Driven Be Jack_A Jack Nolan Novel

by Robert Tarrant

  His face relaxed as he prepared to throw Chief Davies under the bus. Leaning back in his chair and shaking his head as if deep in thoughtful consideration he said, "Now that you mention it, I seem to remember having several discussions with Chief Davies about the breadth of his investigation, or should I say the lack of breadth of his investigation." It was obvious he was focusing on making Davies roadkill. "I suggested on more than one occasion early in the investigation, before Robinson was identified as a suspect, that he bring in outside agency assistance, but he rebuffed me each time with assurances that he was doing everything that could be done." He paused and then added, "Of course, in the end the jury agreed that the evidence was sufficient. We can't lose sight of that fact."

  I nodded and said, "Of course not, but that does bring us back to the quality of Robinson's defense council. While Robinson's statements to the police may have seemed implausible, I'm not certain that reasonable doubt couldn't have been raised by a truly competent defense."

  A hint of shame bloomed on his face, but was quickly masked. "Well, I guess old Carpus probably wasn't at the top of his game in those days. Had been a decent attorney once, but you're probably right, he wasn't as aggressive as some would have been. Of course it wasn't like people were lining up wanting to take the case. Court appointment certainly didn't pay much, especially not for the work necessary on a death penalty case. It wasn't like we had high powered criminal defense attorneys in Pineywoods who wanted the case just for it's publicity. Actually, just the opposite. Most local attorneys were afraid it would negatively impact the limited business that was available to them. People in the community were pretty upset about the death of Jessica Parry. Being identified as her killer's defender would not have done much to enhance business."

  I wanted to launch into an ethical debate about the roles and responsibilities of all participants in the criminal justice system, but knew that would not advance our cause. Instead I asked, "Tell me Senator, can you recall any discussions with Chief Davies about Butch Bennett, any potential for him to be a suspect? There is no mention in the reports of any investigation of Bennett, but I know that sometimes prosecutors and police have conversations regarding investigative strategies that are not in the reports."

  I opened the door and he rushed through. "Well, as a matter of fact, I do recall some discussion with Davies regarding Butch Bennett. Bennett had a reputation around town as a drinker and I had even heard rumors that he sometimes knocked his wife, Amanda, around when he got drunk. As you two are no doubt aware, in matters of this nature it is best to start closest to the victim and work your way out, so of course I would have discussed Butch Bennett with Davies. My recollection is that he assured me that Bennett had an alibi, that he was out of town working at the time of the murder." His watery eyes glared at PJ, "Now you say that Davies made no effort to verify the alibi. If that's the case, it's contrary to what he told me, I assure you of that."

  PJ said, "We don't doubt that, Senator. The chief told us the same thing, that he verified Bennett's alibi, but that's not what we've discovered."

  He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk, "Well, that would cast a different light on things wouldn't it."

  We spent the next thirty minutes pumping Palmer for everything he knew about Butch Bennett. What he knew was mostly second hand rumor from around town. Bennett's reputation was consistent with a guy who was on the down hill slide of alcohol abuse. Like Windy, Palmer said that he never understood why a woman like Amanda would marry a guy like Bennett. Yet, at the end of the conversation he was still asserting that, regardless of any innuendo about Bennett, he was confident that the right person had been convicted. What else was he going to say? I did a sloppy job and sent the wrong person to death row.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  After we left Senator Palmer, PJ said, "We didn't really learn anything from him that we didn't already know."

  I contemplated a second and then said, "Maybe what he didn't say told us more than what he did say."

  "Please enlighten me, I'd like to think the trip wasn't wasted."

  "Well, it seems to me that he made little effort to either debunk our theory that Butch was involved or to defend his prosecution of Robinson. Oh, he put up token arguments, but nothing that he was adamant about, and look how quickly he was willing to cast blame on Chief Davies. I think old Senator Palmer has real doubts about the guilt of Freeman Robinson."

  PJ scoffed before saying, "Yeah, that and two bucks will get us a cup of coffee."

  I looked at her in surprise, "Wow, you are becoming a cynic."

  PJ replied, "You're right. Tim used to say that an investigation was like unraveling a big ball of twine. You just had to keep pulling on little pieces of twine until you found the end that would unravel the ball. But, in this case, I feel like we keep finding ends that only lead to short pieces. We aren't making any headway into unraveling the ball itself. And time is running out."

  It was the first time PJ had casually mentioned Tim's name to me since his death. I took that as a good sign. Maybe her grief is moving to a new stage.

  We were quiet for a few minutes as we each processed our conversation with the senator. Finally PJ said, "We need to go at Butch hard, but we need something more substantial than what we have at this point. Amanda is key. If we can get her to tell us that Butch assaulted Jessica during his drunken outbursts we'll have something to lean on him with. That coupled with the fact that he doesn't really have an alibi, maybe we can get him to give up something that can be used to raise enough doubt to at least get Robinson a stay of execution."

  I thought to myself that it would take a lot more than reasonable doubt to save Robinson's life at this point in the process. I chose to keep that opinion to myself and said, "If anyone knows what was going on in that household it is Amanda. She is key at this point. Hopefully, tomorrow when we see her again, she'll be ready to give us the whole story."

