“How can that be?”
“I told you before, this man is crazy. David wanted me to marry him. Actually, that makes it sound too romantic. He said, ‘You and me are getting married, bitch, whether you fucking like it or not.’ I said no. I told him I was leaving Miami. That was when things got really bad.”
“How bad?”
She told him about the last time she’d seen Kaval—the night he’d knocked her to the ground and pressed his hand around her throat. “David said that no matter where I went, we’d always be in a relationship. I guess I didn’t fully understand what he meant until about five years later, when he sent me a letter from prison.”
“That’s the next thing I was going to ask you about,” said Jack. “He told me he sent you two letters from FSP. So you got them?”
“I only got one. I don’t know anything about a second letter.”
“Okay, you never know with prison mail. But you did get a letter from him, right?”
“Yes. That’s when I found out about this completely bogus marriage certificate that he got from—I don’t know where he got it. Somewhere. Probably off the Internet.”
“So there was no ceremony, no exchange of vows?”
“No! There was nothing except this piece of paper he created. He said if I gave him money, he would make it go away.”
“That wasn’t exactly how he characterized his letter.”
“Of course it’s not. He’s a liar. Do you believe him or me?”
“He said he simply asked you for money.”
“Technically speaking, yes, he did. But did he tell you there was a copy of the marriage certificate with the letter?”
“He left that part out.”
“He’s not stupid, Jack. David wouldn’t have written a letter from prison that is blatant extortion: ‘Pay me a hundred thousand dollars to make this problem go away.’ He knew there was a chance that some prison screener might read it and say he’s committing a crime.”
“A small chance,” said Jack. “Prisons would like you to think that every letter coming and going is read, but that’s not the case. The only thing you can be sure of is that incoming mail is opened to make sure nothing illegal is inside.”
“Okay, but he still had to be careful, because I could have taken the letter to the police and charged him with extortion. You have to look at the whole picture. I was engaged to Keith when I got this letter. David asked for money and included a copy of the marriage certificate. It didn’t necessarily scream ‘extortion’ to an outsider, but the message to me was clear enough.”
“Did you send him money?”
“No!”
“You just ignored the letter?”
“I went to see a lawyer in Zurich. He said I had a choice. I could go to a lot of aggravation and expense to clear this up and spoil the happiest time of my life; or I could enjoy my wedding, look forward to a future with the most wonderful man I had ever met, and go on with my life. I went on with my life.”
“If you ignored him, how did the dissolution of marriage come about?”
“I don’t know. Ask David.”
Jack had asked him, but he wanted Isa’s answer. She apparently had nothing to add—or nothing she wanted to share. Jack moved on. “What did you do with Kaval’s letter?”
“I threw it away.”
“Did you show it to Keith?”
“No.”
“You and Keith were about to be married. How could you not tell him about the marriage certificate?”
“I did tell him. You asked me if I showed it to him. Look, this was totally bogus. It all boiled down to the fact that an old boyfriend was trying to shake me down for money.”
Jack watched a yacht cruising upriver—downriver, actually. The St. Johns was the only major river in America that flowed south to north, which at the moment seemed about as odd as the flow of information from his client.
“You keep a lot of secrets, Isa.”
“I told Keith.”
“I don’t just mean the letter. There’s a little matter of a collect phone call from FSP that came up in the deposition, too.”
She paused. “I’m surprised David admitted to that.”
“I’m even more surprised that you didn’t tell me.”
“You’re my lawyer, not my life manager, Jack. These are my problems. I can deal with them.”
“If they come up in the courtroom, they’re my problem.”
“Well, now you know about it. Problem solved.”
“Do you plan to tell Keith?”
“Are you talking to me now as my lawyer or Keith’s friend?”
“It’s a question I would ask any client.”
She scoffed, and her voice grew louder in Jack’s ear. “What could Keith do about any of this? For that matter, what can you do about it?”
“I could get a court order to make Kaval stop calling you.”
“And what would that accomplish?”
“Give you and your family peace of mind. Send Kaval a message to back off.”
“No, no, no,” she said, her exasperation clear. “You’d be playing David’s game. He told me that we would always have a relationship. Don’t you get it? If I go to the police or a judge. If I get my husband involved. If I hire a lawyer. If I respond to his letters or his collect calls in any way—if I credit his actions with any kind of reaction from me—to David, that is a relationship. That’s the ‘relationship’ we will always be in.”
The waitress brought Jack’s dinner. He gave her a silent thank-you, and when she was gone, he wrapped things up with Isa.
“When is Keith coming back to Miami?”
“This weekend.”
“We should all sit down and have a meeting—you, Keith, and me.”
“Why Keith? Aren’t you the one who always says he’s not your client?”
“True,” said Jack. “But this isn’t strictly about the case.”
“What’s it about?”
Jack’s gaze drifted toward the northerly flowing river again. “Relationships.”
Chapter 33
On Tuesday morning Isa took her daughter to Jackson Memorial Hospital for her eight-week checkup.
