The Whole Truth

by James Scott Bell

  “Oh,” Johnny said, “you’re calling me a liar now. Is that it?”

  “What else am I supposed to think?” Steve stood, walked around his desk. “When have you been up front with me?”

  “I never lied to you.”

  “Really? How about just holding back the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

  “Back off, Steve.”

  He realized he was almost literally in Johnny’s face.

  Johnny said, “Didn’t I tell you to be patient? Didn’t I tell you to trust me and wait? Why didn’t you come to me before pulling this?”

  “Wouldn’t have made a difference.”

  “How do you know? You don’t even know how much you don’t know, do you?”

  “You want to run that by me again?”

  “Haven’t I been looking out for you?”

  “Have you?”

  Johnny slapped his sides. “See that? See how you’re talking? I haven’t even told you about that little problem you had with a former client.”

  “What former client?”

  “The former client who won’t be sending around people to bother you anymore.”

  Steve went cold. Mendez.

  He sat on the edge of his desk. Light-headed. “How?”

  “You don’t think we know guys in the joint? Steve, look at me.”

  Steve turned away.

  “If you would’ve just waited, Steve. There’s so much I want you to know, but at the right time.”

  “The time is now, Johnny. Otherwise, I’m outta here.”

  “Come on — ”

  Now Steve faced him again. “I mean it. No more hiding. I want to know exactly why you tracked me down and pulled me in.”

  “I told you. The feds are breathing down our necks.”

  “Why?”

  “Why do they do anything? Because they can.”

  “Maybe they care about ritual murder.”

  “What?”

  “Do you know anything about gang murders in LA? Where certain gang members were treated like bananas?”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Skins removed.”

  Johnny’s face stayed impassive. “Steve, who have you been talking to?”

  “Why don’t you answer my question first?”

  “What are you doing this for? Isn’t the money good enough? Have I done you wrong in any way?”

  “I don’t know what you’ve done, that’s the problem.”

  “It doesn’t have to be a problem.”

  But it was. And the bigger problem was located at Beth-El, sitting in a wheelchair, working Johnny like a puppet master. This couldn’t end well.

  “Johnny, listen to me. You think about this. Come to LA. Walk out of this whole thing, come out and we’ll get a place together and I’ll help get you a job. We’ll start all over again.”

  “Are you nuts?”

  “Why not?”

  “I’ll just be another ex-con in LA. What I’ve got here is what I’ve waited my whole life to get. There’s a lot of money that’s going to be made, Steve, and you’ll have a big share.”

  “Money made how? Not from church offerings. What enterprises have you got going that I don’t know about?”

  “This is where I have to ask you to trust me again, Steve.”

  “That’s not good enough anymore.”

  “It has to be,” Johnny said.

  Steve shook his head. “Come with me, Johnny. Please.”

  “Are you leaving?”

  “Yes.” At that moment, he decided. He had to get out. Even if it meant losing his brother again.

  Johnny didn’t speak for a long time. He walked to Steve’s window, looked out.

  “Do me one favor,” Johnny said. “Just one. Think about it for one night. Talk to me again in the morning. Will you do that much for me, Steve?”

  “It won’t make any difference.”

  Johnny turned around. “It might. That’s all I’m asking.”

  Well, he wasn’t going to be leaving in the next ten minutes anyway.

  “All right,” Steve said. “One night. But I can’t promise I’ll change my mind.”

  Johnny smiled. “That’s my brother. You’ll see. It’ll be better tomorrow.” He paused, then nodded and went out the door.

  Better tomorrow? Not likely. Not better, ever.

  Steve loosened his tie, unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, and fell on the sofa. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine that everything was normal again. That he was a good lawyer at last and didn’t have recurring hunger for drugs or liquor.

  And had a brother he could trust.

  At some point he dozed off.

  When he awoke he wanted to see Sienna. Right away. And Gincy. And Nick Nolte. He missed his cat. Was anybody feeding it?

