5 Bargain Hunting

by Rhonda Pollero

  We made plans to meet at Five Brothers at one.

  I gathered up my Travis Johnson material and a pad and headed up to the fourth floor. The executive secretary announced my arrival and I was allowed to walk down the hall to Tony’s office.

  He looked a little tired. “You okay?” I asked.

  “Only if you tell me I have a shrink for Travis.”

  “He’ll be at the detention center at eleven.”

  “Thank God. I spoke to the prosecutor this morning and he’s out for blood. He really wants that kid tried for murder as an adult.”

  “Is there anything you need me to do?” I asked.

  “How are things going on getting the records on Travis?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “DCF will only provide information under subpoena. The school won’t release the information without a waiver from the parent or legal guardian, which is DCF. Ditto with the medical records. I filled out the subpoenas and they’ll be messengered over this morning. We should have the paperwork in a day or so, then I can get the information. Is there anything else I can do?”

  Tony rubbed his hands over his face. “Yeah, I need a miracle.”

  “Then you’re in luck,” I said. “I think I have a lead on Liam’s case.”

  Tony sat back in his chair. “Shoot.”

  “The Latin Bandits had an inside man.”

  “A cop?” he asked, his interest piqued. “José? He had the tattoo.”

  “I don’t know yet. I was thinking of going to see José’s ex-wife to see if she can shed any light on the accusation.”

  “Just who made this accusation?” Tony asked.

  I squirmed a little in my seat. “Jimmy Santos.”

  He leaned forward. “Please tell me Liam went to see Santos and you didn’t ignore my very specific instructions.”

  “I went to South Bay prison yesterday.”

  “Jesus, Finley.”

  “It’s a secure facility. I wasn’t in any danger. The worst part was getting through security,” I lied. No need to tell him I needed to tease Santos with a lacy bra to get him to talk.

  “Do I need to staple you to your chair?”

  “Not in this skirt. I paid full price,” I joked. It didn’t seem to help.

  “Just so we don’t have any more misunderstandings, stay away from high-security prisons. Besides, Santos would lie about his own mother just for the fun of it.”

  “But,” I argued, “why lie about being ripped off? According to Santos, every time there was a bust, cash went missing.”

  “According to Santos. And he’s not very reliable.”

  “Then let me talk to the ex–Mrs. Lopez.”

  He was shaking his head. “I doubt she’ll want to talk to a paralegal representing the man who is accused of killing José.”

  “They’re divorced. Maybe she won’t care. At least let me try.”

  “Fine. But no one else. Let me or Liam handle talking to the cops.”

  “Fair enough.” Good thing he didn’t know I had hand-delivered the letters. Although he might find it helpful to know Armando hid from me and the others all met me with hostility.

  Once I was back at my office, I decided to dig a little deeper into the lives of the officers in the gang unit. I started with José Lopez only because I had a suspicion that whatever was going on had started with him. He was the only one I could tie directly to the Latin Bandits.

  José was divorced, so I used LexisNexis to get information from the pleadings. It wasn’t a typical divorce. Mrs. Lopez got it all. And I mean all. The house in Ibis, the car, the boat, and the kids. What she didn’t get was alimony. And I think I knew why. Alimony is taxable, so instead José was paying a ton in child support. It didn’t look good. I added up the figures and José’s expenditures far exceeded his salary. I also checked the property records and discovered José and his wife had bought the house in Ibis at the height of the real estate boom. On first blush, the house was now valued in the low three hundreds. But when they purchased it, the price was a hefty six hundred and seventy-five. They’d put down a 70 percent deposit, and up until the time of his death, José was paying the mortgage plus the rent on his house in Riviera Beach.

  Now that I knew something about the scam, I rechecked the other officers’ assets. All had bought expensive properties using hefty down payments so their mortgages were in line with their income. The homes were well out of their price ranges. Well, everyone but Stan Cain. He and his wife had a nice ranch in the Acreage with a tax base of one hundred and ninety thousand. Whatever was going on, Stan wasn’t involved. Which was probably what got him killed.

