by Webb Hubbell
“My advice—and, yes, I know you haven’t asked for it—is to let this thing with Eric run its course. See where it goes. Allow yourself to be vulnerable.” I cleared my throat a bit before continuing. “But enough with the personal stuff. I’m off to see Liz. Anything you want me to tell her?”
“She needs to take the Bullock deal. Civil forfeiture laws are the hardest part of being a defense attorney these days. The government can seize everything the accused owns, and even if the verdict’s ‘not guilty,’ they don’t give it back. I still don’t get why Mr. Reasonable has offered to let Liz keep her home, with immunity no less. It doesn’t make sense—nothing in this case does—but we can’t look a gift horse in the mouth. The cars may have some strong sentimental value, but it’s hard to argue about the rest. His lab equipment can’t be worth much. If his research is about marijuana, we don’t have a chance in hell of convincing anyone that it isn’t part of an illegal activity.
“I say get her permission to accept it, and use it as leverage. I’ll tell Bullock we have a deal subject to meeting with Doug. Maybe that will break things loose.”
I’d been thinking along the same lines. “You’re right; let’s go with it. I’ll explain it to Liz. I smell a skunk, but it’s probably just Dub’s . . . well, his aftershave.”
Micki laughed. “You’re starting to think like a criminal lawyer.”
She walked me to the door, where Clovis was waiting to drive me to the hotel.
Liz and Moira were perched on barstools, Liz sipping on a large martini. She’d pulled her hair back loosely and was dressed casually in jeans and a crisp, white shirt.
“Any news? Is Doug safe?” Liz asked nervously.
No games this time, not even a hello. The bar was still mostly empty, so I pulled up a stool and ordered a glass of wine.
“Well, we know he’s in a federal facility, and they’re pretty good about protecting their charges. If he’s in Oklahoma City, at worst he’ll be in a cell with one other guy. They’ll share a bunk bed, toilet, and a desk. During the daytime he’ll be allowed to go out into a big central area with the other inmates. He’ll have three passable meals a day, and as long as he doesn’t get into an argument, he’s safe—much more so than if he was in a county jail. The worst part is the boredom.” Not exactly what my friend had told me about Oklahoma City, but there was no sense in worrying Liz at this point.
“Sounds pretty miserable,” Liz said into her drink, absently poking the olive with a straw.
“It is, but he’s safe, and that’s the important thing.”
Moira jumped in. “Liz, he’ll be okay. If he has to be locked up, a federal facility really is a whole lot better than the county jail.” Her soothing tones were out of keeping with her blunt appearance.
Time to change the subject. “So, Liz, you still have family in Memphis?”
Her face lit up slightly, and she gave me a hint of a smile. “Dad and my stepmother are still alive and kickin’. My stepmother plays a lot of mah-jongg with her friends and takes classes at the Culinary School—lucky Dad! He still goes to the Exchange every day, although what he does I haven’t a clue.”
Moira asked, “Does your dad know anything about what’s going on here?”
“I’m sure they’ve read the papers. I feel bad–he’s tried to call a couple of times. That’s why I need to go back—they need to hear what’s happening from me, in person. Dad will try to convince me to move back, but no way. Can you imagine what Memphis would be like? I mean, a woman whose husband is in prison for selling dope? Then again, it might be fun.” Liz laughed and drained her glass. She seemed more at ease—I hoped it wasn’t just the gin.
I hadn’t really taken to Liz when I met her in DC. Having grown up in an old area of Memphis, I had a built-in prejudice about people from Germantown whose daddies were “in cotton,” but she’d grown on me quite a bit the last couple of days.
She turned to Moira. “You’re driving, right?”
Moira nodded.
“Good. I’m going to have another martini, then let’s order something to eat. Jack’s about to give me some bad news, and I want to hear it on a full stomach with something to ease the pain.”
Nobody could say she wasn’t perceptive. I didn’t realize I telegraphed my blows. We talked idly about life in Little Rock until the waiter finally brought her another martini accompanied by a trio of Texas Caviar, hummus, and deviled eggs as well as a dish of spicy Pimento cheese with crackers and flatbread.
