“It’s a Mexican diner, sweetheart. If you want hotdogs and bacon, go around the corner to a place called Dogs and Hots. You’ll only find good Mexican food here.”
“Let’s start with coffee before we make this a date.”
“Smooth, and handsome.” She grins. “I like you. You’ve already added a little bit of sunshine to my day.”
She pours the drip coffee into a mostly white mug without taking her eyes off his.
“Tell me…” He reads the nametag on the lady’s large chest. “Louise, what do you know about Carlos López?”
“Carlos? Why are you asking about Carlos?”
“I understand he comes here a lot.”
“That might be correct, but you didn’t answer my question.”
“Do you spend a lot of time here, Louise?”
“Work is my life, mister. I spend all my time here. This is where people respect me, and I feel comfortable. Out those doors, I’m just another overweight Mexican woman. In here, I’m the woman everyone wants to talk to. I’m the center of a community in here. This is where I’m somebody.”
“You’ve worked here for a long time?”
“Years and years. This is all I know. I wouldn’t know how to spend my time out of work. And I don’t like spending time in my own head. Too many crazy thoughts up there. I’m always being told to take holidays, but I’m not going to leave this place. It defines who I am.”
“If you spend a lot of time here, then you would know Carlos López.”
“But like I said, mister, you haven’t answered my question.”
Bill draws a long sip of his lukewarm coffee, avoiding the temptation to spit it back out. He drums his fingers gently on the counter, looks around to check that nobody is listening to their conversation, and then looks Louise straight in the eyes. “I’m his attorney, and he’s in some trouble.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” She smiles. “If you’re a friend of Carlos, then you’re a friend of ours. Yeah, we all know Carlos. Known him for years. He comes in here a few times every week. Usually orders the beef taco. He’s a good man. A very good man. He’s done a lot – helped people with drug problems. He works down at the rehab center, and he helped my cousin kick the drugs. Carlos is a very good man. Almost a saint.”
“Is he ever involved in trouble?”
“Carlos?” She ponders. “No, Carlos isn’t trouble. Never.”
“But?”
“But the people he spends time with are trouble.”
“Like who?”
Louise leans forward on the counter, squeezing her breasts together. It catches Bill’s eye, and she feels happy about that.
“You didn’t hear this from me.” Her voice is low. “Juan Lewis. Roberto Miles. Now both those men are trouble. Lewis especially. He looks mighty fine, dresses really well, but he’s trouble. Always has been. He has a great range of the best suits, but the only way he can afford them is to break the law. He’s the brains behind a lot of the crime that happens around here – money laundering, drugs, illegal gambling… but you didn’t hear any of this information from me.”
“Of course not, Louise.”
He looks into the eyes of the woman and sees a lost soul. Her shoulders are tight, her eyes have a tinge of yellow from too much vodka every night, and her hands shake a little as she holds the coffee server. She’s searching for something, but she’s looking for it externally, blaming others for her pain, when the source of all her hurt is inside her.
“Do you have a husband, Louise?” Bill asks, trying to charm his way to get what he wants.
“No, sir.”
“I find that surprising.” He smiles. “You have very beautiful eyes.”
“Mister, flattery will get you everywhere.”
“Then tell me how often you see Lewis and Carlos in here together.”
“Every week. They’re always here talking about something. Talking, talking, talking. I don’t listen to their conversations, but they come every week. They know all of the people around these parts.”
“How about on September 12? Were they here that day?”
“How would I know? That was a month ago, and I’m not a superwoman. I don’t have a super memory. Mister, I struggle to remember what color bra I put on in the mornings.”
“You certainly present yourself as a superwoman, Louise. I’m sure a lot of people here actually believe that you are.” Bill grins with charm.
“Looks can be deceiving.”
“Yes, they can. But if you can’t remember that day, then maybe there is surveillance footage of that time?”
“You’re smooth, Mister Attorney.” She grins. “Let me check with the boss.”
The voluptuous waitress disappears out the back of the diner, and Bill overhears a loud shouting argument between Louise and her boss. She returns with a calm smile on her face.
“My boss is more than happy for you to have a look at the footage… if, of course, you leave a large tip for the service.”
Smoothly, Bill places a hundred-dollar bill next to his cold coffee.
“That should cover it.” She smiles again. “Follow me this way.”
The office at the back of the diner is exactly what he expected – small, confined, piles of old paperwork about to topple over. Kate Spencer would have a heart attack if she had to work in this office. The smell of cigarette smoke fills the air, drowning out the smell of Mexican spices cooking only a few feet away.
The mustached older man sitting behind a cramped desk doesn’t greet Bill as he enters. He doesn’t even stop staring at the computer in front of him.
“September 12?” the man questions.
“Yes.”
“Here it is.” The man turns the computer screen to face Bill without a hint of emotion.
Bill studies the footage, scrolling through it at a reasonable pace, but not fast enough to miss anything important. The tape starts at ten in the morning and finishes at ten at night. With the advantage of technology, he’s able to scroll through the twelve hours of footage in under a few minutes.
“This is the whole day?” Bill asks when the video finishes.
“Yes.”
