I reflected on the situation for a minute and then said, "Seems like they would have wanted to make us come to Tallahassee if they were trying to be difficult. That's a lot farther away than Lake Placid."
PJ replied, "My guess is that he wants to avoid us, but also doesn't want us wandering around his offices in Tallahassee. Lot more opportunity for something to leak out around the capital. Lot more people watching meeting schedules. Probably doesn't want someone asking why we are talking to the good senator about something from the past. Much easier to fly under the radar back in the district."
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
On the drive to Lake Placid we talked about our strategy with Senator Palmer. PJ told me that with my perspective as a prosecutor, she would rely on me to guide the discussion. I opened the notebook I had been carrying into most of our interviews and jotted down a few notes. I would need to adjust our strategy on the fly, but wanted to at least have an idea of a starting approach. I asked PJ, "What type of response do you expect from the senator? Any clue from talking to his staff?"
She shook her head and replied, "No, they were the typical noncommittal gatekeepers."
"He knows what we want to talk to him about though?"
"Oh, he knows all right. There wasn't going to be any meeting without specifics, but I guess that's reasonable."
We kicked around our thoughts as we drove and I made a few additional notes. As we were approaching Lake Placid I noticed smoke on the horizon south of us. I commented that it looked like a grass fire and PJ said that she heard on the news that a number of small grass fires had heralded the start of wildfire season in Central Florida.
Lake Placid, a community of probably two to three thousand people is nestled between several small inland lakes and reminded me of a hundred other rural Florida towns I'd driven through. Single story block and brick buildings painted in an assortment of pastel colors. Wide main streets with angle parking. The openness a contrast to the overbuilt cities and towns along the coasts.
We found the district office located in the center of a row of narrow block buildings with brick facades, each painted a different blue or green hue. A state seal and bold lettering on the front picture window identified it as the District Office of Senator Bradford Palmer. We parked in front and entered, finding ourselves in a small office suite about twenty-feet wide and maybe thirty-feet deep. The back portion was partitioned off into two separate offices, the doors to both of which stood open. A young woman dressed in a crisp white blouse and black slacks sitting at a small desk near the door we had entered seemed to be the only one there. A second desk and a round conference table occupied the remainder of the area.
The young woman who appeared to be about 18 years old looked up and asked, "May I help you?" as she discreetly placed a sandwich she had been eating in a desk drawer.
PJ replied, "Yes, I'm Patty Johnson. We have a 1:00 p.m. meeting with Senator Palmer."
The woman looked confused and then said, "Oh, I didn't expect the senator until closer to 5:00 p.m. There must have been a change of plans. I'm usually the last . . ." Her sentence trailed off momentarily and then she continued, "Please have a seat, I will check for you."
PJ smiled and said, "Thank you."
We sat down in two of the four straight back chairs that lined the front wall next to the door we had entered. I glanced around the office. Definitely low budget government furnishings, and well worn at that. I hadn't done any research on the political stature of the senator, but if the district office was any indication I wouldn't think he was too high on the food chain.
We could hear the young woman talking on the phone, but her voice was so low that we couldn't make out her words until we heard her say, "Well, what do you want me to tell them?" PJ and I looked at each other acknowledging that we were about to get another runaround.
She hung up the phone, stood as if steeling herself, and said "I'm sorry, but Senator Palmer has been unexpectedly detained. He probably won't arrive until close to 5:00 p.m. and I'm afraid he has a fund raiser shortly after that, so it is probably best if we reschedule."
PJ replied, "I was given this appointment one hour ago. What could have happened to cause such a delay in the past hour?" PJ's tone was less than cordial.
I stepped forward and said, "Miss, I'm sorry I didn't get your name."
She turned toward me and replied, "Kristi James, and I'm sorry, but I don't have any control over the senator's schedule."
