The Last Chance Lawyer

by William Bernhardt

  “Do you have any idea how Sanchez got into this country?”

  “We do not. We were caught off guard, and that’s pathetic. If we can’t track a major criminal like him, who can we track? Someone with his kind of money, unfortunately, has enormous resources. That gives him a huge advantage. We have the support of the United States government. But we do not have enormous resources. Our budget is modest, to say the least.”

  “So you can’t stop a major gang lord, but you can deport a little girl.”

  “Let me put my cards on the table. I’m an immigration agent, and the law says people who no longer have protected status must leave the country. That includes Esperanza. If she isn’t adopted soon, she’ll have to leave. I know Gabriella has been charged with murder, which makes her chances of adoption slender, even if she’s acquitted, which seems rather unlikely. The prosecutors tell me you haven’t got a chance, Dan.”

  “Yeah, they feel they have a rock-solid case.”

  “Those are exactly the words they used. I think Gabriella is not adopting anyone, but if there’s any way I can help Esperanza short of breaking the law, I will. I’ve been at this job for a good while, and it’s not for the big bucks.” He chuckled. “Most months I can barely pay the mortgage. But it does put me in a position to help people every now and then.”

  “I appreciate that,” he replied. “But it sounds like there’s nothing you can do for Esperanza.”

  Crenshaw pushed two tall stacks of folders across his desk. “I photocopied everything I have in my files. Some of it relates to Gabriella as well as Esperanza. I don’t know that there’s anything in there that will help you, but who knows? Maybe you’ll see something I didn’t. I hear you’re good at finding escape hatches for hopelessly guilty defendants.”

  He realized he hadn’t exactly been complimented, but he chose to take it that way anyway. “You’ve heard of me?”

  “Checked you out as soon as I heard you were on the case. They say you’re a hard worker. Take these files and see if they help.”

  “I’ll do that.” He didn’t know if it was mere curiosity, or his brain making weird connections, but he felt compelled to ask an irrelevant question. “Mind if I ask what’s up with the cowboy duds?”

  Crenshaw grinned. “Not at all. When I hit forty, I decided I was old enough to start dressing to please myself. I love Westerns. Cowboys are my heroes, and some people think today’s immigration officers are kinda like the Wild West’s Texas Rangers. Patrolling the borders and making the nation a safer place.”

  “I guess that’s one way of looking at it.”

  “I love seeing the world from a fresh perspective.”

  “Is that why you were peering through a kaleidoscope?”

  Crenshaw opened a drawer and pulled out two kaleidoscopes just like the one on his desk. “Here, have one. Both of you.” He tossed them across his desk. “Something else I’ve loved since I was a kid. Peer through the glass and see a different world. A lovelier world.”

  He took one of the kaleidoscopes from Crenshaw, held the glass to his eye, and turned the wheel. The colors danced and sparkled. The bland government office became a Technicolor wonderland.

  “And after you’ve appreciated all that beauty,” Crenshaw said, “remind yourself that the kaleidoscope isn’t creating those colors. It’s just forcing you to appreciate the beauty that surrounds us, that we tend to overlook, every day of our lives.”

  Chapter 22

  Dan was secretly pleased, though he would never admit it, when Maria was unable to make the trip to meet Luis González. Not because he disliked her company—but because he had a strong desire to drive the Jaguar.

  Garrett accompanied him to the meeting. He was good company, and apparently didn’t have a compelling need to sit in the driver’s seat. This was the first time they’d been alone together. Maybe he’d get to know the man a little bit better.

  “How long have you been with Mr. K?”

  “A little longer than Maria,” Garrett answered. He had a slow easy way of speaking. “Before that, I worked solo, taking it easy, never working too hard. Handful of cases at a time. Played keyboards three nights a week at a local club. Lots of trips to Hawaii.”

  “I love Hawaii. Have you been scuba diving at Turtle Bay?”

  “I prefer to stay above the water. Went for the Hawai’i Bowl last year.”