  I dialed Liam’s cell. “Hey,” he answered.

  “Are you in a tunnel?” I asked.

  “You’re on speakerphone. I’m heating up moo shu unless you’ve got a better offer.”

  “Sorry, lunch with the girls.”

  “Too bad. What’s up?”

  “I know how they were hiding the money.”

  “Who?”

  “All of them. Well, except Stan Cain.” I explained how they had all invested in homes, boats, and cars and put assets in their wives’ names. It was really quite creative. Liam was quiet for a moment. “Liam?”

  “I’m here,” he said. “José was the leak. The other guys must have caught on and taken a cut.”

  “I know what they did with the money, I just don’t know how it actually worked.”

  “Pretty well, obviously. I didn’t even get a whiff of it when I was in the unit.”

  “I’m guessing they were afraid you’d catch on, so that’s why they set you up for the Peña shooting.”

  “Sons of bitches.”

  “How did a raid work? Who would have had knowledge of it?”

  “Depended on who got a tip or who had the intel.”

  “Then what?”

  “We’d type out a probable-cause document to get the no-knock warrants from the judge.”

  “Was it always the same judge?” I asked, excited.

  “No. It was whoever was up in rotation.”

  “So they had to coordinate things themselves. Maybe one of them shared that with a wife or a girlfriend.”

  “I wouldn’t,” he said. “Marriages go south.”

  “Well, they had to know something. They’re all living like queens, even the divorced ones. I’m going to see if I can get Ina Lopez to talk to me.”

  “Good luck. If I remember correctly, she’s shy and not comfortable with strangers.”

  “All I need is one person to tell the truth and the whole scheme falls apart.”

  “And you put a target on your back. Maybe now would be a good time for you to step back. Finley, I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “That makes two of us. Why don’t you come with me? But stay in the car. I doubt she’ll speak freely with the man accused of killing the father of her children.”

  “What time?”

  “Give me a few hours. Say, two thirty. Meet me here at the office.”

  “Really?”

  “You did?”

  “Well, it’s about freaking time,” Becky said before taking a sip of her iced tea.

  Jane looked positively giddy, while Liv wore an I-told-you-so smirk. The restaurant was hopping and we’d waited ten minutes for a table. Since I had no excuse for a prolonged absence from the office, and I was going out that afternoon, I had no choice but to stick to the one-hour rule overseen by Maudlin Margaret. She ate her lunch in the firm’s lunchroom and proudly exclaimed to one and all that she took a mere fifteen minutes to eat.

  You pay me for lunch, I’m taking lunch.

  “Was it amazing?” Liv asked.

  “No details,” I answered with a straight face. Then added, “It was better than amazing.”

  “Your place or his?” Jane asked.

  “Mine, why?”

  “If you do it at his place, you can check his drawers and stuff while he’s in the shower.”

  “Jane Spencer! When d
id you get so sneaky?”

  “When I woke up next to a dead guy. Now I’m not taking any guy back to my place unless I’ve run a full background check on him.”

  Becky took a bite of her burger, then said, “I don’t think I remember what sex is like.”

  I smiled. “That’s because you work eighty hours a week.”

  “No,” she countered. “It’s because the only people more loathed than lawyers are tow truck drivers and I haven’t met one of those yet.”

  “I’m telling you,” Liv added. “Go for the young guys. They always want sex.”

  “Your young guy still lives at home,” I said pointedly.

  “He’s an artist. He’s trying to get established.”

  Becky scoffed. “He’s sold one painting and that was to you.”

  As usual, Liv was drawing the attention of every man who entered the place. Her unusual beauty had that effect on the opposite sex. It also had a downside. Whenever the four of us went out, it was Liv who was never asked to dance. I guess men were afraid of being shot down by the prettiest girl in the room.

