by David Archer
“Is there a way to prove it, though?” Sam asked.
“What is it they say on the crime shows on TV? Follow the money. If you took a good look at Whitaker's bank account a few days before my arm got broken, I'll bet you'd see a pretty big deposit. You'd find another one in Carlos's account, probably the very next day.”
“Mr. Pennington, I've spoken to a couple of people who tell me that Carlos wasn't the only one working for whoever was giving him orders. Any chance you know who else might have been in that racket?”
Pennington shrugged his shoulders. “I didn't have any direct experience with him, but I've heard other people talking about Roland Maxwell. Roland was special forces in the Army, and he's about as mean and vicious as a man can be. Never holds down any kind of regular job, but he's always got money, and I hear tell that a few people got him instead of Carlos. Even heard of one case when the two of them showed up together.”
“Okay,” Sam said, “can you give me the date when your arm got broken? I've got someone who can check those bank accounts.”
“That's easy, it was January 19th of last year. I can remember so easily because it was a year to the day after the accident that killed my wife.”
Sam scribbled the date in a notepad. “Can you think of anyone else who might talk to me about this? About dealings with Whitaker or McAlester?”
Pennington shook his head. “Not as long as Whitaker is still running around loose. I can tell you this, though. If you can get the prosecutor to go after him, I'm willing to testify. I'd just want some kind of protection for the people who work for me. I already know that Whitaker doesn't care who gets hurt, as long as he gets what he wants. He can send people after me all he wants, I got my concealed carry permit and I'm ready to put up a fight. I just don't want anyone else getting hurt because of me.”
Sam thanked the man for his information and then got back into his car. It was still fairly early, but he had promised to go by Karen's office and pick up the list of witnesses she had prepared for him. He called ahead to make sure she was in, and she told him she'd be waiting.
“Come on in,” Karen said when Sam tapped on her door. He hobbled inside and sat heavily in the chair in front of her desk, and she passed him a manila envelope. He glanced inside and saw a list of names and contact information for each.
“Came by for this,” he said, “but I've also got a little information for you. Talked with a fellow this morning who had a run-in with Carlos McAlester. McAlester wanted him to drop a lawsuit he had going against a local doctor who was driving drunk one night and killed this guy's wife. The case somehow never made it to the prosecutor, so he had filed a wrongful death suit. When he declined to drop it, McAlester broke his arm, seriously enough that it required surgery to put it back together.”
Karen leaned back in her chair and looked at him. “The doctor hired McAlester?”
Sam shook his head. “According to my witness, McAlester worked for a man you probably know pretty well, Randy Whitaker. It seems that Whitaker considers himself something of a power broker. If you need something done, or not done as the case may be, you make a deal with Whitaker. He sends someone like Carlos to convince the people involved to do things his way. My guy had dealt with both Whitaker and Carlos before the arm-breaking incident, so he's pretty sure of his facts.”
Karen's eyes had gone wide at the mention of Whitaker's name. “Sam, I'm going to be honest,” she said. “There have been rumors for the last several years about Whitaker, but no one has ever gotten any kind of dirt on him. Personally, I think the guy is a sleazeball. When Ralph was killed, Whitaker was the lawyer the city hired to negotiate the settlement. He actually made a pass at me while we were in a meeting to discuss my kids' survivor benefits.”
Sam grinned from ear to ear. “Well, the guy I talked to, who wants his name left out for the moment, gave me a lead that might tie Whitaker to Carlos McAlester. If I can find a few more connections, maybe from your list of witnesses, we could have enough to go to the prosecutor. Wouldn't break my heart a bit to put this bastard away. If I'm hearing it right, then he's the son of a bitch who sent me this.”
He reached into his pocket and tossed the crosshair photo of Kenzie onto Karen's desk. She picked it up and looked at it, and Sam saw a flash of anger in her eyes before she got herself back under control.