  “You’re a football fan.”

  “You could say that. Box seats at Raymond James Stadium.”

  “You like the Bucs.”

  “Doesn’t everyone? How about you?”

  “I’m more into doing stuff than watching other people do stuff.” He quickly amended. “That wasn’t meant as a criticism. I just never understood why it’s fun to watch other people play sports. I’d rather be doing it myself.”

  Garrett laughed. “That wasn’t an option for me. I tried to play ball in school. Most uncoordinated person who ever lived. Law school was a better choice.”

  “And then Mr. K’s law firm?”

  “I worked in government for a while. Worked for the Florida Department of Law Enforcement. Spent four years on a state senator’s staff.”

  “Republican?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “Nah. I just notice subtle things. Like the radio in your office is always tuned to Fox News.”

  “I think things are getting out of control in this country. We need to get back to basics. Remember why we fought for independence. Can’t let the federal government become the new monarchy.” He hesitated. “I guess you think that makes me a total whack job.”

  He thought for a moment. “Do you have a ‘Hitler Was Right’ bumper sticker on the back of your pickup?”

  “Hell no.”

  “Then you’re not a total whack job.” He smiled and changed the subject. “Tell me about this man were getting ready to meet.”

  “He’s a high-ranking member of Emilio’s organization. He ran the gang whenever Emilio was in lock-up, and he’s back in charge again now.”

  He pulled up outside a large warehouse, not far from the ocean. The sign read SOUTHSIDE IMPORTS. It looked like a busy operation. Twelve different loading docks, all of them occupied.

  “Looks like this guy is a mover and shaker. How did you get us in to see him?”

  “It was easier than you might imagine. The man runs his business...like a business.”

  “We are talking about a gang, right?”

  “A gang in the millennial era. Which apparently has come a long way since West Side Story.”

  “González keeps office hours?”

  “And he has a Rolodex and an appointments secretary and everything.”

  He found a parking space on the street. Ten minutes later they were in the lobby. They only waited at the receptionist’s desk about five minutes. A well-dressed woman in a short skirt escorted them inside. And then outside.

  They were shown through double doors into what appeared to be a greenhouse. An arboretum, she explained. An arboretum about the size of Mr. K’s house, and filled with greenery. Exotic trees, colorful flowers. He was no expert, but he thought he spotted a few orchids, African violets, and all manner of ivy, herbs, and succulents. Whoever put this place together put a lot of money into it.

  At the end of the walkway, he spotted a small man holding a pair of shears pruning some sort of shrubbery. Vest, no jacket. Man bun. Posed, as if he knew he was being watched. Birthmark on the left hand.

  “Mr. González?”

  The man looked up. He was five foot two, maybe five foot three at best. Not an imposing figure. “Call me Luis. Are you Mr. Pike?”

  He extended a hand. “Good to meet you. I think I’ve heard Emilio mention you.”

  “No doubt. We’ve been together a long time. And you are Garrett?” Luis shook his hand as well. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet the man who has defended and protected Emilio on so many occasions. You’ve been of great benefit to our enterprise, and we’re grateful.”
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  Our enterprise? Not stereotypical gangsta. “What is it we’re in? An overgrown sunroom?”

  Luis chuckled. “I hope you’ll forgive my indulgence. This is my passion. I love the green. I love flowers, especially bright colorful ones. They bring me great joy. It is a welcome respite from the quotidian tasks that unfortunately fill most of my days.”

  This man had neither the demeanor nor the vocabulary he expected from a gang leader. “You’ve done a terrific job making this appealing. I’ve seen botanical gardens that were not so well kept.”

  “I come here every moment I can. Of course, I have others who help with the upkeep. I’ve invested a great deal of money here. But you can’t take it with you, right?” He chuckled a little. “I hope one day to make it even larger and open it to the public. I have not been blessed with children, at least not yet. I would rather spend my money on life than on sports cars.”