  “I heard you went to prison,” Becky said.

  “For an interview,” I clarified. Then I shared what I knew to date.

  “Shouldn’t Tony be doing this legwork?” Liv asked.

  “He’s got a client with immediate needs. A thirteen-year-old he’s trying to keep out of adult court.”

  “The kid who stabbed his father to death?” Jane asked.

  I nodded. “But it isn’t that simple.”

  “It is for the dead guy,” Becky said.

  “I’m waiting for school records, medical records, and records from Child Protective Services. Tony and a shrink are with him now.”

  “This is depressing,” Liv said. “Let’s get back to Finley and Liam. Where is this going?”

  I shrugged. “I wish I knew.”

  “The Ashley factor?” Jane asked.

  I shook my head. “No. He explained all that to me.”

  “Do tell,” Liv urged.

  I shook my head again. “Not for public consumption. I don’t think Liam would appreciate my broadcasting his past. He’s kind of secretive that way.”

  “But he told you,” Becky pointed out. “That implies trust.”

  “He wants me to meet his dog,” I said with a definite lack of enthusiasm. “I guess that’s a step in the right direction.”

  “So you can get bitten on the butt again?” Jane teased.

  “My point exactly. It’s the Liam version of meeting the folks. Swears I’ll love the thing.” That would be a miracle. Fear trumps everything.

  “You might,” Liv suggested. “At least give it a try.”

  “The dog could be a deal breaker,” Jane said.

  “We don’t have a deal,” I told them.

  “What do you call a guy who’s living at your house and who you’re sleeping with?”

  “I don’t know. That’s the problem.” I checked my watch. “I’ve got to get back.”

  “A Margaret bed check?” Becky teased. As a firm attorney, the rules didn’t apply to her.

  “Yes. I wish she’d take a vacation. She’s got to have about a year’s worth saved up. I’ll see you guys later.” I stood and wadded my trash into its wrapper. “Oh, Jane, before I forget, I bought a couple of watch parts on eBay.”

  “Finley?” she warned.

  “Gotta go,” I said as I quickly left the restaurant.

  Once I was back at work, I made a copy of Liam’s signature from his DMV records and added the copy of the sign-out sheet I’d taken from the files then sent them by courier to the expert we used when we had to verify signatures on will or estate documents. He was good and he was quick. If Liam wasn’t on his way I would have walked them over to Darrell’s office myself; it was only four blocks away.

  Instead I handed it to Margaret. “This needs to go right away,” I told her.

  She took out her trusty pad. “What’s the name of the client?”

  “Liam McGarrity,” I told her.

  She met my answer with a pointed stare. “He’s one of Tony’s clients,” I said. “If you’ve got a problem, take it up with him.”

  She pursed her lips and wrote the name down as if she was signing her own death warrant.

  I saw Liam standing by my car, which I’d carefully parked next to Vain Dane’s Hummer. I still didn’t understand why he needed an urban assault vehicle in the flattest state in the union. I guessed it made him feel powerful.

  Briefcase and keys in hand, I left the building. Liam was smiling at me. “Hi,” he greeted me. “How was lunch with the girls?”

  “Interesting,” I said, not wanting to tell him the sordid details.

  “You have Ina’s address?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Let’s take my car. Fewer toxic fumes.” I went to hand him my keys but dropped them. In unison we bent to pick them up, knocking heads in the process. It must have been a hard knock because I heard a buzzing sound whoosh by my ear. Then my brain processed the sound of breaking glass.

  Liam reacted, tackling me and shoving me between the two cars, shielding me with his body. The air rushed from my lungs. I heard something ping off the pavement and Liam half-rolled off me and cursed.

  “I don’t suppose you own a gun?” he asked.

  “Why would I own a gun?”

  “Because someone is shooting at us.”

  It’s always good to know you’re needed but even better to know you’re wanted.

  eighteen

  In what felt like an eternity but was probably only a matter of minutes, several squad cars arrived on the scene. It was only then that Liam and I stood up, still shielded for the most part by my car.