I smiled my warmest smile and stepped in front of PJ. I love playing good cop to her bad cop. "Well Kristi, it is very important that we see the senator as soon as possible." I leaned in as if sharing a secret with her. "An attorney is going to file an appeal very soon that could include allegations that would prove incredibly embarrassing for the senator. We were hoping that we could avoid this by speaking with the senator and clearing some issues up. I'm afraid if we attempt to reschedule we may not be able to prevent the inclusion of this embarrassing information in the filings." I paused and let it sink in for little Kristi.
She gasped, "Oh, oh . . . we can't let that happen, but I don't know what I can do."
I picked up a small notepad and a pen from the top of her desk. "I'm jotting my cell phone number on this pad, Kristi. As soon as the senator arrives you call me. We'll stay close so we can be back in five minutes. I'm sure our meeting won't take long, he'll still make it to his fund raiser. Trust me, he will want to meet with us."
A wave of relief washed across her young face, "Oh, thank you so much. I really appreciate it and I'm certain the senator will as well."
I gave her a knowing nod and said, "No problem, Kristi. Talk to you soon." With that I stepped to the door and held it open for PJ.
As we walked to the car PJ said, "I will admit Jack, you're pretty smooth when you want to be."
"Well, I wouldn't call a high school age intern exactly a challenge."
We saw a small restaurant three doors from the senator's office and went in to have lunch and wile away some of our afternoon of waiting.
As we were getting back in the car after lunch, I took my cell phone out of my pocket and found it nearly dead. I muttered, "Damn phone won't hold a charge at all anymore."
PJ handed me her car charger and said, "If we see a decent sized phone store we'll stop. They should at least be able to tell you if it's the battery and if it can be replaced."
We had decided to take a driving tour of Lake Placid while we waited. We soon found that nearly every building with an open wall had a large colorful mural painted on it. The murals were everywhere and they were amazing. Single story, multi-story, intricate and colorful. A couple of times PJ parked the car and we sat there just admiring the art. At one point she stopped short and exclaimed, "The day is not wasted, look at this." We were parked in front of a brightly colored building announcing itself as the American Clown Museum and School. "Maybe that's what Cap's Place needs, a professionally trained clown."
"What, you no longer find me entertaining?"
The smile and the dimples again. "Oh, you're entertaining all right, just not that funny."
I feigned sadness and said, "Cut to the quick, just when I thought you were starting to like me."
Our wandering eventually took us to a small park on the shore of a lake interestingly named, Lake June in Winter. We parked looking out at the tranquil water sparsely dotted with colorful sailboats. The day was warm, but not overwhelming and we lowered the windows to allow the breeze to filter through the car.
PJ said wistfully, "This is a nice little town. I think I'll bring Angela up here sometime. I'll bet you can rent small sailboats for the day."
"Do you like to sail?"
"I do, although I haven't in years. My dad was quite the sailor. He taught me. We went often when I was a kid."
I said, "It's just like riding a bicycle, once you learn you have it with you your entire life."
PJ looked surprised and asked, "Do you know how to sail?"
"No,
but I know how to ride a bicycle and they're the same." I grinned and added, "As a matter of fact I do know how to sail, well did at one time, so based on my bicycle theory I believe I still do know how. There was a small lake near where I grew up and I even belonged to a sailing club for a couple of years. Nothing big, little Hobie Cats and stuff like that."
PJ smiled, "It was a Hobie Cat that my dad taught me on. He always said that if you could stay upright on the Cat you were well on your way to becoming a sailor."
I said, "If you decide to bring Angela up here sometime and want a First Mate, let me know, I'd love to sail with you two sometime."
I turned toward PJ and found her gazing at me warmly. An undeniable chemistry hung in the air despite the breeze. I gazed into her green eyes and felt a spark I hadn't felt in a very long time, if ever. It wasn't the sexual spark I'd often felt in her presence, it was something deeper, something I couldn't exactly pin down. I was faintly aware that PJ was leaning toward me and without conscious thought I started to lean toward her. Our heads were no more that a foot apart when the obnoxious trill of my phone broke the spell.
I snatched the phone off the dash, where I had laid it while it charged, and spat, "Hello."