“My father, Conner Flowers, is likely to call you after I tell him what really happened. He’ll mean well. He and Doug always got along, although he still thinks I should have married Bud Potter, the full-back I dated in high school. Good thing I didn’t. Bud came out of the closet about ten years ago. Dad still refuses to believe it.”
“Of course I’ll talk to him, Liz. I look forward to it. But you were right; we need to talk about something else that’s come up.”
“Here it comes. Shoot.”
“As you know, an assistant U.S. attorney who works with Dub came by after you left. He suggested that, although they fully intend to prosecute Doug, they’re willing to negotiate a deal regarding the asset forfeiture. They’re willing to let you keep your house and furnishings and, better yet, have agreed not to bring any charges against you.”
“Well, that wasn’t so bad. What do I have to do? Give that weasel Blanchard a blow job?”
I wanted to hug her, but I pretended shock.
“Sorry, Jack. I forget how old-fashioned you are. Seriously, why wouldn’t I take that deal?” She smiled. “I’m not ruling out the blow job if that’s what that oily bastard wants. I’d just have to have a few more of these.” She pointed to the martini and laughed loud enough that heads turned.
I shook my head. “Nothing like that. Actually, all they want are Doug’s cars, his lab, and his research. We might have an argument over the cars unless they have pictures of Doug dealing out of the Healy or carrying plants in the pick-up. But if he did use the marijuana in his research, it’s hard to argue it’s not part of the illegal operation. It’s not like it has any value. He won’t be able to continue his work even if we can get him a plea deal.”
Her face softened as she reflected. “I bought Doug that Healy after he won the ‘DeWitt.’ I think he was more excited about the car than being named Outstanding Chemist in North America. He’ll be heartbroken, but I’ll buy him another one. Or would the government maybe sell it back to me? The pick-up isn’t worth a thousand bucks, but he loved driving it to class and football games. What is it with men and pick-ups? They’re uncomfortable as hell.”
“Well, they’re . . . well, honestly I don’t know. But I do know that if they’ll be content with a couple of clunkers and his research, we can’t complain. Maybe Dub wants to look magnanimous, put away the bad guy without any appearance of overstepping.”
She gave me a withering look.
I continued. “Sorry, but maybe that’s what he wants the public to think. I don’t trust Dub any farther than I can throw him, but we can’t afford to let cynicism get in the way. Keeping you free of any criminal charges is a huge deal. As often as not, prosecutors indict the wife for the sole purpose of getting the accused husband to plead. Just think about it—we don’t have to decide tonight.”
Moira reminded us it was time to get Liz to the airport, and I invited her to join Clovis and me when she returned.
I walked them out of the bar and said to Liz, “I promise I’ll be back to meet with Doug just as soon as they let me. I’ll tell him about the deal they’ve offered, and if he’s all right with it, we’ll talk again.”
She hesitated. “If Doug says ‘yes,’ go ahead. You don’t need to ask me again. But, let’s see what he thinks. The house has no value if Doug isn’t there. The house, the furnishings, what happens to me—I’d swap it all for Doug.”
On first meeting Liz, I wouldn’t have figured loyalty to be one of her major characteristics. I usually trus
ted my first impressions, but in this case, I was happy to revise my opinion.
“Jack, talk to Doug, tell him I love him, and no matter what, don’t let him compromise to protect me. If the government is up to no good, he’ll know why. You don’t know him like I do. He’s much smarter and tougher than those bastards think he is, and the two of you make one formidable team. He told me things would get rough, but I didn’t want to hear about it, didn’t want to know. Well, my head’s out of the sand now. I didn’t marry him for the short haul; so if keeping him means losing a few sticks of furniture, so be it. No deals, Jack, without you talking to him. That’s my bottom line. Got it?”
“Got it.” I gave her a grin, a kiss on the cheek, and said, “He’s got one hell of a partner. You be careful.”
19
IT FELT GOOD to settle into my room at the Armitage and relax. Pondering the different faces of Liz, I had just opened the bottle of wine in the ice bucket when Clovis opened the door. He always had a key to my room, and this time, had no reason to knock.
