“And this must’ve been a massive cow because that’s a mighty big bite of steak.” Hunter took a whiff of the flavor coming off the barbeque. “Especially for lunch.”
“Hey, I’m a growing boy.” Jones laughed. “And I’d rather cook a steak outside, in the sunshine, than wait till it’s dark and cold to cook this beautiful thing. Look at it—it’s a work of art. Museums ain’t got nothing on this piece of art.”
After a quiet morning, Jones offered lunch at his home, and Hunter jumped at the chance the second he suggested it. Of course, they were there to talk business, but Jones’ barbequed T-bone steaks, lathered with his family’s secret smoky sauce, were the best in the city.
Hunter loosened his tie and took it off, followed by his jacket, and hung them over the back of the plastic outdoor chair. He rolled up his sleeves and smiled again. Sunshine in December, especially after days of snow, was something to celebrate.
“What happens to the girl that called you? Can they build a corruption case against Schultz from that?”
“There’s no evidence, it’s basically her word against his. And I don’t like her chances of convincing a prosecutor to press charges. Schultz doesn’t often get people to sign contracts for bribes. There’s no evidence to back up her story, so even though it may convince the jury in this trial, it won’t stand alone as a charge.”
The steaks sizzled, filling the air with the smell of charred meat. He turned the meat again, and Hunter shook his head with a grin.
“The reason I called you for lunch is I managed to find a contact in Schultz’s old law firm. A friend of a friend who owes me a few favors. She’s a paralegal but she knows a lot of what happens around there.” Jones started to stir his famed smoky sauce in a small bowl. “She’s looking into where they store old files. Asking around to see where they store all the forgotten about papers.”
“I don’t hold much hope. I got screwed on this case. I took a chance, dived into a world I wanted no part of, and if the decision goes against us, I’ve lost the chance to see the file. This was the outcome I least wanted.”
The grill sizzled again as Jones turned the steaks. Jones was sure the light breeze would fill the whole neighborhood with the salivating smell. He was surprised the neighbors weren’t trying to jump over the fence to steal his lunch.
“If you don’t get the file from Cowan, what do you want in court?” Jones asked. “Guilty?”
“He didn’t do this. He didn’t order those drugs. Someone set him up. That I know. Was it Schultz? Probably. The verdict for this case has to be not guilty.” Hunter sat on a plastic chair, leaned forward, and rested his elbows on his knees. “But should Cowan be a free man, walking the streets of Chicago without any punishment? I don’t know the answer to that. But I never want to see a person go to prison for something they didn’t do.”
Hunter’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out and answered it. “Esther, what have we got?”
“The jury has a decision.” She responded. “Judge Marshall wants everyone back in court as soon as possible.”
“Thanks Esther. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”
Hunter ended the call as Jones took the steaks off the grill. The smell was overwhelming, and the juicy steaks looked perfect.
The jury decision would have to wait until after lunch.
Chapter 38
As Hunter walked to the defense table, Rick Cowan was already there, waiting in his finest suit. Cowan still had swagger, he still had confidence, but his head had dropped. Hunter saw the cracks in the unbreakable arrogance. Hunter placed his briefcase on the defense table, greeted Cowan, and then opened a file.
“Is this it?” Cowan asked. “They’ve got a decision?”
“This is it.” Hunter responded. “The jury has reached a decision.”
“What do you think?”
“I think you’re a man that’s spent many years breaking the law.” Hunter stared at him. “And today is my last day with you. That was the deal. You’ll give me the file as payment and we’ll go our separate ways.”
“Our deal ends when I say it ends. The file gets handed to you when I say it should be handed to you. If I lose, then you’ll appeal the sentence. I’m not going away for more than five years. No way. You’re going to use every appeal, every avenue, to secure an agreeable prison term.”
“I’ll get the file. Guilty or not, I’ll get my hands on the file. I know where it’s kept.” Hunter bluffed.
“How could you know that?”