  Luis gestured to the collection of flowers to his left. “I obtained many of the seeds from the Kanapaha Botanical Gardens. Just outside Gainesville. Beautiful facility. I’ve modeled mine after it, making a few improvements here and there as I saw fit. Notice the gorgeous birds of paradise. Hard to grow here.”

  He nodded, assuming that the birds of paradise Luis referred to were not actually birds. “Lovely.”

  “And there are azaleas and camellias. Passion flowers, jasmines, honeysuckles. Pickerelweed. All present their unique challenges. But it sooths my soul.”

  He almost felt guilty disturbing this tranquil environment with a discussion of the case. “What can you tell me about your...operation? It’s not what I expected.”

  Luis smiled. “I hope you’re not indulging in the common misapprehension that since my friends and I are Hispanic, and we live in Florida, our activities must be illegal.”

  He drew in his breath. “I’m not racist, if that’s what you mean. But please remember, I have represented Emilio on several occasions. And he has always been connected with drugs.”

  Luis sighed. “I respect Emilio, especially the way he dug himself out of crippling poverty and did the same for others. But he has not always made the best choices when it comes to business associates. He grew up in a poverty-stricken neighborhood and many of the old ties persisted for far too long. Nonetheless, the business I run is 100% legitimate.”

  It seemed unlikely, but he hoped it was true. It would make their task so much simpler. “What kind of business are you in?”

  “International trade. Imports and exports. We move a lot of electronics, but only where it is legal. The European Union. And now, Cuba.”

  “What do you import?”

  “Oil, when we can get a good deal. Rare woods. As you might guess, occasionally exotic flowers. And yes, not to sound trite, but we do actually bring in Havana cigars. Now that it is legal to do so.”

  Luis kept mentioning the legality of his business. Which could be a sign that he had indeed straightened this business out. Or could make one wonder, to paraphrase Shakespeare, if he protesteth too much. “This has been a prosperous business shift?”

  “Look around you.”

  “A cynical soul might suspect that the arboretum, and the whole import line, is a front for your drug-running.”

  “It is not. We have been exceptionally prosperous. One of the best and most profitable new businesses in St. Pete. We now employ more than sixty men and women, all of Hispanic descent. I target people who grew up poor, as Emilio and I did. I want to break the cycle of poverty that sends so many of our people spiraling in the wrong direction. We want to lower the crime rate and improve the reputation of south-of-the-border immigrants, one case at a time.”

  “Admirable. But no drugs?” He hadn’t actually denied it yet.

  Luis took a step to the right and pruned an ivied lattice. “We are developing, slowly, a line of pharmaceuticals. There is money to be made bringing prescription drugs from other countries where they are vastly less expensive. But the paperwork, and the government regulations that must be dealt with, are incredible.”

  “Just to be clear—you don’t peddle street drugs?”

  “Never.”

  “What about sex trafficking?”

  Luis shuddered. He tucked in his chin. “The very thought disgusts me.”

  “But you are aware that there is an active sex trafficking ring that seems to have some sort of ties to this area. I believe the man who died in the shootout, Sanchez, was connected to it.”

  Luis’ jaw clenched. He seemed to struggle to regain control of himself before he answered. “I know Sanchez dealt in that sort of thing. We have not. We would never.”

  “Even if there was a profit to be made?”

  “What profiteth a man to gain the world but lose his soul?”

  A gang lord who quoted the Gospels. This was a new era. “How do you like running the organization?”

  “It is a great deal of work, but I’m doing the best I can.” Luis bent down and picked up a rake, then smoothed the peat chips.

  “As long as Emilio is in jail.”

  “I am not sure what you’re saying.”

  “You have a strong reason to not want Emilio back on the streets. Your life is better the longer he remains in jail.”

  “Emilio is our founder.”