Melany had been doing incredibly well post-op. Antibiotics were SOP for implant surgery, but Melany had shown no sign of infection, and there had been no need to continue the regimen beyond week one. By week three the incision had healed cleanly, and they were able to activate the implant. The one in her healthy ear had been working all along, so it wasn’t the dramatic moment they had experienced the first time—the realization that Melany could “hear.” But it still brought tears to Isa’s eyes. She wished Keith had been able to be there.
The nurse led them to the examination room. Dr. Balkany was in Paris to deliver a lecture on the surgery he’d pioneered, and Isa was confident that Melany’s operation was yet another success under his belt. Dr. Miles Vinas, a young resident in the otolaryngology department, told Melany to hop up onto the table and started the examination.
“Okay, Melany, let’s make sure your heart’s okay.” He placed his stethoscope on her knee, which made her giggle.
“Yup, everything seems to be ticking along just fine.”
Isa had never met Dr. Vinas, but she liked him so far. Melany had seen scores of doctors in her short lifetime, and the bedside manner ran the gamut, from “born to treat children” to Cruella de Vil.
“Could we leave Melany here with the nurse for a minute?” he asked. “I’d like to speak with you. In private.”
Isa’s heart skipped a beat. She didn’t ask aloud, but the question was on the tip of her tongue: Is there something wrong?
“It will just take a minute,” said the doctor.
“Sure,” said Isa, unable to hide the anxiety in her voice. She kissed her daughter on the forehead and said, “Mommy will be right back.”
The doctor led her out into the hallway and closed the office door.
“Is there a problem?” asked Isa.
“No, Melany is doing beautifully.”
Isa could breathe again. “That’s a relief.”
“I just wanted to ask: Do we have all the medical records for Melany in our file?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m totally on top of Melany’s medical history. You have all of it, from the day she was born.”
“I’m not just talking about doctor visits. I mean everything. Clinics. Emergency room visits. Trauma centers.”
Trauma centers? “Is there something specific you think is missing?”
He paused, as if measuring his words. “Here’s the situation. I don’t know if the doctor in Hong Kong botched the first surgery or not.”
“Honestly, I don’t care one way or the other,” said Isa. “All that matters is that Melany is fine now. That’s why I brought her all the way here to see Dr. Balkany. I wanted it done right. I’m not looking for a medical malpractice lawsuit against the first surgeon.”
“No, that’s not where I’m going with this,” he said.
“Then I’m not following you.”
“I’ve looked at Melany’s file. I studied it carefully. Dr. Balkany would know better, since he performed the corrective surgery. But based on my review, I have some questions.”
“About what?”
“As I indicated, I wouldn’t jump to the conclusion that the first surgery was botched. In fact, I would tend to believe that it was a success.”
Isa shook her head, incredulous. “How can you say that? Melany couldn’t hear a thing, and if we had let this go any longer, the ossification would have progressed to the point that she would no longer be a candidate for an implant.”
“But the surgery wasn’t a failure from the very beginning. The audiology reports seem to indicate that there were signs of reception.”
“Not for very long. Personally, I believe those early reports were false positives.”
“That’s possible. My point is this: it is also possible that something happened after the surgery. Something unrelated to the surgery itself. An external event.”
“Meaning what, in lay terms?”
“A well-documented reason for failure of cochlear implant surgery is the displacement of the magnet of the CI receiver stimulator package. The case studies I’ve seen suggest that this displacement is usually due to trauma.”
That word again. “Trauma?”
“In particular, head trauma.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she didn’t like the implication. “Are you asking me if someone hit Melany in the head?”
He just looked at her, saying nothing, which made his question even clearer. “You’re asking if I hit her, aren’t you?”
“ I’m a health care professional. It’s my legal duty.”
Isa’s mouth fell open. “Do you think I would hurt my own child?”
“I’m just asking the appropriate questions.”
“Melany is raised in a loving home. She’s everything to me. We flew all the way from Hong Kong to take care of this problem. I did that for her, and I end up getting—” She stopped herself, feeling the anger rising up inside her. “You’ve been watching way too much local news, Doctor.”
She gathered herself, trying to stop the tears. It was a cumulative effect that she’d felt since the indictment, what she felt every time she spoke to her own lawyers, and what she knew she would face for the rest of her life, even if she were acquitted of all charges: suspicion. Jack had the audacity to accuse her of keeping secrets. Why did he think she hadn’t told him, or her husband, or anyone else the things that everyone in hindsight thought she should have spoken about freely, as if there were no consequences? Isa knew the drill. Sexual assault was in a category by itself. The victim was associated with the crime; and all too often, the victim became the criminal. The more you say, the more you pay. She could only imagine what Dr. Vinas was writing in Melany’s permanent medical record. Possible head trauma. Mother potentially violent. For more than a decade, Isa had managed to keep Gabriel Sosa from following her everywhere. Now there was no escape. Not for her. Not for her daughter.
She opened the door, went quickly to the examination table, and wrapped Melany in her arms.
“Are you okay, Mommy?”
She fought back tears, not showing her face to Melany until she was certain that her emotions were under control. Then she lifted Melany from the table and put her on her feet.