A confused young voice said, "Hello, is this Mr. Nolan?"
I composed myself and replied, "Yes it is, is this Kristi?
"Yes sir, it is. I just spoke with Senator Palmer. He said he is about forty-five minutes away and would certainly like to meet with you and . . . ah, Ms. Johnson. Can you be here in forty-five minutes?"
I attempted to insert a smile into my voice, "We certainly can Kristi. And thank you for your assistance."
"Your welcome sir. See you in forty-five."
I turned to PJ, finding the chemistry of a few moments ago totally dissipated. I said, "Looks like the senator found some time for us. What do you know about him anyway?"
PJ reached into her satchel and withdrew a notepad. Turning pages she said, "Let's see here . . . he's in his second term and from the articles I found about him online I'd say he's posturing himself for a run at congress. Not a real big profile around Tallahassee from what I found. On three or four legislative committees, but nothing that sounded too influential to me."
I asked, "So, where's his base to go after a congressional seat?"
PJ shook her head and said, "Beats me. Doesn't come from money. Won his first term in a close election for the open seat and barely held off a challenger for his second term, so I don't know where he will find enough support to run for congress. It's just obvious from the potshots he's taking in the press at the incumbent congressman that he's posturing for a run."
"He's certainly not going to want any dust kicked up from some old case he prosecuted in the past. That wouldn't play well in his future plans."
PJ said, "I liked the tact you took with little Kristi, we're here to help the senator. Maybe if we approach him with that vein, we can get him to throw someone else under the bus?"
"You mean like our buddy Chief Davies?"
PJ shrugged. "You think?"
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
As we entered the office, Kristi looked up from her desk and smiled. An obvious smile of relief. I noticed that the top of her desk, that had been somewhat cluttered on our first visit, now held only her computer monitor, telephone, and a single legal-sized yellow pad. She said, "Hello again. The senator is available, let me show you to his office." She rose and indicated for us to follow her as she walked the few feet to the now closed doorway of the office on the left. She knocked gently and opened the door a crack, "Senator, Ms. Johnson and Mr. Nolan are here."
A raspy voice from inside, "Send them in, Kristi."
PJ and I entered the office and found two men. One seated behind a battle scared oak desk and the other seated in one of two matching straight backed chairs in front of the desk. The man behind the desk said, "That will be all William. I'll see you at the golf course in a bit." As William left us, his glance lingered on PJ much longer than was necessary.
The man behind the desk rose and thrust out his hand, "Bradford Palmer. Please have a seat." He was a short man and carried noticeable excess weight around his midsection, as if he had spent too much time on the fried chicken circuit. His thinning gray hair was worn in a classic comb over. Watery eyes indicated that he washed down his fried chicken with a fair amount of alcohol.
PJ and I each shook hands with the senator and sat down in the two chairs. PJ said, "We appreciate you seeing us, Senator. We know how busy you are, but we feel this is important and think you will also, when you have a chance to hear us out."
Leaning back in the swivel chair behind the desk he said, "Yes, yes, I am very busy, but I'm certainly interested in hearing what you have to say. Although, I don't know that I can help you." He cleared his throat and continued, "I understand this is about some last minute appeal of the Freeman Robinson conviction." After taking a sip from a coffee mug which I would have bet contained whiskey he added, "I can't say that I have much independent recollection of the case, it was nearly ten years ago, but I will certainly attempt to aid you in any way I can."
Damn, we hadn't even had the opportunity to run our scam about being here to help him and he'd already beaten us to the punch with his own bull shit. The last thing in the world he was going to do was attempt to help us show that the conviction of Freeman Robinson was flawed. His conviction of Freeman Robinson.
With the formal voice I had seldom used outside a courtroom I said, "Senator, we've read the trial transcript and the police reports. One thing we find interesting is that there is no mention of any other potential suspects. There never seemed to be even a contemplation of anyone else as a potential suspect. Given how socially active Jessica Bennett was, it seems that other boyfriends or people around town, would have at least been considered."