“I need a copy of this.” Bill places another hundred on the table in front of the stern man.
The boss nods and then shouts loudly, “Give me a USB, Louise.”
Louise reappears – having gotten used to her boss’ bellows from the back room. She finds a USB drive in the drawers, and the man places the drive in the computer, punches his keyboard aggressively, and then removes it to hand to Bill.
“Has anyone else asked about the footage from that day?”
“No.” The old man shakes his head.
“Can you delete the file from your computer? The whole week has to go missing.”
The man gestures to the hundred-dollar bill sitting on the table.
“Of course.” Bill removes another hundred from his wallet. Sometimes, information can cost a lot.
After squinting at the screen, and running the mouse over a number of files, the man responds, “It’s done. That whole week is deleted. You have the only copy.”
“Good.” Placing the USB in his jacket pocket, Bill offers Louise a nod, then walks tall out of the diner, leaving his nauseating coffee behind. It’s not often he spends three hundred dollars in a small diner, but he hopes this information will be more fulfilling than a large burrito.
As soon as he steps onto the sidewalk, he calls his secretary. “Kate, I need Carlos in my office. Now.”
Chapter 7
Carlos fidgets with his hands, rubbing his thumbs together while waiting for the arrival of his lawyer. He has a lot to hide, and he knew that the lawyer would uncover secrets from his past.
He just isn’t sure which one.
“You weren’t telling me the truth, Carlos.” Bill is blunt as he storms into the office. “And I don’t like lies. They annoy me. I’m your lawyer, Carlos. Your lifeline to freedom. You really don’t want to annoy
me.”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about?” His answer his honest, but only because he has too many lies to hold back.
“Tell me where you were when they raided your apartment on September 12.”
With an aggressive overtone, Bill’s briefcase slaps down onto the office table, and he huffs into a chair, leaning forward, resting his thick arms on the desk.
“I was at the El Mejor diner. I was having lunch with Juan Lewis when they raided my apartment. We had the beef taco and a few coffees. That’s what I told the police when they arrested me, and that’s what I’m telling you.”
“How about you tell me the truth instead.”
“What do you mean?”
“If this is going to work then you and I are going to have to be honest with one another. I have seen the security footage of the diner for that day and neither you, nor Lewis, were in the diner at the time, or at any time during that day. Where were you?”
“The diner has security footage?” Carlos is surprised. “That place has nothing worth protecting. Why would they have security footage?”
“Lucky for us, nobody else, including the prosecution, has checked if the diner has security footage. They seem to think that it’s not important where you were at the time of the raid. They haven’t checked your alibi. They’re only concerned with the fact that they found the drugs in your apartment.”
“If they don’t think it’s important, then why do you think it’s important?”
“The truth is important to me, Carlos. To proceed with a case, I need to have a full picture of what happened. I need to know every single little piece of that picture, and your whereabouts is a very important part of that. This case is already against us; the last thing we need in court is a surprise. I need to cover all the bases and have answers to everything that’s coming our way. No more surprises.”
“Look, I can’t remember where I was at the time.”
“Is it best that I speak to Lewis about this?”
Carlos pauses and looks to make sure the door is shut behind him. “We’re still covered by the attorney-client agreement, aren’t we?”
Bill nods slowly, not taking his eyes off Carlos.
“Ok. Sure. Look, Lewis came to me and said that he needed an alibi for the day. I agreed that I would be his alibi for the day. He came to the apartment, and we both slipped out the side exit.”
“Then where were you for the day?”
“I was driving around.”
“Why?”
“I couldn’t be seen anywhere. I had to make sure that I wasn’t seen in person on any surveillance footage. So, I drove to the State Forest in a friend’s car, and just drove the roads for most of the day. I left my car near the apartment.”
“And Lewis?”
“I don’t know where he was. I dropped him off, and I picked him up four hours later. He went off to conduct a ‘business transaction’ and called me after lunch – told me that the time had passed and we could back go to my apartment. Problem was, when we came back, the police were crawling all over my apartment. Suddenly, he was as much my alibi as I was his.”
“Why did he need an alibi?”
“I didn’t ask. I never do.”
“This is a common occurrence?” Despite spending the last ten years within smelling distance of criminal activity, the world of drug runs and organized crime still surprises Bill.
“I’ve done it before, but it’s not common. He usually walks into my apartment, we have a coffee, and then we sneak out via the laundry window. Usually, we say that we were at my apartment all day. It’s never been tested before. But this time, we couldn’t say that we were at the apartment because it was filled with cops.”
“Why didn’t you stay at the apartment? Why did you have to leave?”
“I was the driver. We always use a friend’s car that has dark tinted windows. I had to drop Lewis off and pick him up.”
“Where did you drop him off?”
“I dropped him off at a Taco Bell in Downtown, and picked him up there four hours later.”
“Four hours is a long time to spend at Taco Bell. So tell me where he really went.”
“I never know why he needs an alibi, and I never ask. I don’t want to know. All I’m doing is helping out my cousin, which is my family duty. We look after each other. He helps me out with cash, and I help him out as long as I’m not doing anything criminal.”
“With cash?”