“I’m not up for going out tonight. Get yourself something to drink. Let’s order room service and talk about what’s next.” I tossed my shoes in the corner, plopped onto the sofa, and stuck my feet up on the coffee table.
Clovis grabbed a beer from the mini fridge and ordered us both guacamole and bacon cheeseburgers with extra crispy fries. I like to think I enjoy fine food as much as the next man, but sometimes nothing beats a good cheeseburger. He took a pretty good pull, looked at the bottle and said, “I guess you’ll be busy trying to reach your client. So while Liz is out of town, I’ll ask Moira to find out what sort of research Dr. Stewart was doing at UALR. Maybe there’s another professor or a graduate student who knew what he was up to.”
“You seem to have a lot of faith in Moira.”
“Well, if she lives up to the recommendations from her superiors, she’ll fit right in. Her immediate boss in Detroit said she’s tough as they come, good instincts for her age. I’m happy to have Liz lie low in Memphis for a while—it’ll be good for her and good for us. It frees up Moira and, well, Liz makes me nervous.”
“I noticed.”
He didn’t take the bait, so I let it go. The cheeseburgers arrived and we wolfed them down. We caught up on Ben, the owner of the best barbecue restaurant in the South, talked about the NFL season, and how the Razorback baseball team seemed to have run out of luck again this year. Moira knocked on the door just as I was starting to yawn. She had changed out of her blue suit into a sweater and jeans. She glanced at our almost empty plates, and I offered to order her dinner.
“No, that’s okay. I got a bite on the way back from the airport.”
She smiled at Clovis. “Am I off duty, too?” He nodded, and I poured her a glass of Cabernet. She reached into the hobo bag hanging from her shoulder and handed her Glock to Clovis. She caught the look on my face.
“I have a rule. If I have a drink, I don’t carry. And it’s not often I get to have drinks with two handsome men, even if we are talking shop.”
“Sounds like a good rule to me.”
She’d let her hair down and put on a little make-up—I found myself looking at her curiously as Clovis took the gun and stowed it in his briefcase. The moment passed in a flash and we were back to business.
“We’ve got to get a handle on Dub’s claim that Doug was selling to kids. If it’s true, his distributor has to be local. Right? If you two can’t learn anything on campus, dig deeper. If Doug is as evil as they say, he has to have made enemies, stuck his nose in somebody’s business. Or maybe somebody’s looking for a new supplier.”
Clovis looked thoughtful. “Dub’s brought in a slew of DEA agents. Agents usually don’t talk out of school, but I bet they all hang out at a bar somewhere, and where there’s booze, there’s gonna be talk. I’ve got some guys who can get a story out of a rock. Lawyers are no different. They love to talk about themselves—you just got to get ‘em going. Give us a few days, and we’ll know if Dr. Stewart’s the only target or if there’s more to Dub’s task force than the garden in the Stewart’s back yard. It’s not like we’re dealing with a thousand acres in a national park.”
I thought about it for a minute, picking at the last few fries on my plate.
“If Doug was sneaking marijuana onto the campus to perform experiments, somebody had to have known. Moira, talk to his students, and find out if he held seminars. Seminar students get pretty close to their professor. Maybe someone helped unload the stuff.”
I handed Clovis a list of Angie’s colleagues at NIH who had worked with Doug, asking him to work with Maggie to contact them. I made a mental note to ask my daughter if she and Angie had ever talked about Doug. Moira said she had a friend in Ann Arbor who could ask around. Ideas were coming quick now.
“Clovis, tell me a little bit about this Novak guy and his connection with Debbie. Could he have any connection to Doug? Is his operation something we need to worry about?”
“Novak is trash. He’s evil, ruthless, and as immoral as they come. I hope you never meet him. He looks like what you might expect–big, burly, lots of bling around his neck, and bad teeth. Rumor has it he was an Olympic wrestler who ended up as a bodyguard for a Russian mobster in Miami. When his benefactor met an untimely death, Novak somehow landed in Arkansas. Who knows how or why? He pays a percentage to Miami, but otherwise he runs his own organization throughout the Middle South and Southwest. Why it’s based here is anybody’s guess. He’s got people as far east as Atlanta and as far west as Amarillo. Rumor has it that something recently happened to his brother, and now he’s trying to go legit. But I’m not buying.