“Yes, sweetie. Mommy’s fine. Let’s go home.”
She took Melany by the hand and hurried out of the office, saying nothing to Dr. Vinas as they passed him in the hallway on the way out.
Chapter 34
Jack picked up Theo at Cy’s Place around nine p.m. It was time he and his investigator hopped back on the trail of evidence.
The deposition of David Kaval had produced much more than a certificate of marriage. Jack had promising leads. At the top of his to-do list: nail down “John Doe” in the indictment. According to Kaval, the name of his accomplice really was “John.” Beyond that, Kaval had been less than helpful: “Never knew his last name” and “got no idea where he is now.”
“That’s such bullshit,” said Theo. He was working behind the bar, checking the cash levels in the register.
“Maybe not,” said Jack. “John Doe probably never knew Kaval’s last name, either. That’s just the way these guys operate.”
He closed the register. “The state attorney knows. She’s just not telling you. I’ll bet your car on that.”
“My car?”
“Yeah, your car. You’re getting a new one, anyway. Riley says she wants you in a minivan. Preferably pink, with denim upholstery.”
“Gee, I wonder who gave her that idea.”
Theo just laughed. Jack waited for him to give the assistant manager the “quick and dirty” on how not to burn the place down while he was away. Then they left through the kitchen, got in Jack’s car, and started across town.
“So, we’re going back to the body shop where this guy worked?” asked Theo.
“No and no,” said Jack.
“That was one question. What’s up with the double no?”
“No, we are not going back to the body shop. And no, John Doe didn’t work there. That’s why we’ve had such a hard time finding him.”
“Then how did Kaval and his buddy get into the body shop?”
“They broke in. They took Sosa to a place that the police couldn’t trace back to them or to anyone they knew.”
“Smart. So where are we going now?”
“Club Inversion on South Beach. Kaval gave me something to go on. That’s where John Doe used to earn an honest living.”
“Honest? Are you high?”
“No, I’m being facetious.”
“If feces-ish has anything to do with talking shit, then you’re right on the money. Club Inversion is like a spigot for Miami’s drug pipeline from China. I’m talking the synthetic shit. Molly. Spice. Flakka. All the shit that chemists cook up in their labs in Shanghai and that college kids can’t get enough of. The deals are cut at Club Inversion. It’s common knowledge.”
“Yup. And that’s why you’re going with me.”
“Then I need to change clothes. Gotta look the part. And we need a plan.”
“We can stop by your place on the way there.”
“Nuh-uh,” said Theo. “I don’t work that cheap. We’re stopping by the mall.”
“Lookin’ hot,” Theo said to a couple of young women. They were dressed to kill and pleading their case to a rock-solid bouncer who was the keeper of the gate to the hottest dance club on South Beach.
The taller one checked him out. “Lookin’ pretty hot yourself.”
Theo did. They’d stopped by the Armani shop at Brickell City Centre, which was on the way to South Beach. The shirt alone had set Jack back three hundred bucks, and if Theo moved the wrong way his pecs might pop the buttons, but Theo was right: they needed to look the pa
rt.
The waiting line extended down the sidewalk, around the corner, and halfway up the block again. Most of the hopefuls would never see beyond the bouncers. Fat chance for the khaki-clad conventioneer from Pittsburgh who was dressed to sell insurance. The Latin babe in the Staccato heels was a shoo-in. Most of the rejects would shrug it off and launch plan B. Others would plead and beg, to no avail, only embarrassing themselves. A few would curse at the bouncers, maybe even come at them, driven by a dangerous combination of drugs and testosterone, only to find out that these guys didn’t just look mean.
Jack put on an air of confidence and walked straight to the front of the line. “Hey, good to see you, my friend,” he said as he slid a fifty into the bouncer’s hand.
The guy was a tattooed pillar of Brazilian marble, but money always talked.
“Next time don’t pretend to fucking know me,” he said as he tucked away the cash.
Theo stepped between them—and the stone-faced bouncer actually smiled.
“Hey, Mr. Theo Knight. How you doin’, my man?”
Jack watched as he and Theo shook hands eleven different ways, finishing with a smile and an exchange of pulled punches to their rock-hard biceps, the standard prison-yard ritual.
“Richie, this here’s my best buddy,” said Theo.
“Looks more like your accountant.”
Jack had expected him to say “lawyer,” but he was somehow even more offended. Theo laughed and said, “Nah, he’s cool.”
“Then we all cool,” he said as he reached into his pocket for Jack’s cash. “Here, lemme give back—”
“No, no,” said Theo, pushing the money back into his pocket. “It’s the price of admission for an amateur. But, hey, maybe you can help me with some business.” Bi’niss.
“What kinda business?”
“The business.”
He clearly knew what Theo meant, and he took them aside, out of earshot from the people in line. “What about it, Theo?”
“I need to talk to someone who goes way back. Knows the old-time players.”
“Like how far back?”
“Ten years or more.”
Richie thought about it. “You got the wrong club, bro. Anyone who goes back that far is in Club Fed now.”
Most Dangerous Place Page 17