Carlos shrugs, uncomfortable with the notion. “I don’t have a paying job. All my time is spent at the rehab center. Lewis… he supports me when I need it. I have savings that I invested, but for day-to-day things, he helps me out.”
“What about your lawyer? Is he paying for that too?”
“No.” Carlos coughs loudly. “My savings are paying your wage.”
Bill pauses, letting the tension in the room dissipate. He opens his briefcase, removes his notes, and reviews them before he continues. “What do you think Lewis was doing during the time you dropped him off?”
“I don’t think about it. All I was doing was helping a family member.”
“So when did you make the decision to say that you were at the diner?”
“When we drove back to my apartment. We could see all the cop cars out front. We couldn’t say that we were in the apartment; we had to use another destination. That’s why we choose the diner. We’re always there, and nobody would remember which day was which. We didn’t think they would have security footage.”
Bill scribbles more notes, trying to piece together the picture of September 12. He has no doubt that Carlos is telling the truth, but he’s no closer to winning the case that threatens the freedom of a reformed drug addict.
“It must hurt you, Carlos. You spend your time working in drug rehabilitation, helping people recover, and your cousin is the person putting people in there. He’s the one that’s dealing drugs, and you have to clean up his mess. That must hurt you on some level.”
“Personal choice causes addiction. Loneliness. Emptiness. Being hollow causes addiction. Not Lewis. Just because the drugs are there doesn’t mean that someone has to take it. You don’t blame the shopkeepers for alcoholism, just like you don’t blame the drug dealers for the addiction. It’s a personal decision.”
“And yet, you have enormous guilt around your involvement in the drug trade.”
Carlos fumbles his hand through his pocket, reaching for more cigarettes. “I guess I try to justify what Lewis does. I know the truth, but if the police can’t stop him, how am I supposed to? I love the man, but he deals in death.”
Bill flicks open a paper file, his eyes searching through the notes. He much prefers his handwritten notes over the computer any day. Better for his eyes.
“Lewis’ rap sheet is clean. He has never been charged with any criminal offense and has never even been taken in by the police. He’s either very good, very smart, or very lucky.”
“He’s all three. His father was a dealer and taught him everything he knew. He has always been well-connected, even before he met Hardgrave.”
“Where does he get the drugs?”
Carlos pauses, thinking about how much information he can divulge. “I…”
“I want the whole truth, Carlos.”
He nods. “The drugs are produced in a small lab in Mexico, smuggled over the border, and then run through the streets. Lewis and Roberto Miles run the operations, and they’re worth millions. Millions. They don’t get their hands dirty though. They’re at the top of the tree, and they avoid dealing with anyone they don’t know.”
“And you? What’s your involvement in it? Where do you fit into the Lewis business puzzle?”
“I used to run the labs in Mexico. I would fly down once every two weeks to make sure everything was working fine. It was just a job to me, although I was well paid by Lewis. I saved enough money to get out of the game. Now, Lewis and I are just family, rather than business associates. I keep telling him to g
et out of the game while he’s ahead, but he likes the money. He has dreams of becoming big. Real big. I keep telling him that the bigger he gets, the bigger the target he builds on his back, but he doesn’t want to hear it. He thinks he’s invincible.”
“It appears he still is,” Bill says as he starts to write notes on his pad. “How deep was your involvement in the drug dealing?”
“I managed the labs that produced the gear.” Carlos nods. “I never stood on a street corner and dealt drugs. No. I had nothing to do with that side of things. I was only responsible for making sure the gear was good, and that the people in Mexico were playing nicely.”
“But you knew that the labs were producing drugs?”
“Of course.”
“Tell me how Lewis has made all his high-profile connections.”
“He was always just one of those people that knew people. Local people though. But it all started to get big when he began dating Judge Hardgrave’s daughter, Michelle. He hassled the judge a lot. He got a lot of information from the judge, just through extortion. I think he was using Michelle, in the end, to keep close to the judge. And because of Judge Hardgrave, he met with numerous high-ranking police officers and politicians.”
“Did he love her, or was he just using her?”
“He loved her. Deeply. She’s a troubled woman, with a long addiction to drugs, and she was estranged from her father for many years. Lewis reconnected them after they hadn’t talked for a long time. And Michelle, being a drug addict, would do anything for Lewis. So, he started setting up regular meetings between the two of them. A father’s love for his daughter can make a man do very strange things. I think the judge was just happy to have a chance with his daughter again and he would do anything to keep that connection. Of course, Judge Hardgrave was a wealthy man, and that meant that Michelle was going to inherit a lot of money.”
“So Lewis would have profited from Hardgrave’s death?”
“Through Michelle, yes.”
The pen hovers over the pad, stuck as the thoughts race through Bill’s head. “Carlos, I need you to think hard about your options here. The further we get into this case, the more Lewis seems to be involved. The more Lewis gets involved, the more this case is going to escalate. You’ve given the police a sworn statement of your whereabouts at the time of the raid, so we can’t change that. But it’s going to be a sticking point for the prosecution. I’m going to have to think long and hard about our options. But in the meantime, I need you to stay away from Lewis. Understood?”
Redeeming Justice_A Legal Thriller Page 4