“Did you really think I would trust you? Of course not. You couldn’t possibly believe anyone would trust you. My investigator has been working around the clock to find the file. It would be easier for you to give me the file, but if not, we’ll find a way to take it.”
Cowan’s mouth hung open for a few moments before responding. “I should’ve known. You’re a smart man, Hunter, but don’t think I won’t make a call to have the file destroyed if I lose this case.”
The door to Judge Marshall’s chambers opened and the bailiff stepped out first.
Hunter’s heart pounded in his chest. He wasn’t sure what he wanted the jury to say. If Cowan was found guilty, he’d do a long stretch. A minimum of fifteen years in the slammer, perhaps even twenty-five, as Judge Marshall was known to be particularly harsh on drug offences.
But Hunter also knew Schultz set Cowan up. Schultz pulled every string and called in every favor to run Cowan down. There was no honor in that.
Hunter tried to slow his heart rate with breathing exercises, but it wasn’t working.
Judge Marshall was in no hurry as he approached his seat, ambling forward without a concern for time.
Jasmine Langford would need to run out of town as quickly as possible. Hunter had been trying to contact her, but she was on the run. He couldn’t find her. He was comforted by the fact Cowan didn’t have the resources to chase a former dancer, especially not after she turned her testimony around to support him.
But if they won, she needed to worry about Schultz.
If Cowan was found not guilty, Schultz, Warden, and Kokkinos would have to step carefully, but they knew Cowan’s influence was almost gone. If he got off, they would take another crack at Cowan, no doubt, and it would have a more violent outcome. Not a set-up, but a hit. They all had secrets they couldn’t risk getting out, and Cowan was known for his vengeful streak.
The bailiff brought the jury in. They were uneasy, averting eye contact with Cowan as they walked in.
Cowan stared at them, hoping for one of them to give him a sign, a wink perhaps, but they offered nothing.
Hunter and Cowan stood.
Judge Marshall turned to the jury. “Jury Foreman, have you reached your verdict?”
“We have, Your Honor.” The jury member stood tall and proud. “We’ve reached a verdict.”
The jury foreman handed a piece of paper to the bailiff, who in turn, handed it to Judge Marshall.
Guilty or not, Hunter needed to end his association with Cowan.
Judge Marshall took a few moments to read the verdict, and then passed the sheet of paper back to the foreman. The foreman stood tall, proud in the collective decision.
“In the charges of Possession of a Controlled Substance, more than 900grams of cocaine, how do you find the defendant, Mr. Rick Cowan?”
The moment they had been waiting for. The moment they had worked towards.
“We the jury, in the charges of Possession of a Controlled Substance, more than 900grams of cocaine, find the defendant, Mr. Rick Cowan...”
Hunter thought of Esther, working in the office. More than anything, he wanted to keep her safe.
He took a long breath, and looked back to the jury.
“Not guilty.”
Chapter 39
Tex Hunter parked his BMW sedan at the front of the strip club, took a deep breath, and exited his vehicle. It was time to get paid, time to end his association with the owner of the Five-Star Gentlemen’s Club, and tim
e to leave the nightmare behind him. Cowan was set up by Schultz, that was clear to everyone involved. If the corruption racket wanted Cowan in prison, Hunter reasoned, they would need to do it legitimately and within the confines of the law.
A paper sign hung on the front door of The Five-Star, announcing it was closed for the night to celebrate a private event. This was no time to entertain customers, this was no time to worry about money, this was time for Rick Cowan to celebrate his escape from the clutches of the law.
Hunter looked at the entrance to the club, shook his head, and rang the bell at the side of the building. One of the exotic dancers, barely clothed, answered the door. She giggled and appeared excited, or at least a little drunk. Hunter walked through the narrow entrance, running his hand along the velvet curtain, and stepped into the main room.
As he entered, Rick Cowan popped another champagne bottle, the excess fizz spraying onto one of the girls. She squealed with delight. Apart from the dancing girls, there were five more people in the room, hangers on, people who wanted to celebrate with free alcohol. The music was loud, the atmosphere was full of celebration, and the drinks were flowing freely.