  I’d started to brush my hair off my face when I felt a sharp pain in my palm. I looked down and saw a ragged piece of glass sticking out from where blood trickled from the wound. I looked at Liam, hardly able to hear over the pounding of my heart and the very real sensation of wanting to wet myself. I was shaking as he took my hand. “It’s not deep,” he assured me.

  His dark hair glistened from the shower of glass and I could hear the siren of an ambulance coming closer. I glanced over at my office building and noticed several faces pressed up against the windows.

  “Ma’am?”

  I turned toward the sound of the voice. It was a deputy, around my age, and he was securing his gun back in the holster on his hip. “What?”

  “Are you hurt?”

  I looked at my hand, then back at him. “Not really.”

  “Sir?” he asked Liam.

  He shook his head. “But I think she might be going into shock.”

  He wrapped his arms around me. I was shaking like a leaf. “What just happened?” I asked.

  “Someone shot at us.”

  “Which one of us?” I said, my voice trembling.

  “Don’t worry about that now,” he said as a gloved paramedic appeared at my side.

  “Let’s go to the ambulance,” he said.

  First they wrapped me in a blanket and then they put an oxygen mask over my face. Only then did they inspect the cut on my palm. With relative ease and a very long pair of tweezers, they removed the thick piece of glass and assessed my wound. Someone else was taking my vitals. I only knew that because of the pinch on my arm as the blood pressure cuff inflated. My stomach was doing flip-flops when Becky appeared at the opened ambulance doors.

  “Is she okay?” Becky asked the paramedic.

  I was lightheaded and felt as if I couldn’t gulp in enough air to sustain life.

  “BP is 107 over 45,” one paramedic said to the other.

  “Ma’am. We’re going to take you to the hospital as a precaution. Do you understand?”

  I nodded.

  “I’ll follow you,” Liam said

  I spent an hour in the emergency room. Most of it with a CNA gently combing glass out of my hair. My clothes were smudged with dirt and I had road rash on one knee. Liam stayed at my side whil
e a deputy stood watch at the edge of the curtain. The wound to my left hand was shallow and required nothing more than a butterfly bandage. I was finally able to breathe again but the shaking still hadn’t abated.

  “Your color is coming back,” Liam said as soon as we were alone.

  “Getting shot at isn’t an everyday occurrence for me.”

  “That’s a good thing,” he said as he gently kissed my wounded palm. “The cops want to talk to us.”

  “I can’t tell them anything.”

  The curtain yanked open and Tony entered the small cubicle. “Are you both okay?” he asked in a rush of breath.

  I nodded while Liam answered, “She’s shaken up pretty bad.”

  “I’m staying while you give your statements.”

  “I have nothing to state,” I reiterated.

  “Deputy?” Tony called. And a uniformed cop stepped inside.

  Tony said, “Tell the detectives Miss Tanner and Mr. McGarrity are available.”

  The officer spoke into the radio clipped to his shoulder.

  Much to my displeasure, Metcalf and Wells arrived a few minutes later. Wells looked sympathetic, while Metcalf was his usual churlish self.

  “We’d like to interview them separately,” Metcalf said.

  “Then you’ll have to do it one at a time,” Tony said. “I represent Mr. McGarrity, and Miss Tanner is my employee, so I need to be sure you don’t ask her for privileged information.”

  Metcalf sighed. “Fine. Miss Tanner, you go first. Can you describe what happened in the parking lot?”

  “I dropped my keys. I went to pick them up and then I heard a whoosh and Liam pushed me to the ground. We were showered with glass. That kinda all happened at one time. Then I heard a ping. Then nothing.”

  “So you didn’t see the shooter or where the shots came from?”

  I shook my head. “I didn’t even know they were shots. It all happened too fast.”

  “So you don’t know whether the person was shooting at you or Mr. McGarrity?”