“I wish you'd brought this to me when you got it? There might have been fingerprints on it, or DNA that we could trace.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “I can't imagine anyone would be stupid enough to handle that photo without rubber gloves and a sterile environment. It came in a letter to Indie, with a computer-printed label.”
“Still,” Karen said, “you should've told me about it sooner, Sam.”
“I told you about it yesterday. And just for the record, McAlester used a photo in a similar way to intimidate my source, once. You can bet your sweet ass I want to nail the guy who took that picture.”
Karen looked at the picture again for a moment, then handed it back to Sam. “Whatever you get on Whitaker, I want to hear about it. If you're right, then he's an accessory after the fact to multiple crimes, including several homicides. On the other hand, if I go upstairs with this right now, he's going to hear about it. I think it would be best if I let you handle this for right now, don't you?”
“I think you're right,” Sam said. “I'm going to call Indie and have her get on some computerized aspects, and as soon as I have something concrete, you'll know it.”
“I expect to hear from you no matter what you find, even if it's muddy and runny. Like I told you, there's been a lot of rumors about Whitaker, but no one has ever been able to make anything stick. If anybody can, I think it's you, but that doesn't mean you won't need some help. And don't forget—we're talking about a man who uses threats and intimidation as part of his daily business. If he's as bad as we think he is and finds out you're coming his way, he won't hesitate to have you eliminated.”
Sam shrugged. “If there's one thing I've learned in the last couple of years, it's that I'm an extremely hard son of a bitch to kill. I don't plan on letting that change anytime soon.”
Sam got up and left the office, leaning on his cane as he made his way out to the car. As soon as he was sitting behind the wheel, he took out his phone and called his wife.
A sleepy voice answered. “Hey, baby…”
Sam grinned, but kept it out of his voice. “Hi, sweetheart,” he said. “I'm so sorry to be calling this early, I know you've got to be exhausted, but when you're up and about I need you to get Herman on to some things for me. Are you awake enough for me to tell you what it is, or should I text it to you?”
“Sam Prichard, we've been married over a year. Am I ever ready to function right after I wake up? Text me whatever you need, and I'll put Herman on it once I'm awake.” She paused for a second, then went on. “Unless you need it right now? I could probably force myself to get up, if you need me to.”
Sam couldn't help it, he laughed. “Baby, go ahead and get some rest. The information I need will be just as valuable this afternoon as it would be right now. Besides, I'm still working so I may have more leads to give you by the time you get up and drink some coffee.”
“Okay,” Indie sighed. “I'll call you when I'm up and about, okay?”
Sam told her that would be fine, and let her get off the phone. He texted her Randy Whitaker's name and asked her to check his bank accounts for a large deposit somewhere around the date Pennington had given him, and then cross-reference it with deposits to Carlos's account. He sent the message and tucked the phone back into his pocket, then pulled the list Karen had given him out of the envelope. He scanned down the names, and suddenly one of them jumped out at him.
Jim Mitchell. Sam checked the address to be sure it was the one he knew, and then fired up the car.
13
The Corvette cruised past Sam's own house and pulled in at the Mitchells' place a couple of blocks down. Jim and Anita Mitchell wer
e friends, and Sam had known them since shortly after his retirement from the police force. Sam was in a wheelchair at the time, and his grass had been growing pretty long. Early one morning he heard the sound of a lawnmower outside and looked out to see Jim and another neighbor cutting the grass for him. He'd gone outside to thank them and offer to pay, but they told him that was what neighbors were for, and he and Jim became good friends. Jim and Anita had often invited him to join them and their kids for dinner, or to go out to a movie. When Indie had come into his life, she and Anita had also hit it off, while Kenzie found the Mitchell twins, who were close to her age, to be the perfect playmates.
According to the papers in the envelope, Jim had been a witness in a murder case a year before Sam had met him. The case involved the death of a teenage girl who was last seen trying to get away from an older man in a Lincoln Navigator. Jim was one of two witnesses who had seen the girl through the truck's window, slapping at the glass and screaming for help. Jim had gotten a partial license number and called police, and the truck was traced to a local businessman named Harold Morgan.
