by Shawn Wilson
“Can I help you with that?”
“I hope so or I may die of thirst.” Lily handed the bottle to Brick. A quick twist and the seal on the cap was broken. He handed it back to Lily.
“Thanks. What was I saying … oh yeah, the question needing an answer is: Who is Cruz covering for? And without a guarantee of protection for him and his family, he’s probably not going to tell.” Lily took a sip of water. “I know it’s complicated, but there is precedent for a non-citizen to be placed in the Witness Protection Program.”
“How long ago?” Brick asked.
“Not sure, why?”
“Budget cuts—WITSEC isn’t what it once was, just like a lot of other programs.”
“That’s not encouraging.”
“It is what it is.” Brick shrugged. “I don’t mean to be flippant, but that’s the reality we’re facing. A lot is going to depend on how big the fish is we’re reeling in.”
Lily popped a pill of some kind into her mouth and washed it down. “Okay, I’m sure you have better contacts at the U.S. Attorney’s Office than I do. Who should I call?”
Brick didn’t have to think twice. “Kyle Thibodeaux.”
“Name doesn’t sound familiar.”
“He may not be the person you’ll need to deal with, but I would trust him to point you in the right direction.” Brick reached in his pocket and retrieved his wallet. He pulled out a tattered business card and handed it to Lily. “Haven’t gotten around to cleaning out my wallet since I retired, but even if I had, I would have hung on to Kyle’s card.”
Lily picked up her phone and started tapping in numbers. She stopped short. “Maybe it would be better if you called.”
* * *
The call to Kyle Thibodeaux resulted in a late afternoon meeting. It was just after four when Brick and Lily exited the Judiciary Square Metro Station. They crossed Indiana Avenue and headed toward Superior Court, going against the eclectic tide of humanity exiting the courthouse. Conservatively dressed attorneys and jurors still wearing their badges mingled with young guys in low-riding baggy jeans and a couple of scantily-clad women.
“Do you think it occurred to those women that it’s hard to convince a judge you’re not a hooker when you’re dressed just like a hooker?” Lily didn’t wait for Brick to respond. “Maybe I should give up this defense gig and do a fashion police show, What Not to Wear … to Court.”
“That’s probably just one of many shows you could do. I’ve always said this place has more drama than the Kennedy Center.”
Lily nodded. “Except if someone says ‘break a leg’ here, they might take it literally.”
Brick laughed. “Which reminds me, the last time I was in Thibodeaux’s office it would have been easy to get injured. I don’t know what he’s working on, but stuff was piled everywhere. Getting to his desk was like navigating an obstacle course.”
Lily pointed at her feet. “No worries, I’m wearing sensible shoes these days.”
“Retiring the heels?”
“Maybe. At least when I’m walking around D.C. The sidewalks are so uneven; I’ve lost my balance a couple of times.” Lily checked her watch. “We’re about fifteen minutes early. I need to stop by the law library.”
“Okay. I’ll meet you at Thibodeaux’s office.”
For a minute, Brick considered stopping by the Police Liaison Office, but he quickly dismissed that thought. He would be required to check in if he were testifying in his former official capacity, but to do so now would only raise questions as to why he was here. Instead, he went down to the cafeteria and got a can of Coke from the vending machine. He popped the top and took a couple of swigs. It had only been a few weeks since he had turned in his badge, but already the courthouse seemed like an unfamiliar place. A place where he didn’t belong anymore in the same way kids don’t belong hanging around their high school after they’ve graduated. And if they continue to hang around, they’re looked upon suspiciously. So where does a retired cop really belong? Brick gave that question some thought as he finished his soda. He didn’t have an answer, at least not yet. He dropped the empty Coke can in the recycle bin and headed toward the escalator.
The door to Kyle Thibodeaux’s office was closed when Brick arrived. He knocked twice, waited, and knocked again. No response. He was about to go back to the receptionist’s office when he spotted Thibodeaux leaving the men’s room. He stopped briefly to speak with a colleague, then headed in Brick’s direction.
