by David Archer
“I’m a big girl, Sam,” Kathleen said. “I can handle it, trust me. You need to be concentrating on figuring out how to prove Harry didn’t do this.”
Sam sighed, but nodded into the phone even though she couldn’t see it. “Okay, I’ll see you at the courtroom, then.”
Sam went down to the restaurant and ordered breakfast, and tried to think of what his next step should be while he ate. He thought about calling Indie, but he didn’t have any news to give her yet. Better to wait until after court, at least then he could tell her something.
When he was finished with breakfast, he drove to the courthouse and found Kathleen waiting for him in the lobby. “How bad was it?”
“Worse than I imagined, but I got through it. I had to identify him by a tattoo on his arm and a couple of scars; his face was simply destroyed when he was shot.”
Sam shook his head. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he said.
“Like I said,” Kathleen said with a shrug, “I’m a big girl. But it might give me nightmares for a few days.”
They found their way to the proper courtroom and waited for it to open, then filed inside with dozens of others and managed to find seats in the front row, right behind the defense table. They had been sitting there for almost 20 minutes when a number of handcuffed and shackled prisoners wearing orange jumpsuits were led in and seated in the jury box. Harry was among them, and smiled when he saw them sitting there.
The judge came in a few moments later and they all had to stand, but then they were told to sit down once again by the bailiff. Various cases were called, and it was almost 10:30 by the time Harry’s name was called out. He was brought from the jury box to the defense table, where a young woman stepped up beside him. The two of them whispered back and forth for a moment, and than the woman told him to stand and face the judge.
“Please state your name for the record,” the judge said.
“Harold Winslow,” Harry said.
“This is a capital murder case,” the judge intoned, “State of Florida versus Harold David Winslow. According to information filed by State Attorney Benjamin McCall, there is sufficient evidence to charge Mr. Winslow with the murder of Michael William Reed yesterday afternoon, and to establish not only motive, but opportunity.” He looked up at Harry. “Mr. Winslow, do you understand the charge you’re facing?”
“I most certainly do, Your Honor,” Harry said.
“If you are convicted of this charge, you could become eligible for the death penalty. Do you understand this as well?”
“I do.”
The judge looked at the young woman standing beside Harry. “Ms. Bigelow, is this your client?”
“No, Your Honor,” she said. “I was simply appointed for the initial appearance.”
“Mr. Winslow, do you have an attorney of your own?”
“Not yet, Your Honor,” Harry replied. “I haven’t had opportunity yet to try to secure one.”
“And are you seeking bail, Mr. Winslow?”
“I would certainly like to, Your Honor.”
The judge turned and looked at the State Attorney, sitting at the other table. “Objections?”
McCall looked at Harry for a moment, then turned back to the judge. “Your Honor, we feel that bail would not be advisable in this case. Mr. Winslow is a former government agent, and we therefore consider him quite a flight risk.”
The judge glanced down at the file in front of him, then looked back up at McCall. “According to the information you gave me, Mr. Winslow is retired from government service. At his age, I don’t think he’d be all that hard to find if he tried to run away. Do you have any other reasons for requesting the court to deny bail?”
McCall sighed. “Not at this time, Your Honor.”
The judge turned back to Harry. “I’m going to grant bail, and set it at 250,000 dollars. Can you afford that figure, Mr. Winslow?”
“I believe so, Your Honor.”
“Very well, bail is so set. Upon your release, you will be required to provide a local address, because I’m ordering you not to leave the state of Florida. Arraignment will be set for thirty days from today at nine AM. That’s a Monday, according to my calendar. If you fail to show up, of course, a warrant will be issued for your arrest and your bail will be revoked. You will be able to call a bondsman once you are returned to the jail.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Harry said. The case was dismissed for the moment, and Harry was led back to the jury box.
It only took another half-hour to get through the rest of the cases, and then the prisoners were led back out of the courtroom. Harry winked at Sam and Kathleen as he passed them, and made a gesture with his hand that indicated he would call shortly.
Since it was already after eleven, Sam suggested they go and find some lunch. Kathleen agreed, and directed him to one of her own favorite restaurants. It was close to the waterfront, so it took him a few minutes to get there, but when he saw the menu he was glad he had let her suggest it. Sam was a steak lover, and there were some on this menu that he never heard of before.