  PJ nodded and said, "Amanda, or Debbie Chapman, they are the two people who would have known if Butch was capable of killing Jessica. Since we know where Amanda is, and have no idea where Debbie is, it looks like she is our only hope."

  I considered Debbie Chapman for a moment. "You know PJ, it seems likely that if Jessica was afraid of Butch she would have shared that with Debbie, her best friend. Maybe, even more likely than sharing it with her mother. Especially if her mother was afraid of Butch as well."

  PJ sighed, "I agree, but I don't know if we'll be able to find Debbie Chapman in time to do any good."

  "Maybe we'll get lucky and your friend will find her for us."

  Another tired sigh. "Maybe."

  We were on U.S. 27 on the southern outskirts of Lake Placid when PJ suddenly drove into a small shopping area. Ten or twelve businesses in a long low-block building fronted by a parking lot. My surprised look garnered a quick point with her extended right hand while she said, "Looks to me like the kind of place that can tell you what's wrong with your phone."

  Sure enough, the sign on the business at the far end of the strip announced CellTec Communications and displayed the logos of most of the major cellular telephone companies. We parked in front and entered. Display cases on both sides of the showroom held an assortment of cell phones and accessories. The buzzer on the front door brought a tall thin young man wearing a tee shirt stating, Geeks are Sexy, from the back area of the store to the service counter.

  I explained that my phone seemed to be loosing its charge at a ravenous pace. He asked if he could take a look at it and I handed it to him. His thumbs flew over the screen at a dizzying speed, only stopping as he occasionally muttered something to himself. I understood when he said something about apps that are energy hogs, but he might as well been speaking a foreign language for my comprehension of most of what he said.

  After a couple of minutes of flying thumbs he said, "Here it is, it's this tracker app. It's a real energy hog and I would bet that's the problem."

  "Tracker app? What do y
ou mean?"

  He held the phone toward me and pointed at the screen. "See this app. It's a hidden tracker app. Lets the user track your location, who you text, who you call, that kind of stuff. Usually see it used for people to track their kids, or spouses who want to know if someone is cheating." He stopped short and looked from me to PJ and back to me. "Ah, of course I can have no way of knowing who or why it was installed." A bright blush spread up his neck and engulfed the acne that had not quite disappeared from his young face.

  I said, "Well, there is no spouse, so I don't know . . ." It did dawn on me who must have installed it and I didn't like the thought one bit. I asked, "Can you delete the app for me?"

  "Sure, no sweat." The thumbs flew again for a few seconds, "All gone. It's as if it was never there."

  As he handed me the phone I asked, "How does a person load one of these on a phone?"

  "Nothing to it. Just need your administrator password like installing any app."

  PJ asked, "Isn't there a way to do it without actually having the password?"

  His vigorous nod reminded me of a bobble head. "There is. You can send someone an email with the app embedded in something attached. Something they are likely to download, like a photo. Once they download the photo the app is automatically installed."

  I asked, "If that is the case won't the app be automatically reinstalled if the attachment is still on the phone?"

  "Not unless you reopen the attachment. Let's say it's embedded in a photo. As long as you don't reopen the photo you're fine. If you do reopen it, the app will reinstall."

  I suddenly was afraid of the phone in my hand. I asked, "Can you show me how to delete photos without opening them?"

  He looked at me as if I had asked the dumbest question imaginable, and after he demonstrated the process to delete photos I agreed with his assessment. I asked what I owed him for his services and he scoffed, "Nothing, we don't charge for simple services like this." Simple to him.

  After we got outside PJ pointed at a Cafe sign on the business a few doors down. "How about I buy you a coffee before we head back? I could use a Coke."

  Once we had our drinks she looked across the table and said, "I don't mean to pry Jack, but who do you think planted that app on your phone?"

  "Well, I thought about the CIA or the NSA, but decided it's probably Elena. No, it's not probably Elena, it is Elena." I took a sip of my coffee and continued, "She's been getting more and more possessive lately. I guess possessive is the right word. Either possessive or just plain weird. In any event, she seems to want to know where I am and what I'm doing all of the time anymore. I had been sometimes ignoring her frequent calls and texts thinking that she would get the message that I wasn't always available to her every moment of the day and night. I thought my strategy was working because she seemed to be slacking off lately. Now I know why."

  PJ remained quiet, giving me space to process my thoughts. My mind went back to a conversation I had with Elena's father at the time she and I started dating. He told me that he didn't want the rumors about him to impact her opportunity to find happiness. I couldn't help but think there may have been a thinly veiled warning in that conversation. Something like, 'Don't make my daughter unhappy or you will learn the truth about my reputation.' The recollection was darkening my mood.

  Reaching across the table, patting me on the arm, PJ said, "I'm sure you'll figure out your best course of action, Jack. You're an astute guy, you'll figure it out." Her touch chased away some of the gathering dark clouds of my mood.

