“Did Short get cash?”
“Two thousand dollars, handed to him by a cop after he testified. He hung around the area for a few weeks, until he heard the rumors about Robles. Then he fled.”
Lacy’s phone was on the table, muted. It vibrated and she glanced at it.
“Why did you change phone numbers?” Wilton asked.
“These are state-issued phones. My old one was stolen from my car just after the accident. My new one has a different number.”
“Who took it?”
“Probably the same people who caused the wreck. So what does Short want to do now?”
“He wants to tell his story to someone who’ll listen. He lied, and the cops and prosecutor knew he was lying, and he feels terrible about it.”
“A real hero,” Lacy said as she took another sip of her latte and looked across the busy lobby. No one was watching or listening, but these days she couldn’t help but notice people. “Look, Wilton, this could be a big break, but this is not my case, okay? Junior’s appeals have been handled by those guys in D.C. and he’s lucky to have such fine lawyers. You need to sit down with them and let them decide what to do with Todd Short.”
“I’ve called them a couple of times but they’re too busy. Not a word. Junior’s last habeas appeal was turned down eight days ago. We expect he’ll get an execution date pretty soon. His lawyers have put up a good fight, but we’re at the end of the road.”
“Have you told Junior?”
“I’ll see him tomorrow. He’ll want to know what will happen now that one of the snitches is recanting. He trusts you, Lacy, and I do too.”
“Thanks, but I’m not a criminal defense lawyer and I have no idea if any of this is relevant after fifteen years. There are limitations on bringing up new evidence, but I don’t know the law. If you’re looking for advice, I’m the wrong person, the wrong lawyer. I would help if I could, but this is way out of my league.”
“Could you talk to his lawyers in D.C.? I can’t get through.”
“Why can’t Junior talk to them?”
“He says somebody is always listening in prison. He thinks the phones are tapped. And he hasn’t seen the D.C. lawyers in a long time. He thinks they might be forgetting about him now that the end is in sight.”
“I disagree. If a snitch appears with a different story and swears under oath that the cops and prosecutor knew he was lying, and he got paid cash, believe me the D.C. lawyers will be excited.”
“So you think there’s hope?”
“I don’t know what to think, Wilton. Again, this is not my field.”
He smiled and went silent. A rodeo team in matching boots and Stetsons paraded through the lobby, their identical roller bags whining in a dull chorus. When they were finally gone and the racket was over, he asked, “Have you met Lyman Gritt, the ex-constable?”
“No. I hear he’s been replaced. Why?”
“He’s a good man.”
“I’m sure he is. And why bring up his name?”
“He might know something.”
“Do you know what he might know, Wilton? Don’t play games with me.”
“No, I don’t. He got fired by the Chief. They are at odds. His firing came just days after your accident. There are a lot of rumors, Lacy. The tribe is uneasy. A black guy and a white girl were on the reservation at midnight, digging around for something. He ends up dead under suspicious circumstances.”
“Is his being black suspicious?”
“Not really. We’re not hung up on skin color. But you have to admit it was unusual. It has been the general belief for a long time that bad people were behind the casino, in bed with our so-called leaders. Now, finally, it might be unraveling. Someone, you and Hugo, dared to show up and start asking questions. He met a tragic end. You came close. The investigation is getting buried by our new constable, who’s not trustworthy. Lots of rumors and speculation, Lacy. And now, from nowhere, Todd Short sneaks into the picture again with a different story. It’s unsettling, to say the least.”
Wait till the FBI rolls in, she thought. “Promise to keep me posted?”
“It depends on what I hear.”
“I’ll call the lawyers in D.C.,” she said. “It’s the least I can do.”
“Thanks.”
“And say hello to Junior.”
“Why don’t you go see him? He doesn’t get many visitors and it looks like he might be nearing the end.”
“I’ll do that. Does he know about Hugo?”
“Yes. I told him.”
“Tell him I’ll try and stop by as soon as I can get away.”
“He’ll like that, Lacy.”
–
Lacy reported the meeting to Michael, then did a quick review of Junior’s file. She called the law firm in D.C., and eventually managed to pull a lawyer named Salzman out of a meeting. His mega firm had a thousand lawyers and an excellent reputation for pro bono work. It had spent countless hours representing Junior since his conviction fifteen years earlier. She told him Todd Short was back from the dead and now facing a more certain demise. Salzman was at first incredulous. Short and Robles had been out of the picture for so long it was almost impossible to believe the news. Lacy confessed her ignorance in this field and asked if it was too late.
“Oh, it’s late,” Salzman said. “Very late, but in this business we never quit, not until the final moment. I’ll be down as soon as I can get there.”
–
It was no real surprise when Special Agent Allie Pacheco stopped by the office for a visit. It was late in the day, and on the phone he said he was just around the corner, needed only a few minutes. Four days had passed since the meeting in Luna’s office. To their surprise, Pacheco had not called or e-mailed Lacy.
They met in Michael’s office, at one end of his cluttered worktable, and it was immediately obvious that Pacheco’s mood was quite different. His quick smile was missing. He began with “Luna and I spent yesterday in Jacksonville presenting the case to our boss. Our recommendation was to open an investigation, immediately. We agreed with your strategy that the first step should be to try and solve the murder of Hugo Hatch. At the same time, we would begin the rather formidable task of penetrating the syndicate’s maze of offshore companies and tracking the money. We would place Judge McDover, Phyllis Turban, Chief Cappel, and Billy Cappel under surveillance and perhaps even obtain warrants to tap their phones and wire their offices. Our recommendation projected the need for five agents initially, with me in charge of the investigation. This morning the boss said no, said we simply cannot spare the manpower at this time. I pressed a little, but this guy is decisive and sticks to his guns. I asked if I could be allowed to investigate with perhaps one or two agents over the next month or so. Again, he said no. Our official answer is no. I’m sorry. We did our best and pushed as hard as we could, under the circumstances, though ‘pushing’ is perhaps not the right word.”
Michael seemed unfazed. Lacy wanted to curse. Instead, she asked, “Is there a chance things can change if we learn more?”
“Who knows?” Pacheco replied, clearly exasperated. “Things can change in the other direction too. Florida is a favorite point of entry, always has been. We’re getting flooded with tips about illegals sneaking into the country, and they’re not coming here to wash dishes and lay concrete. They’re organizing homegrown talent to wage jihad. Finding, monitoring, and stopping them has a far greater priority than the corruption that once got us excited. But let’s keep an open dialogue. I’m in the loop. If something happens, I want to know.”