The girl's body was found the next morning, dumped behind a trash bin at a fast food restaurant. She was identified as the daughter of a minister from Utah, and had been missing for over a week from her home. Jim was called to the morgue to confirm that she was the girl he had seen crying for help.
The Navigator and its owner were located later that day, and it was confirmed that he had recently returned from Salt Lake City, but the man swore ignorance about anything to do with the girl. Unfortunately, neither Jim nor the other witness had gotten a truly good look at the man who was driving the Navigator, but when Jim saw Morgan in profile, he was confident enough to say that he could make a positive identification. Along with the statements of both witnesses that Morgan's Navigator was the one they had seen the girl in, and with the partial plate that Jim had gotten, the case looked pretty solid. All that remained was to put Morgan on trial.
Four days before the trial was set to begin, however, both of the witnesses suddenly declared that they were unsure of their identification. They apologized for wasting the time of the police, but there was nothing the prosecutor's office could do. Without their testimony, it was impossible to prove that Morgan had had anything to do with the girl's death or disappearance.
Sam parked his Corvette next to Jim's Mustang and got out. He made his way up the walk to the door and rang the bell, but Anita snatched it open even before he got his finger off the button.
“Hi, Sam,” she said. “You looking for Jim?”
“Yeah,” Sam answered. “I called his office, but his secretary said he was off today. Is he around?”
“Sure, come on in. He's out in the backyard, we got family coming in this evening and he's getting the grill ready for a cookout.”
Sam thanked her and went through the house to the back sliding door. Jim was on the deck, just outside, and he looked up with a smile when he saw Sam.
“Hey, buddy, how's it going?”
Sam took the hand that Jim extended and shook it firmly. “Kind of hectic, right now, to be honest,” Sam said. “You probably haven't heard, but my bass player is in jail on a murder charge, so I've sort of come out of retirement. I'm pretty certain she didn't do it, but the prosecutor thinks she murdered her ex-husband, and this case has taken a turn that got me digging into some other things.”
“Oh, gee, Sam, I'm sorry to hear that. Knowing you, though, I would just about bet you're feeling like you're back in your element, am I right?”
Sam grinned. “Maybe you know me too well,” he said. “Listen, Jim, this case is the reason I stopped by. I was looking into some things that might be connected to it and your name came up.”
Jim looked up from where he was cleaning the gas jets on the grill, and Sam saw wariness come into his eyes. “My name? In a murder case?”
“Well, not precisely in connection with this case, no. The thing is, the man who was killed in this case is someone you might have known, or met at one time. His name was Carlos McAlester. Ring any bells?”
Jim's eyes suddenly found the grill fascinating. “That, um, that doesn't sound familiar. Why do you think I might have known him?”
Sam glanced over to his right and saw a deck chair, which he pulled close and sank into. “Carlos McAlester was what we call a leg breaker. He used violence, or the threat of violence, to intimidate people into doing what he wanted them to do. Things like backing down on a lawsuit, or suddenly forgetting details about a case he was supposed to testify in. Jim, you were supposed to testify in a murder case a while back. In the initial stages, you made it clear that you were absolutely certain of your identification of the suspect, but just before his trial was set to begin you decided you weren't so sure after all. It seems like that's been happening a lot lately, and now that we know about McAlester and his escapades, it's a safe bet that he had something to do with a lot of those situations.”
Sam paused and just looked at his friend, who continued fiddling with the grill. “Sam,” Jim began, “I, um, I don't think I ever met the guy. As for what happened in that other case, I just—I just couldn't be sure that I had the right guy. That's all it was.”
Sam sat in silence as Jim continued what he was doing. After a moment, Jim started talking again. “Anyway, you know me. I wouldn't let somebody scare me off.”
Sam reached into his pocket and took out the photo of Kenzie, holding it out so Jim could see it. His friend looked at the picture, then turned his eyes away again quickly.