“So how’s the life of leisure?” Thibodeaux asked as he unlocked his office door. “I know, stupid question, but the standard one you get when you retire. Am I right?”
Brick nodded. “Thanks for seeing us on short notice. Lily stopped by the library; she should be here any minute.”
“Gotta say, I was surprised. You working with a defense attorney … what’s up with that?”
“They’re not the enemy—well, not all of them.”
“Not sure many around here would agree with that, but I don’t have a personal opinion about Lily Nguyen since I haven’t gone up against her in court. Hell, I’ve been stuck in my office so long I barely see the light of day. But I do know her reputation; I hear she’s tough. Guess that’s why a few of my colleagues call her the Dragon Lady.”
Brick felt defensive. “Would they slap that label on her if she wasn’t Asian?”
“Probably not but I’m confident they’d come up with something equally politically incorrect. Didn’t take long for me to hear what I was being called behind my back.”
“The Crazy Cajun?”
Thibodeaux laughed. “I’m kind of proud of that. Otherwise, they’d probably just call me crazy.” Thibodeaux opened the door. “Let me grab something to write on and we’ll use the conference room. I’m not sure all three of us can fit in my office with all the crap piled up in there.”
When the door opened, Brick could see the tiny office was even more cluttered than the last time he had been there. Thibodeaux reached across his desk and grabbed a legal pad. Upon exiting, he locked the door. That seemed a little odd to Brick given that only authorized personnel were allowed in this corridor. Whatever Thibodeaux was working on must be highly sensitive.
“Thank God we’re close to going to the grand jury, and I’ll be able to reclaim my piece of real estate. As small as my office is, it’s going to seem huge when all this stuff gets out of here.” Thibodeaux turned the door handle, making sure it was locked. “I’m telling ya, Brick, when I was assigned this case, I had no idea what a can of worms I was opening up.”
Brick was curious but knew there was no point in asking what the case was about. He figured information was shared only with those on a need-to-know basis and he didn’t fall within that category. But he could also see it was taking a toll on Thibodeaux. He looked thinner than usual and the dark circles under his eyes were probably a result of sleep deprivation. It was even more reason Brick appreciated Thibodeaux meeting with them. He was glad to see Lily step off the elevator so they could get started.
Brick introduced the two attorneys who shook hands. A quick exchange of pleasantries then Thibodeaux led the way to the conference room. Upon entering the room, he switched on the lights and motioned for Brick and Lily to take a seat. Thibodeaux sat at the head of the table and turned in Lily’s direction.
“So what’s the deal with Guadalupe Cruz?”
“I have reason to believe he was coerced and I plan to file a motion to vacate his guilty plea. Before I do that, I wanted to get some feedback from someone familiar with this kind of situation. Brick suggested we talk to you.”
“Thanks, Brick, you owe me one.” Thibodeaux leaned back in his chair and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “It’s not uncommon for a defendant to have second thoughts and want to withdraw his guilty plea. But it’s very uncommon for a judge to rule in the defendant’s favor.”
“I figured as much,” Lily said. “But given what I now know, as an officer of the court, I have no choice.”
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“Girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”
Brick stole a quick glance in Lily’s direction. Her eyes were focused on Thibodeaux and if looks could kill, the prosecutor would have keeled over right then and there.
“Didn’t mean to sound sexist. In case you don’t know, I’m from Louisiana. We tend to say things like that. Of course, you need to do what’s right.” Thibodeaux picked up his pen and tapped it against his palm. “So who coerced your client?”
“I don’t know.”
Thibodeaux dropped his pen. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and gesturing with his hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. I’m not telling you how to do your job, but personally I don’t have the balls to file a motion to vacate claiming coercion without knowing who’s responsible. Judge Newton will eat you alive.”
“I know it’s risky, but Cruz refuses to identify who he’s taking the rap for unless he’s guaranteed protection. Once the judge hears the evidence we have exonerating Cruz, I plan to petition the court to have him placed in protective custody as a material witness.”