  He could go find out right now. Why not? He had no pressing engagements. Not now. All he had was four walls closing in.

  Sure. He’d drive to his old building and say hello to Mrs. Stanky and go to the drugstore for her. He’d buy some milk and feed Nick and unload his troubles.

  He’d call Gincy and Sienna. Maybe have dinner with her. Maybe she’d be glad to this time.

  Whatever happened, the drive itself would do him good. Get him out on the road and feeling that sense of motion.

  And not let anything gain on him.

  He grabbed his keys.

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  He was outside of town a half mile or so when he saw the lights — the colored, flashing bar of a law-enforcement vehicle.

  What, had he been speeding?

  No. The Ark was incapable of speeding, except in a hospital zone. Which this wasn’t.

  It was a sheriff’s car, and it closed in. Steve pulled to the shoulder and came to a stop. In his side-view mirror he watched as the sheriff’s car parked behind him, about twenty yards back. A uniform got out and, with a familiar swagger, approached.

  Owen Mott.

  Who must have followed him. Who must have been waiting for him to leave his office.

  He saw another deputy get out of the car on the other side. Two? Approaching him like he was a freaking fugitive or something.

  Steve put his window down and waited.

  Mott stepped to his window, removed his sunglasses, and said, “Where you headed?”

  “Hi, Sheriff,” Steve said.

  “Asked you a question.”

  “Was I speeding?”

  “One more time. Where were you planning to go?”

  Okay, Mott was after something. Play it very cool. “I was heading back to Los Angeles, maybe look up some friends.”

  “Don’t you have any friends here?”

  “I’m still the new kid in town.”

  “That you are,” Mott said. “Mind stepping out for a moment?”

  Hard to stay cool now. “Can I ask why?”

  “I’d just like to have you step out.”

  The other deputy, a younger version of Mott, with sunglasses on, stood on the passenger side of the Ark. To Mott, Steve said, “Sheriff, you know as well as I do there has to be some reasonable suspicion before you can stop a car or detain a driver. So far you haven’t indicated anything of the sort.”

  “Taillight,” Mott said quickly.

  “What?”

  “Busted taillight. That’s why I stopped you.”

  Steve had heard that one before. Busted taillight was a catchall if a cop really wanted to stop you and ask some questions.

  “I’ll be sure to have somebody check out the taillight, Sheriff,” Steve said. “If you want to write it up — ”

  “Out of the car.” Sheriff Mott pulled his gun, held it at his side.

  “Whoa, what is this?”

  Mott put the gun to Steve’s head. “Out now or they’re gonna have to wash up the interior a bit.”

  Steve got out.

  Mott said, “Now you put your hands on top of your head.”

  “What?”

  �
��Do it.”

  Steve complied.

  “Now walk to the other side of the car and get down on the ground for me.”

  “Wait a sec — ”

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  “Why don’t you just tell me what you want and we can clear this — ”

  “I told you what I want,” Mott said. “I want you on the ground. I want you there now. You know I mean it.”

  Steve walked around the front of the Ark, dropped to his knees, then face. He spread-eagled himself on the hot shoulder of the road.

  “Resisting an officer in his duties,” Mott said. “That’s cause for detention. Frank, search the car.”

  “This is bogus,” Steve said.

  “You have any weapons in the car?” Mott said.

  “No.”

  “Contraband?”

  “No.”

  “Keep your face down and arms out,” Mott said.

  Steve breathed dirt.

  Somebody had put out a false report on him. That had to be it. Somebody with a grudge. Neal Cullen maybe? Rennie?

  Johnny?

  “Uh-oh.” The voice of the deputy.

  “What’ve you got, Frank?” Mott said.

  “Take a look.”

  What could it possibly be? An old Arby’s bag? Loose change? Steve had nothing in the Ark but mess.

  “My oh my,” Mott said.

  My oh my what? Steve couldn’t help himself. He lifted his head and looked back.

  Then something slammed into his back. Like a knee. All breath left him.

