And it’s a huge hit if we lose it. But I’m also not going to keep paying off the town. Eventually, you end up payin
g a hell of a lot more than if you’d just walked away.”

  “You really think Shifty and Hup would ask for such a huge amount?” I asked.

  “I think so,” my client replied. “It might explain why they haven’t been able to attract any other businesses.”

  “That seems short-sighted,” I said. “I mean, all the Sheriff complains about is the fact that the town is dying and everyone is leaving.”

  “I would wager Hup didn’t care about that,” Anthony replied. “He just needed enough people around to feel powerful and a way to keep his coffers full.”

  “You’re probably right,” I said as I thought about the feral look the property assessor had given me. “But if we can clear the Febbo name in Hup’s murder, then I think the Sheriff is someone we can work with.”

  “You think he’ll take over?” Anthony asked.

  “Well, I think that’s still to be determined,” I replied. “But I haven’t seen any other candidates.”

  “What about your lawyer?” Anthony pressed.

  “Only if it means she gets to clear out Hup’s gang,” I said. “And I don’t think we’ll be facing any special taxes if she does.”

  “I guess we need to find this killer, then,” Anthony replied. “I can look into Shifty and Hup from here, see if anything pops.”

  “The Sheriff used to be in the Army,” I noted. “Used to interrogate prisoners. Maybe Hup did, too.”

  “That’s the kind of thing that will earn you some enemies,” Anthony mused. “Especially if they used the same tactics once they got home. Let me see if I can pick up any rumors about the pair.”

  “Thanks, Anthony,” I replied, and I really meant it.

  I don’t know why I ever doubted my client. Despite the anger that had been evident during our previous phone call, I should have known that he was true to his word. Yes, he was taking over the Febbo operations, but this transaction was part of Salvatore’s effort to go legitimate, and Anthony would never endanger that by sending a hitman to take out Hup. I was sure of that now, and I was even more determined to solve this case and close the deal.

  “Sure,” he said. “I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

  He hung up and I quickly checked my messages. I sent my parents a quick text letting them know I was alive and well and enjoying the fresh air in West Virginia on a business trip, then sent Liz the photo of the sign to Marion along with a text about my big Febbo-funded adventure in the wilds of Appalachia. After a few more texts to various friends and associates, I was ready to head back to the hotel.

  I ignored the stares as I walked through across the grass and the street, and even stopped to talk to the clerk for a moment about the possibility of a serial killer on the loose in Folsom. I assured him that the murder was probably not the beginning of a murder spree, and he did look slightly reassured as I started up the stairs.

  Belle and Lila were both sitting on the foot of the bed when I opened the door, and the women looked up in surprise when I stepped into the room. I wondered if I should have knocked first, then reminded myself it was my room.

  “Any brilliant discoveries?” I asked.

  “We’ve been trying to work out the timing,” Belle replied.

  “Does it really matter?” I asked. “It’s not like that road is so busy that you’d have to worry about being seen.”

  “That’s not strictly true,” Belle said. “A lot of overnight haulers use it.”

  “Still,” I mused.

  “It’s something,” Belle insisted. “And it’s only one small piece. Obviously, we have other things we need to do first.”

  Lila nodded in agreement, and I was happy to see the sparkle was back in her eyes.

  “Sure,” I agreed. “But maybe we should have an actual office where we can do some stuff online without having to worry about one of the salesmen walking in to use the printer.”

  “We can move all this to my office,” Belle replied. “Though I should warn you, it’s a bit dusty. I don’t use it that often because most of my clients are more comfortable at home.”

  “Does it have internet access?” I asked.

  “It does,” she agreed.

  “Then let’s move there,” I suggested. “And Lila, while we’re moving over to Belle’s, maybe you could talk to some of the people you know and see what they’re saying about Hup.”

  “I can do that,” she agreed. “I can be very sneaky when I want. They won’t even realize what I’m doing.”

  Lila helped us carry everything down to the car and the truck, and then she walked towards the stores after a quick wave. She ran to catch up with someone she recognized, a young man in a Steelers jersey, and the two fell into an easy conversation as they walked towards Jenkins.

  “That was well done,” Belle murmured as she stepped up next to me.

  “What do you mean?” I asked innocently.

  “You didn’t want her around for whatever you’re planning,” she replied.

  “I want to know more about the commune leaders,” I said.