“Jim, I know what kind of man McAlester was, and I know that he isn't the only one. These men, they don't just threaten to get rough with you to get what they want, they'll threaten your family, your children…Jim, talk to me. Tell me what really happened.”
Jim set the grates back on the grill and then walked over and took another chair. He looked down at the deck for a few seconds, then leaned back to let his eyes meet Sam's.
“Yeah, it was McAlester, but he had some other guy with him. Roland something or other. They caught me while I was out to lunch one day and showed me several pictures like that, pictures of Anita and the twins. They told me in no uncertain terms that there was nothing I could do to protect my family, and if I didn't change my story then something terrible would happen to them.” He closed his eyes and put a hand over his mouth. When he spoke again, his voice was muffled. “Sam, I'm not a coward, I swear I'm not, but you and I both know that a man won't risk his family if he can avoid it. I knew it wasn't right to change my story, and I really wanted that monster to get what was coming to him, but I just couldn't take a chance that something would happen to Anita or the kids.”
“Hey,” Sam said, “don't worry, Jim, you're preaching to the choir. As soon as I saw this photograph, I called in some pretty huge favors to get Indie and Kenzie completely out of the state and with extremely efficient bodyguards. I don't mind facing down people like this, myself, but like you say, I'm not going to put my family at risk in order to do it. I'm not going to look down on you, Jim. I just need to know the details.”
Jim swallowed hard and let his hand drop to his lap. “Like I told you, they came at me on my lunch break. Carlos, he did all the talking, he told me that somebody powerful wanted me to decide not to testify. I told him to get lost at first, I really did, but then that other guy, Roland, he pulled the pictures out of his pocket and just handed them to me. He didn't say a word, but Carlos leaned real close to me and whispered something about bad things happening to my family if I didn't change my mind.”
“Did either of them give you any idea who this powerful person might be?”
“No names were mentioned, but it was pretty obvious. It had to have been that guy Morgan, he's the one who was looking at life in prison.”
Sam chewed the inside of his cheek for a second. “Well, it turns out there's somebody who's running these thugs. A guy like Morgan, he wants witnesses to decide they don't want to talk, he tells this other guy
and that fellow sends out the leg breakers. I've already got an idea who that person is, I'm just trying to find proof.”
Jim shook his head. “I wouldn't know anything about that, all I know is that I wasn't going to let them hurt my family. I hated backing down, Sam, but I just didn't feel like I had a choice.”
Sam nodded. “I understand. Does Anita know?”
Jim let his eyes drop to the floor again. “Yeah, she knows. When I told her that I had to back out of testifying, she went through the roof. I finally had to tell her why, so she wouldn't think I was just a piece of crap.”
Sam grinned at his friend. “You're not a piece of crap, Jim. You stepped up when you saw that girl in trouble, and you tried to help. Then you were willing to testify against the man who probably killed her. That's not the way a coward does things, and you don't have to be a coward to choose the safety of your family over civic duty.” He got to his feet, leaning on the table to do so. “I'm gonna go,” he said. “Right now, I'm thinking that powerful somebody is probably behind the murder of Carlos McAlester, and that's why I'm trying to build a case against him. If I can find enough connections, then maybe I can shake somebody up enough to talk.” He held out a hand to shake again, and Jim took it.
“You're not going to tell Anita we talked about this, are you?” Jim asked.
“Nothing to tell,” Sam said. “I just stopped by because I was bored.”
Sam walked down the steps from the deck and around the house, opening the gate to get out of the fenced backyard. He got back into his car and looked at the list again. The next recanted witness he wanted to visit was a woman named Mabel Swinson, and she lived only a few blocks away.
Mabel Swinson was a feisty old lady of almost 70, and she had contacted police about drug trafficking that was going on right in front of her own house. Using an iPhone, she had actually gotten video of drug transactions taking place, and when the dealers were rounded up she had agreed to testify against them.