“Ah!” Cowan shouted. “My new favorite lawyer!”
Cowan brushed one of the girls off his arm and stood, unsteady on his feet. He’d been celebrating for hours already, and it showed, but he’d still be celebrating long into the night. There was nothing like the threat of prison to help a person realize how much they valued freedom.
Cowan approached Hunter and held out his arms like he wanted a hug. Hunter shook his head.
“Sure, sure. We’re not family.” Cowan laughed. Even a rejected hug wasn’t going to spoil his mood. “At least have a drink on the house.”
Another one of the dancers, also scantily clad, walked over with a champagne glass and a half-filled bottle. Hunter shook his head again.
“I’ve come to get paid.” Hunter turned back to Cowan. “I’ve held up my end of the job, I got you off the charges, now it’s time for you to deliver.”
“Of course, of course. What a job it was too! What a win. You showed those corrupt pricks who’s boss.” Cowan turned around and walked back to the table at the far side of the room. “Come and sit down. Share a drink. Indulge me in a few moments of success first.”
Hunter didn’t respond, following Cowan as he stepped towards the table in the middle of the room.
“This is my good friend—Tex Hunter.” Cowan announced to the group of half-naked ladies. “The best lawyer in town!”
The girls cheered, giggled, and then laughed.
“I’m no friend of yours.”
Cowan paused, looked down at his glass, and nodded at one of the girls with a champagne bottle. He placed the glass on the table and walked towards the office at the side of the club, signaling for Hunter to follow him. He swayed as he walked. Cowan walked into his office, leaving the door open for Hunter to follow.
“You did well with the dancer, Jasmine. I don’t know what you told her, but you turned her around. Her testimony was the clincher. It was beautiful. Even if I told her what to say, I don’t think she could’ve done any better.”
“You’ll leave Jasmine alone.”
“I’m not going to chase her, but she needs to be careful. She crossed some powerful players, and they won’t be happy with what she did up there on the stand. She knows a lot about me, and she knows a lot about what happens in the club. All these girls do. That’s going to change. In future, I’m going to have to carefully select the girls I let into my inner circle. But if what she said was true, she also knows a lot about Schultz, and he’s the type of person who will hold a grudge. She’ll need to check over her shoulder at every corner, screen every phone call, watch every car following her.”
“Schultz framed you from day one.”
“I don’t believe that. Schultz is still my friend. They must’ve had something big over him, and used that to pressure him into testifying. I don’t blame him for it. That’s just the world we live in.”
“Even with all the evidence against him, you still don’t believe Schultz did it?”
Cowan ignored him, and walked to the office desk, pulling a folder out of the first drawer. He gave Hunter a thin folder, holding no more than five printed pages.
Hunter flicked it open. He stood in front of Cowan’s desk, reading a police report, and looking at two old family photos.
“This is it?” Hunter squinted, scanning the size of the folder. “That’s your thirty years of evidence? This is nothing more than what you showed me on the first day.”
“It’s not everything, but it’s a taste.”
Hunter’s mouth hung open for a moment, before he realized what was happening.
“You see,” Cowan waved his hand in the air. “They’re going to come back after me. They’re going to attack again. I know these people, and they won’t rest. They’ll keep coming until I’m behind bars. They want me to go down for what happened to the girl, Lana. And I saw what you did in court. I saw how you destroyed those witnesses. I thought there was no way I could’ve won, no way I could’ve beaten those charges, but somehow, you managed to convince those twelve idiots I’m an innocent man. You must be a magician.”
Hunter’s jaw ground together as his shock turned to anger.
“I need you, Tex. You’ll get the next part of the file when you defend me again.”
“I’m not defending you. I’m not having anything to do with you ever again. Our deal was the file, all the evidence, for this job. I got you off. I got you back out here to your club. And I need to get paid.”
“Now, now, settle down, big guy.” Cowan reached back into the drawer of his desk and removed a Glock handgun. He placed it on the table, facing Hunter. “Let’s not make any rash decisions we might come to regret later on.”