  I gave her a lopsided smile and replied, "Oh, I know what I have to do, all right. It's just whether I'll live through it that I'm not so certain about."

  PJ sat back in her chair and regarded me sternly. "Well, it's not like we didn't tell you, Jack. As I recall, several people around you suggested that getting involved with the daughter of a mobster might not be in your best interest in the long run."

  I glared and spit back, "Thanks, I needed that."

  Another light touch on the arm as she said. "Hey relax, I'm just teasing you. I'm sure it will work out just fine. One thing about Lorenzo Mancuso, he's very smart. I would imagine that the last thing he's going to do is harm you. It would bring way too much heat on him."

  I softened my glare. "Well, that's comforting."

  PJ said, "You know, we could be jumping to conclusions. Maybe it wasn't Elena. Maybe it's someone else. We should have asked that techno geek if he could tell which photo the app was embedded in. We could stop back and see if he can tell."

  I shook my head, signed and said, "No need. I'm not a real downloading kind of guy. In fact, I'm not certain that I've downloaded, or opened any attachments, on my phone in the past six months. That is with the single exception of several photos of Elena and I taken at her dad's birthday party that she sent me Saturday morning. I opened them and looked at each while we were driving to LaBelle. It was Saturday afternoon that I started having problems with my phone dying."

  PJ said, "Well circumstantial, but a pretty good case, Counselor."

  "Yeah, it's Elena all right. This is the last straw." I may have been wrong, but I swore I saw a smile flicker across PJ's face for just an instant.

  She looked at her watch and said, "We better drink up and get started back."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  We resumed our drive southbound on U.S. 27. I sat back in the seat and closed my eyes attempting to envision how to end the relationship with Elena without ending my own life. I could hear PJ on the phone talking to Angela. She was telling her that it would be quite late before PJ got home, so Angela could stay with her grandparents if she would like. The relief in PJ's voice indicated that Angela had finally agreed. Just as PJ ended her call, my cell phone vibrated in my pocket. It was Elena. I didn't answer and put the phone on silent.

  Darkness had set in and we were in the middle of nowhere when we came around a curve in the road and saw flashing emergency lights ahead. PJ slowed as we approached a Highway Patrol car angled across the highway. The trooper was walking back to his car as a blue pickup truck was turning around and heading back toward us. It was obvious that the highway was closed at this point.

  As PJ coasted up and stopped the trooper walked up to her open window. "Sorry ma'am, the road is closed ahead. Smoke from wildfires makes night driving too hazardous in several locations south of here."

  "We're headed for Hollywood, what would you recommend as our best alternative route?"

  "Wow ma'am, that's a tough one. You can go back north a couple of miles and go left on the county road there. It will wind around, but if at each juncture you go west or south you will eventually find your way to SR 31 which will take you south to SR 80. Go west on SR 80 to I-75 and take that back across the Alley. Although, I'd keep tuned to your radio, they were talking about possibly closing the Alley later tonight. Fires down there, too."

  PJ replied, "Thanks, Trooper." I thought her tone was a bit curt. The fires weren't his fault, he was just doing his job. Of all people, she knew that. After turning around PJ muttered, "I hate it when wet nosed cops call me ma'am." That explained the tone.

  I asked, "Did you get those directions. I couldn't hear very well, but sounded a little complicated to me."

  "I got the gist of it. Just keep working west and south. We'll put Fort Meyers into the navigation app and use that to keep us on track." I took out my phone and opened the navigation app. It was obviously going to be a late night.

  I turned on the car radio, as the trooper had suggested, in an effort to hear any information regarding road closures. I'd heard stories of these situations, the wild fires causing the sudden closure of roads, but had never experienced it.

  We had driven about an hour, and were in the absolute middle of nowhere, when we heard a public service announcement on the radio listing the highway closures. Sure enough, I-75 was closed where it crossed the Everglades. To make matters worse, it sounded like the routes we needed to reach Fort Meyers were also closing.
It was as if we were trapped. PJ stopped the car in the middle of the lane. No reason not to, we hadn't seen another vehicle in the last thirty minutes. She said, "Why don't you see where the closest lodging is?"

  I looked around at the endless darkness and scoffed, "Here, you think we're going to find something out here?"

  PJ rubbed the back of her neck and said, "No wise guy, I don't think we're going to find something out here, but I'd like to know that we're heading for the closest lodging before we strike out again. It's obvious we're not going to get home tonight, so let's not spend the night driving around in circles."

  I fumbled around with the app for a couple of minutes before PJ asked, "Would you like for me to try?" I gladly handed her the phone.

  After a couple of minutes she sighed and said, "Wow, nothing anywhere close. We may need to backtrack all the way to Lake Placid." Then she sat up straighter and said, "What's this, some sort of bed and breakfast on a rural ranch setting. It's only about ten miles north of us. I say we take a look at it, if it doesn't look like The Bates Motel we can stay there. If it does, we'll just slog it out back to Lake Placid."

  "Sounds good to me. Sure you don't want me to drive?"

  "I'll drive 'til we get to this place. If we don't stay there I'll let you take a spell as we head back to Lake Placid."