“Good luck with that.” Thibodeaux got up and stretched. “My back is killing me.” He paced back and forth before sitting down. “Protection just for him?”
“And his family—his wife and baby daughter.”
“Where are they now?”
“Mexico.”
“Seriously? What’s their immigration status?”
“Cruz and his wife have green cards. The baby was born here.”
“You’re not going to like what I’m about to say.” Thibodeaux shrugged his shoulders. “You’re between a rock and a hard place. These days with all the budget cuts, getting someone into WITSEC almost takes an act of Congress. I’m not saying it’s impossible, especially if the person threatening him is, let’s say, the big enchilada in a drug cartel. Then it’s a possibility, but if he’s just your typical lowlife, it ain’t happening.”
“But even if the person responsible is a typical lowlife, he’s killed two people.”
“I’m just telling you like it is, I’m not saying it’s fair.” Thibodeaux raked his fingers through his bushy hair badly in need of a trim. “Has Cruz given any hint as to who he’s covering for?”
“No, but my client’s involvement in MS-13 leads me to think it could be someone within the gang.”
Thibodeaux chewed on the end of his ballpoint. “You know there was a time when just saying ‘involvement in MS-13’ would open the door, but gang activity isn’t the threat it once was so it’s lost its cachet. Do you think Cruz is linked to terrorism in any way?”
“No.” Lily shook her head. “Definitely not.”
Thibodeaux turned toward Brick. “Do you agree?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that’s a bummer,” Thibodeaux said. “Used to be if you had dirt on the Mafia, you were in. Then it was the Columbian drug lords. Now it’s Middle East terrorists. It’s the world we live in today.”
“Unbelievable.” Lily’s brief laugh had a sardonic edge. “I’m not sure Cruz could identify the Middle East on a map of the … Middle East.”
“I’m just saying if he had some insight it would be to his advantage.” Thibodeaux interlaced his fingers and stretched his arms forward. “But you know the old saying, gotta dance with the one who brung ya.”
Lily looked over the top of her glasses at Thibodeaux. “Afraid I don’t know that one.”
Thibodeaux smiled. “What I’m saying is, you don’t have a choice. You have to go with what you got. Maybe he does know something that’s a missing link to bigger things than a double homicide. If that’s the case, it could be the bargaining chip you need to make your case to get him into WITSEC. But your first hurdle is to win the motion to vacate.”
“All right then.” Lily smiled politely. “I think we’re done.” She pushed back her chair and stood. “Thank you for your time.”
“My pleasure,” Thibodeaux said. “Let me know what happens with that motion.”
“I will,” Lily said.
“Hopefully, you’ll catch Newton on a good day. Might help if you wear a short skirt.” Thibodaux looked around as if checking to see if anyone else was in the room. “Did I really say that?”
“No,” Brick said. “Must have been the other Crazy Cajun.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
THE SUN WAS setting and Indiana Avenue was all but deserted when Brick and Lily left the courthouse. She had said little since their meeting with Kyle Thibodeaux, leaving Brick to wonder what she was thinking
“So are you going to do it?” Brick finally asked as he and Lily entered the Metro Station.
“File the vacate motion—absolutely.”
“No,” Brick smiled. “Wear a short skirt?”
Lily rolled her eyes. “Not exactly breaking news that Newton is a sexist pig.”
“But at least, as far as I know, he’s not having the marshals pimp for him. I could name three judges who are.”
Lily shook her head as she slipped her fare card into the turnstile slot. “Not going to ask; I’d rather not know.”
Brick understood. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. Together they rode the short escalator down to the platform where the flashing indicator light signaled a train’s approach.
“Good timing,” Brick said.
Lily nodded. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving and all I can think about is—”
“‘Pho?”
Lily shook her head. “No, pizza … Luciano’s.” She shrugged her shoulders. “What can I say, I’m a pizza snob.”
“Nothing wrong with that; besides it’s probably the best in the city.”
“Want to get one?” Lily asked.