Cowan rested his hand on the weapon as Hunter stepped forward. Cowan hesitated for a moment, and that moment, that one second of reluctance, was all Hunter needed.
Hunter’s left hand went to Cowan’s wrist, blocking the weapon from being pointed at him, and his right hand went to Cowan’s collar. Within a split second, Cowan found himself squashed against the wall, fingers gripped around his collar, unable to reach the weapon.
Hunter pressed his knuckles into Cowan’s throat. “Tell me where the rest of the file is.”
Cowan tried to struggle, tried to move free, but Hunter was too big, too strong, and too determined, to allow Cowan even the slightest of movements.
Cowan tried to take a large breath but gagged as Hunter’s hand pushed deeper. His eyes became wide as he tried fighting off the pressure. Cowan lunged his knee towards Hunter, hitting his thigh, but Hunter didn’t flinch. Rage had engulfed him.
“The file.”
Cowan moved his eyes towards the table. Hunter released some of the pressure from Cowan’s throat, allowing him to draw a breath. Hunter held the strip club owner against the wall, waiting for him to continue.
“I don’t have it here, but I’ll show you where it is.” Cowan swallowed hard. “I’ll take you there now.”
“No,” Hunter’s voice was firm. “You’ll tell me exactly where it is.”
Cowan nodded, and swallowed again. “Schultz still has it.”
Cowan avoided eye contact as Hunter held his stare on him for a long moment.
Hunter released his grasp from Cowan’s throat.
Desperate to draw breath, Cowan put his hands on his knees, sucking in deep gulps while struggling not to gag. When he finally regained his composure, Cowan stepped away from Hunter, back towards the door, the gun, and his partying friends.
“What can I say,” Cowan held his palms up. “I can’t be trusted. You should’ve known that from the start.” Cowan rubbed his throat and then started to smile. “Jerry Schultz was my lawyer. I gave him all my legal information. I didn’t know he crossed me until a few weeks ago. I trusted that man. Every piece of information I received, I gave to him. I thought that was th
e right thing to do. Those items,” he pointed to the file on the table, “are the few things I received after I parted ways with Schultz’s law firm. And I’m sure if you ask nicely, he’ll give you the file. You used to work together, right?”
Hunter looked to the weapon on the table. He’d fired a gun before in self-defense, but never in anger.
“Everything ok in here?” A dancer stepped through the open door. “We want to keep celebrating. There’s more champagne to open!”
Hunter looked at the girl. She was a witness. Something Hunter didn’t want.
“We’re all good, sweetheart.” Cowan smiled. “Mr. Hunter was just leaving to start chasing a file.”
Chapter 40
“He’s not at home.” The lady at the front door of the mansion said. “I don’t know where he is.”
“I saw him in the window as I parked. I know he’s here.” Tex Hunter stood on the front step of the enormous home, which was hidden from the road behind a number of grand Oak trees. It was there, in the wealthy suburb of Highland Park, that Hunter was determined to bring down the corrupt. “And I’m going to talk to him.”
The lady didn’t know how to respond. She hesitated, went to say something, before someone else called out.
“It’s alright. I’ll deal with it.” There was a grumpiness to the voice. “I’m coming.”
Hunter stood at the door, the lady blocking his entrance, until Jerry Schultz appeared in the hallway. Schultz stepped around his wife, and onto the front step, pulling the heavy door closed behind him. He took an extra step down onto the gravel driveway, gazing out to his garden. He walked forward, away from the house, and indicated for Hunter to follow him.
“I have a gardener these days.” Schultz pointed to his vast lawn. The grass was weed-free, luscious, and groomed. A collection of shrubs grew at the end of the driveway, clipped to look like they were from a real estate magazine. “I used to do it all myself, but I can’t do as much now. I still use the riding lawnmower, I love that thing, but I can’t spend all day on my hands and knees, digging around this garden. Not good for the back.”
Deadly Justice: A Legal Thriller (Tex Hunter Book 4) Page 19