  His arms were pulled back. Two clicks. He’d just been handcuffed.

  Wheezing for air, he was pulled up to his knees. The two lawmen got hands under his arms and yanked him to his feet.

  Mott held something up to Steve’s face. He tried to focus. It was a baggy, rolled up, the size of a maple bar. Full of white powder.

  Steve opened his mouth. No sound but a sucking for breath. Mott pushed him toward the sheriff’s car. Steve stumbled toward it, wondering if he’d black out.

  And if he did, if he’d ever wake up.

  Mott opened the rear door of the sheriff’s car and pushed Steve in. He banged his head on the edge of the roof, then fell across the seat, still gasping.

  Mott slammed the door.

  FIFTY-NINE

  The smell of vomit came from his cellmate, a fat guy passed out in the corner, breakfast all over the front of his shirt.

  Steve thought it fitting. His life wasn’t worth what was on the guy’s shirt, and stank just as bad.

  Rogue sheriff and partner plant coke in Steve’s car. That would be it for the law career. License yanked. You’re through now. Sorry, no parting gifts, but thanks for playing.

  He’d requested his phone call an hour ago. They’d taken his cell phone and everything else. No one had come back for him. Violation of rights! Sure! And the only witness was snoring in the corner, not out of his stupor yet.

  As soon as they let him, he’d get Sienna on the phone and start the ball rolling on hiring a lawyer. He’d have to hock everything to do it, but he needed somebody aggressive, somebody like Cutler, who’d defended John Gotti. A down-and-dirty New Yorker, a bare-knuckle brawler. Get him up to this one-horse burg and chew some rear, because without someone like that, he was dead.

  What was Mott after?

  It had something to do with Oderkirk’s death. Or maybe just the fact that Steve was associating with the LaSalles and Mott didn’t like the cut of his jib.

  Steve sat on the aluminum bench attached to the wall and knew not even a Bruce Cutler would do him any good. They’d seen to that. Two law-enforcement officers, one former coke-addict lawyer.

  His word against theirs.

  He didn’t need Cutler, he needed Houdini. He’d even settle for Penn & Teller.

  The door to the cell unit opened. The young deputy, the one who’d arrested him with Mott, was standing there. Letting in Johnny LaSalle.

  “Ten minutes,” the deputy said, then slammed the door shut.

  “Johnny — ”

  “Well, this is a fine howdy-do,” Johnny said. “I should be in there and you should be out here.”

  Steve gripped the bars, just like in the movies. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here to get you out, Steve. To take you home.”

  “Bail?”

  “They’re gonna release you OR.”

  “How’d you manage that?”

  “Remember I asked you to trust me, Steve? You can, you know.”

  “Do you know why I’m in here?”

  Johnny nodded.

  “Do you know it’s all a setup?” Steve said.

  “Trust me, Steve. I know. But it’s all right now. I’m here for you.”

  In Johnny’s Jeep, heading toward Beth-El, Johnny said, “Mott has done this before. We know all about it. And that’s what’s going to get you out of this.”

  Steve breathed in the fresh air, trying to get the cell smell out of his body. “What do you mean, get out of it?”

  “Dropped.”

  “How?”

  “I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse.” Johnny tipped his head back and laughed.

  “What do you have over Mott?”

  “Why do you think he’s where he is? Why do you think he keeps getting re-elected?”

  “He’s in your pocket?”

  “Not without some wriggling, but yeah.”

  “Why is he going after me then?”

  “He’s a guy who only understands one thing, and that’s power.

  Who holds it, who can get it back. Maybe he thinks doing this to you is a way to get some power back on his end. But I’m not going to let him do that, Steve. Not to you.”

  SIXTY

  Steve entered the large room where the infamous Bible study had been held, Johnny right behind him. There were several LaSalleites present, some of whom gave Steve a smile and even a slap on the back. Like it was a homecoming.

  Which was not what he wanted. He hadn’t changed his mind about pulling out.