Palmer shifted his gaze from PJ to me and his face darkened. I let the silence hang in the air. "Well," glancing at the pad on his desk that no doubt had our names written on it, "Mr. Nolan, I don't know how many homicides you prosecuted," his tone was dripping with condescension, "but real life cases are not like television where they keep you chasing red herrings until the last five minutes when the real culprit is revealed."
Only the first minute of the fight and I have my first opportunity for a surprise body blow. "Actually, in all of the homicides I prosecuted, excepting of course the ones where one spouse kills another and then calls the police, any number of potential suspects were considered and eliminated before the responsible party was identified."
He rocked in his chair. "You are a prosecuting attorney?"
"I was, for a number of years." I offered no details and he was now afraid to ask.
He said, "You of all people, can certainly appreciate that just because there were no other suspects doesn't make the defendant any less guilty."
PJ leaned slightly forward in her chair giving notice that she was entering the fray. "Our investigation has already revealed that Chief Davies made no effort to verify Butch Bennett's alibi, so if an assaultive alcoholic step-father was not even considered a suspect, how many others were out there?"
He shot back, "Who says Daniel Bennett assaulted Jessica?"
PJ's retort, "Amanda Bennett says he assaulted her, and I am confident she will say he assaulted Jessica."
A faint smile crossed his lips as he said, "You're basing your theories on the statements of a mentally unbalanced woman. Goodness sakes," turning toward me, "I would think Mr. Nolan that you would know better than that."
Now it was my turn to smile. "Oh Senator, I don't think Amanda Bennett is unbalance at all. I think she is fully capable of recalling and telling what happened. It's interesting, post traumatic stress can impact various emotional and mental faculties, but it does not necessarily erase preexisting memories."
"You have spoken with her?"
PJ replied with a matter of fact tone, "We have, and she has clearly relayed that Butch Bennett was abusive of her. Not di
fficult to extrapolate that he was abusive of Jessica as well. That coupled with the fact that he had no alibi at the time of Jessica's disappearance would certainly put him on the top of my suspect list, if I was investigating. That would also explain why her car was found in such close proximity to the house. She came home, they fought, he killed her and disposed of the body in a nearby canal and moved the car to the location it was found to make it look like she had never been home."
Another sip from the coffee cup, this one much longer, followed by, "Amanda was home that night, she would have known if the murder happened under her own roof."
PJ glared at him as she shot back, "Maybe she does."
A dark frown clouded his face. "She said that?"
In an effort at misdirection I said, "Senator, let me explain exactly why we're here. We understand the situation you were in at the time of this crime. As prosecutor, you were the chief law enforcement officer in a community that was about to explode. A beautiful young woman had been killed and the social factions in town were all pointing at each other. The police come to you with a solid suspect. You listen to them and the evidence they have collected and on its face it sounds solid. Last person to be seen with Jessica, DNA found in the trunk of his car. Robinson had no alibi. His story about driving around the countryside to think after talking with her in town that night certainly wasn't an alibi. There was even discrepancy among witnesses about how close a relationship the two of them had, making his statements to the police about a love affair and sex in the trunk sound borderline fanciful. What are you going to do? Reject their theories and tell them to come back when they have eliminated everyone else?"
The strain in his face remained as he spoke slowly. "Yes, as you say, a great deal of pressure did exist in the community, but that didn't mean I didn't do my job with due diligence."
I said, "We're not saying that you didn't, but you know appellate attorneys, it's either prosecutorial misconduct or ineffective defense council, or both." I paused for a second shaking my head, "I would certainly argue that Robinson's defense was ineffective, but as you say, that doesn't make him innocent. What we do find troubling is the narrow focus of the police investigation." Palmer's bushy eyebrows knit together suddenly in almost a unibrow. I rushed ahead, "We don't think that was your fault, we think it was likely based on a combination of factors within the police department itself. Lack of experience, unwillingness to ask for assistance, maybe a bit of racial prejudice. In any case, nothing you were responsible for."
Driven Be Jack_A Jack Nolan Novel Page 20