“Your friend Sam can fill you in on his local connections—they’re surprisingly good. Sam’s been able to limit his activities a bit, but he’s pretty much untouchable. His major sources of income are gambling and prostitution—he has an unlimited pipeline of girls coming in from Eastern Europe. His recruiters promise them work, husbands, and the American dream. When they get here, he makes sure they end up totally dependent on drugs and on him. He doesn’t care how old they are or where they end up— they’re just business to him. Makes the Godfather look like a fairy godmother.
“So, yeah, you should be worried about Novak. But I don’t see any connection with the professor. Novak doesn’t normally deal in marijuana except as an accommodation. If it were heroin, prescription drugs, or white powder, maybe—but not weed. Novak makes really good money supplying heroin to his patrons when they run out of painkillers. Any kid on a corner can get weed. It’s not worth the risk to Novak, not enough profit.”
Moira followed, “Novak will order a kill at the drop of a hat. He has a rep as far north as Detroit. You don’t need to cross him, Jack.”
TUESDAY MORNING
April 22, 2014
20
WHEN I STEPPED out of the cab at Hodges Air Center early the next morning, Walter’s plane was gassed up and ready to go. Clovis didn’t approve of my transportation choice. He wanted one of his men to drive me to the airport—didn’t like taking chances, but I insisted. No sense having one of his men get up that early. I dozed to the hum of the engines during the flight, and woke a couple of hours later as we landed in DC.
A twenty-minute Metro ride landed me in my office, drinking good coffee and going through my e-mails. Maggie walked in carrying a cup of tea, and I was about to fill her in on my week when Rose knocked abruptly.
“Clovis Jones is on line one. He said I should interrupt you.” Rose looked worried.
“Clovis, what’s up? I’ve got Maggie on speaker.”
“Are you both sitting down? I mean it—I want you to sit down.” Maggie carefully put her cup on the corner of my desk. We both knew this couldn’t be good. “Micki’s disappeared–we’re not sure, but we think she may have been kidnapped.”
Maggie put her hands to her mouth in shock. I heard myself yelling at Clovis, demanding answers, demanding action. He waited until I ran out of steam.
&n
bsp; “Jack, you need to calm down. You need to listen. Here’s what we know. Micki spent last night at Eric’s. I had Charlie Yates, one of Paul’s guys, watching the townhouse, figured Micki would never know. When Charlie didn’t call in this morning, Paul went to Eric’s place and found Charlie lying in the bushes, barely alive. Paul rushed into the house—the porch door was open. The place was a mess, no sign of either Micki or Eric.”
“Okay. I’m calm now.” Deep breaths. “When did all this happen?”
“Had to have been right after your plane took off. We found Eric working his ER shift at the hospital. He said Micki was in the shower when he left. He’s being questioned by the police, but I believe him.”
Clovis didn’t sound all that sure about anything. “Charlie’s going to make it, but we can’t speak with him yet. There’s no note. Looks like they grabbed her the moment Eric left. The shower was still on.”
“Has anyone checked on Debbie? Could this be Novak’s work? Hasn’t he always said he’d get revenge?”
“Debbie and Mongo are at the office under guard. Sam definitely thinks it was Novak, and I don’t have any reason to think it wasn’t.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Jack, there’s nothing you can do here. The police and Sam are all over this—my people are working the trail, too. The FBI has been notified. We’ll find her. I’ll keep you updated.”
I couldn’t think. “Clovis, I want Debbie guarded twenty-four hours. No exceptions. Contact whoever is protecting Liz: make sure she’s okay—don’t let them leave her for a minute. I want to talk to Sam. Tell him to call. No matter what it takes, you have to find Micki. Got it?”
“Got it. Keep your phone by your side. Looks like it’ll be a long day.”