“Okay.” Brick could have responded a little more enthusiastically, but he still wasn’t sure where he stood. Lily was hard to figure out. She did seem less formal around him, even a little flirty at times, or maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part. An invitation for pizza—he needed to take it at face value. It wasn’t a date, but then again, it could be a good start.
The doors on the subway car opened. Brick and Lily stepped on board and moved away from the door. At this hour, the train was still crowded but not packed. Lily sat next to an elderly man while Brick stood, holding on to a strap with one hand. With the other, he checked his phone—no messages. Apparently Jasmine still hadn’t had the babies. He slipped it back into his pocket. At Gallery Place, the elderly man got up and headed toward the door. Brick sat down next to Lily.
“You were right about WITSEC and also about Thibodeaux.”
“What do you mean?” Brick asked.
“I never expect someone from the U.S. Attorney’s Office to be receptive to what I present because I’m always in an adversarial position, but Thibodeaux seems like a good guy … for a prosecutor.”
Brick glanced to his right, seeing Lily in profile. Her delicate features reminded him of a cameo his mother often wore. “Next thing I might hear is some cops aren’t so bad either.”
Lily turned toward Brick. “Don’t count on it.”
To Brick’s relief, she smiled when she said it.
* * *
At Luciano’s, Brick and Lily snaked their way past a throng of pizza enthusiasts to the hostess stand. They could see all the tables in the small restaurant were filled.
“The wait time is about an hour,” the hostess said.
“Really? Why is it so crowded tonight?” Lily asked.
“We got reviewed in the Post last weekend. It’s not just the locals now that the secret is out. Should I add your name to the list?”
Brick deferred to Lily to make the decision.
“How about carry-out? It will be faster and my place is practically around the corner.”
Again, Brick kept his enthusiasm in check. “That’s okay with me.”
“Actually, if you don’t mind waiting for the pizza, I’ll go pick up some beer or wine. Any preference?”
“Red wine.”
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br /> Lily opened her wallet and offered Brick a twenty. “This should cover it.”
Brick appreciated the offer but had no intention of letting Lily pay. “You’re getting the wine, I’ll take care of this.”
“Thanks.” Lily hesitated for a moment. “Rather than backtrack from the liquor store, makes more sense for me to head home from there. I’m in the red brick five-story building at the corner of 17th and R. Just press the button next to 3-S.”
“Sounds good.” Brick was thinking it sounded better than good, maybe even great, but continued to keep things in perspective by reining in his enthusiasm.
“See you there.” With that, Lily was gone but a hint of her perfume lingered, mixing with the aroma of garlic and oregano.
“What’ll it be?” The pizza man’s apron was stained with tomato sauce. At least, Brick hoped it was tomato sauce.
Brick’s mind went blank for a second. He glanced at the list of ingredients to remind himself of what they had agreed on. A large thin-crust with mushrooms, sausage, green peppers, and Kalamata olives.
The cashier, sporting a Nationals cap, rang up the order and quoted a price just under twenty dollars. “It will take about forty-five minutes to an hour.”
Brick handed him two twenties. “Think you might be able to speed that up?”
The cashier smiled broadly. “Looks like your pie’s going into the oven next.”
“Thanks. You’re from New York, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, moved here from Queens a month ago.” He looked surprised. “How’d you know?”
“When you said ‘pie,’ that’s what gave you away.”
“Really?” The cashier laughed. “Guess it’ll take more than a baseball cap for me to fit in around here.”
“But that’s a good start.”
* * *
Twenty-two minutes later, Brick left Luciano’s with the large pizza. When he got to Lily’s building, he pressed the button next to 3-S.
“Who is it?’
He shifted the pizza to his left hand and reached for the door. “Pizza man.”
The next sound he heard was a deafening drone. He felt as though he had announced his arrival not only to Lily but everyone else in the neighborhood. He pulled the door open as quickly as he could to silence the buzzer. He stepped inside, making sure the door locked behind him before starting up the stairs. His heart rate accelerated but climbing three steep flights was only partly responsible.