  But those plans were on permanent hold. Johnny held Steve’s immediate fate in his hands. Johnny —

  “Make yourself at home,” Johnny said.

  — held his fate —

  Johnny turned then and walked to the other side of the room. Where Neal Cullen was standing. Hadn’t taken long for Cullen to get bailed out. He smiled at Steve and waved.

  No way, could it really be? Could Johnny have been the one to set this up? Had Mott planted coke in his car, so he would be forced to stay?

  Johnny was whispering to Cullen. The men in the room had formed an informal circle around Steve.

  The big door opened and he heard the familiar whirring of Eldon LaSalle’s wheelchair. Steve turned, and the men split like the Red Sea as Eldon wheeled through them, right up to Steve.

  The old man stopped, looked at Steve, shook his head.

  Johnny came over. “He’s okay, Eldon. He’s with us now.” To Steve, Johnny said, “You are with us, right?”

  “You planned this, didn’t you?” Steve said.

  “Planned?” Johnny said, with an oh-so-innocent look in his eyes.

  “Enough,” Eldon LaSalle said. Then, wonder of wonders, he pushed himself to his feet and stood eye-to-eye with Steve. The sight unleashed cold ripples through Steve’s chest.

  “Do you renounce Satan?” Eldon LaSalle said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You are in the grip of the enemy, Son. Do you renounce him?”

  Oh, this is nice, oh yes. Terrific. “Sure,” Steve said. “Why not? I’ve got nothing else to do.”

  Then Eldon LaSalle slapped him with the back of his bony right hand. Little white lights sparked behind Steve’s eyes. He shook his head. And before he could do anything else, his arms were pinned behind him. Hard.

  “What are you doing?” Steve said. “You crazy — ”

  LaSalle slapped him again. “Quiet! You will renounce Satan n
ow!”

  Steve struggled in the arms that held him. The grip was iron. “Johnny, what is this?”

  “You answer to me,” Eldon said.

  The thought repelled Steve as much as the stench of the drunk in his jail cell. “I suppose you want me to get down and beg like a dog too,” he said.

  “If I say you should, then yes.”

  Steve stared into the dull, dark eyes of the old man. “Eldon, if I was a dog the only thing I’d do for you is lift my leg.”

  LaSalle’s head snapped back, almost like he’d been slapped himself. Then he gave Steve another whack across the face, this one with extra mustard.

  Then he said, “ ‘And whosoever was not found written in the book of life was cast into the lake of fire.’ ”

  “I’ll tell you what you can do with your lake of fire, you can take it and — ”

  “Hang on a second!” Johnny said.

  Eldon shot him a rebuking look. Johnny didn’t back down. “I’ve got it all worked out,” Johnny said. “Steve knows we can take care of his legal problem. He knows he owes us his loyalty. Right, Steve?”

  “I don’t owe you or this motorized nutbag anything. And if I — ”

  “Steve, please,” Johnny said. “Calm down and tell me you’ll work this out with me. That you’ll stay.”

  Steve thought about it for two seconds. “I’ll take my chances on the outside.”

  “Steve — ”

  “Forget it, Johnny. I’d rather flip burgers than work for you or this withered old whack.”

  LaSalle hit Steve once more.

  Steve’s head rang. He was blind for a moment. Then he exploded by jerking his right arm free.

  Without a thought he plowed his fist into Eldon LaSalle’s face. It landed with a smack against skin and cheekbone.

  LaSalle went down like loose change.

  For a moment there was a stunned silence, a calm before the cracking of thunder.

  Then they were all over Steve, throwing him to the ground, punching the side of his head, his back. They went at him like kids at a piñata.

  This is it, he thought. Lights out.

  Then they were being pulled off him. He heard Johnny shouting, “Hold off! Get him to his feet!”

  Hands grabbed his hair and shoulders and shirt and yanked him upright.

  Two other LaSalleites were helping the old man into his chair.

  For a moment Steve felt sorry for Eldon LaSalle. The feeling passed. This was a guy who needed to be off the earth for good.