  “Forgive me if I read between the lines, but I know Emilio was involved in illegal activities, and you probably hated that. I suspect you’ve been fighting him tooth and nail for a long time, taking the money he made from the drug trade and steering it in more honest directions. You’ve only gotten this far because Emilio has been behind bars so long. If he gets out again, you could lose everything.”

  Again, the small shudder. Almost imperceptible, but he saw it, just the same. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He pressed on. “Some people believe Emilio was set up at the Trademark. That someone lured him to a rendezvous that could easily have led to his death. He told me he received a text from someone. I bet you’ve got Emilio’s private number, don’t you?”

  “I begin to find your remarks insulting. I’m a legitimate businessman. I’m a member of the Chamber of Commerce.”

  “Which requires filling out a form and paying a $200 fee.”

  “Emilio is my brother. I would never do anything to harm him.”

  “Did you know your brother is working on an immunity deal? If it happens, Emilio could be out tomorrow.”

  He could tell that tidbit caught Luis by surprise. But he rebounded quickly. “I have not heard that. And I have many friends. People of influence.”

  “Like who?”

  “Like the mayor of this city, for starters.”

  “She may not have much pull with the district attorney. Who I hear would like to be the next mayor.” He took a step closer. “Convince me you had nothing to do with this mess. Tell me what happened that night at the Trademark.”

  “I do not know. I was not there. If Emilio had told me he was going, I would’ve told him not to. It was a stupid idea and typical of his—” Luis cut himself short.

  “Typical of the stupid things he was always doing? The illegal gangland things he was always doing? Which is why you wanted him out of the way?”

  “I see I am never going to convince you. I will respectfully have to ask you to leave.” Luis snapped his fingers, and the woman who had escorted them in appeared at the end of the walkway.

  He continued to push. “Answer one question for me. Why was Gabriella at the Trademark that night?”

  “I assume because Emilio wanted her there.”

  “Why?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “No, it isn’t obvious to me at all.”

  “Are you not aware of how skilled Gabriella is with handguns?”

  “Noooo...”

  “Have you seen her temper?”

  He glanced at Garrett. Garrett shook his head. News to him too. “Are you suggesting Gabriella was there...as Emilio’s security?”

  �
�More like his assassin. That woman is bad news. For everyone. And that includes the little girl.”

  “You know about Esperanza.”

  “I know you are making a very bad mistake.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “I am a legitimate businessman. I don’t make threats. I take action against those who might harm me or my business.”

  He tilted his head to one side, weighing Luis’ words. He made a point of appearing defiant, though in reality, he was scared to the tips of his toes. The last thing he needed was to be on the wrong side of St. Pete gang lords. “What are you threatening me with, Mr. Legit Businessman? Trade sanctions?”

  Again the guarded smile. “As you can see, I know how to care for a garden. How to nourish and protect it. Shield it from inclement weather. And pests.” Luis gestured toward the assistant. “Janine will escort you out of the complex. Please do not resist.” He gave them both one last look. “And please do not return. Ever.”

  Chapter 23

  Dan stepped into Jimmy’s private office–-and gasped.

  This was like no other office—if that was the word—he’d ever seen. The walls were lined with toys, dolls, and action figures, some mounted on the wall, still wrapped in plastic. A tall shelf housed what looked to him like an endless supply of tabletop games. He had a Star Trek pinball machine and a Foosball table. His desk was cluttered with superhero figurines and a small jukebox. There was barely any room for what must be annoyingly intrusive legal stuff.

  “Now I know where all the Toys R Us stock went after the chain folded.”

  Jimmy grimaced. “There’s nothing wrong with having a fun office.”

  “Do you bring clients back here?”

  “And they love it. Their kids love it, too.”

  “That part I believe. Do you actually play with this stuff?”

  “Dan, these are collectibles. You don’t play with them. You admire them. From a distance. Would you play with the Mona Lisa?”

  He stared at a colorful figure hanging on the wall. “Hey, I remember these.”

  Jimmy beamed. “The original Mego DC superhero figures? Classic. You read comic books?”