  “I was wondering when someone was going to raise their names,” she snickered. “Well, why don’t you follow me. It’ll be easier than trying to give you directions and then you can drive back after we’re done.”

  I nodded and our little caravan pulled out of the lot and turned towards Jenkins Road. We went straight at the intersection, though, and followed the narrow road past a hodgepodge of wood and brick buildings and a vacant lot surrounded by a chain link fence. We turned at the lot and a block further on we were among a group of storybook houses with manicured lawns, gingerbread trim, and wide porches that always had at least one swing or rocking chair. We made a left turn by a children’s park, and started to climb upwards towards a line of old oaks.

  At the tree line, Belle made a right turn and we started downwards again. As we came around a bend, we were suddenly among another group of business offices, mostly two story brick buildings with unobtrusive signs. I spotted a doctor, a dentist, and even a geologist. Clearly, we’d found the business district, though I was sad to see that nearly half of the buildings were empty. Dusty ‘for sale’ signs hung in many of the windows, though it didn’t appear that anyone had come looking for space in several years.

  Belle pulled into a lot just big enough for three cars next to the only one-story building along the street. It was also the only wood structure in the neighborhood, and at one point, it had been painted a pale blue. Some of the paint was chipped and the plants in the pots near the door looked more like weeds, but at least it didn’t appear to be completely neglected. The sign by the door was clean and the welcome mat looked like it had just come from the store.

  Belle led me inside after unlocking the door. I stepped into what I supposed was the waiting area, which featured a long coffee table covered with magazines, a group of chairs in a blue floral pattern, and a desk with a lamp, a pad of paper, and a neat stack of mail. There was dust as well, though it looked like someone had tried to run a rag over most of the surfaces recently and the tracks of a vacuum cleaner were still visible in the carpet. There were two other doors, one to the left and one to the right. The door to the left had a brass name plate while the door to the right had a more mundane plastic sign that read ‘Employees Only’.

  “Someone’s been in recently,” I noted as I set the cork board on the desk.

  “Gina,” Belle said as she picked up the envelopes and flipped through them. “Poor girl thinks she wants to be a lawyer. She comes in a couple of times a week to dust and take care of whatever small assignments I’ve left for her. Let’s go into my office with all of this.”

  Belle pointed me towards the door with the brass nameplate. Belle’s name was engraved in script on the plate and I noticed that Gina had polished it recently. Belle didn’t seem to notice, though, as she sorted through her keys, then opened the office door.

  I found myself in a cozy room with its own fireplace and an impressive built in bookcase. The desk was large but
not so big that it dominated the room and held a computer screen, an old landline, a lamp, and even an old rolodex. There was enough room along the far wall for a small table and comfy looking armchairs covered in the same blue print as those in the waiting room. A Persian style rug in dark blue and blood red covered most of the floor, and one of those oil paintings of a dreamy English countryside with a lake and a house in the distance hung over the mantlepiece. The shelves were filled with books, though most didn’t appear to be law books.

  “I’ve got an easel somewhere,” Belle muttered as she set the bag she carried on the desk and then started to pick through a collection of equipment that was piled on the floor just beneath the window.

  “We could probably prop the cork board on the bookshelf,” I suggested.

  “Here,” she said as she started to tug on something. “I knew there was one in here. Had to use it last year for a case in Fairmont.”

  She yanked one more time and something heavy thumped to the floor. Belle ignored whatever had fallen over and held up the folded easel in triumph. She looked around the office, then stepped back across the room to the fireplace. She opened the easel, set it in front of the hearth, and then turned to look at me.

  “That’s great,” I said as I placed the cork board on the easel.

  A few of the Post-It notes had fallen off, and I rifled through them as I tried to figure out where they went. It was easy to tell who had written what, I noticed. Belle’s handwriting was small but precise and perfectly straight even without the assistance of a line. Lila’s, on the other hand, was large and loopy and relied heavily on text speak, as well as lots of various emojis.

  “Here, I can help,” Belle said as she peered at the notes over the top of her glasses.

  I passed her the stack, and she carefully placed each one in its proper space on the board. When she was done, she stepped back to study it and then nodded in approval.

  “I’d like to see what we can find out about Richard Kerry and Eliot Crenshaw,” I said.

  “It’ll take the computer a couple of minutes to boot up,” she said. “I’ll make some tea while it gets going.”