“Try the wildfire porterhouse,” Kathleen said. “It’s a little spicy, though.”
“Spicy is good,” Sam said. “I’m just not sure I can eat the whole porterhouse steak at the moment. What else is really good here?”
Kathleen laughed. “Absolutely everything. If you like it spicy but don’t want a steak that big, they have the wildfire ribeye, as well. It’s every bit as good.”
“That’ll work, then,” he said. The waitress appeared and took their orders, hurrying back with their drinks.
“My phone has been ringing this morning,” Kathleen said as they waited for the food to arrive. “Friends and some of Michael’s business acquaintances; I’ve got about three dozen voicemails. His death is likely to shake up the yacht community, he was pretty well known in those circles. A lot of people really liked him.”
“If Harry ends up going to trial, the whole story is going to get out. That could be pretty rough on you and your kids and grandkids.”
Kathleen rolled her eyes. “We’ll deal with it if we have to,” she said. “At least my kids are somewhat willing to give Harry the benefit of the doubt. If you can find out who really did this, or at least prove that Harry didn’t, I suspect they’ll come to love him eventually.”
“I’m certainly going to try. Harry’s quite a character, but he’s been one of my best friends for the last few years.”
Kathleen smiled at him. “You’re the kind of man he always gravitated toward. How did you meet Harry, anyway?”
Sam chuckled. “Believe it or not, our association started out at gunpoint. He was working undercover, actually running a drug ring back in Denver, when he got wind of a potential terrorist attack that could have killed hundreds of thousands of people. I was looking for a missing child at the time, and it turned out her father was involved with the drug ring. Harry had a partner in the undercover work who had gone bad, as he put it—tried to get his hands on this terrible poison that was slipped into the country along with the drugs they were naturally importing. Harry pulled a few fast dodges to try to keep it from him, sending that little girl’s father off to Timbuktu with it while he tried to handle the situation, but I messed it all up when I tracked the father down in Arkansas. I ended up with the poison and no idea who to trust, so Harry kidnapped my—well, she was just barely even my girlfriend at the time, her and her daughter, and used them to force me to meet him. When I did, he started telling me that he was the good guy and I could trust him, but it was when Indie told me he had actually handed her his gun that I decided to give him a chance. He took us all to a safe house, but then the other guy attacked with some mercenaries and Harry and I managed to fight them off side-by-side. We caught the bad guy, got rid of the poison and Harry finally told me the truth about who he was. Since then, he’s called me in a couple of times when he had a situation that required, as he put it, ‘the Sam Prichard touch.’ He’s had my back
every time, and we became pretty close.”
Kathleen was nodding. “That’s Harry,” she said. “Once he considers you a friend, he’s a friend for life. And if he actually calls you in on things like that Lake Mead situation, it’s because he sees in you something far above what normal men can do. He told me yesterday that you are better than any agent he has ever worked with.”
Sam blushed a bit and shrugged. “You just do the job that’s in front of you,” he said. “I learned that from Harry.”
An hour later, Sam reflected that she had been absolutely correct. The steak was delicious, and his mouth was still tingling as they walked out to the car.
Sam’s phone rang as he was getting behind the wheel, and he answered it to find Harry on the end of the line. “Come get me, boy,” the old man said. “They can’t handle me here, they’re kicking me out.”
“You made bail that fast?” Sam asked. “Back home, it would have taken you at least six hours.”
“Like I said, they want rid of me. I think someone told them my history, and the guards here are a little scared of me. The bondsman did his part, and I’ve already signed out, so I’ll be sitting out front on the bench. Can you believe they wouldn’t let me have my damned cigars in there?”
Sam laughed. “We’ll be right there, Harry!” He started the car and headed for the jail.
Sure enough, Harry was sitting on the bench in front of the jail puffing on a cigar when they pulled up. Kathleen hopped out and opened the back door, then slid inside so Harry could sit beside her.
“I suppose you haven’t miraculously found the killer yet, am I right, Sam?” Harry asked.
“Not yet,” Sam said. “I’ve talked with Beth’s ex-husband and Michael’s ex-partner, but both of them have legitimate alibis. Harold told me something about Michael having some sort of clash with a motorcycle gang a couple months back, I’ve got Indie working on that angle. I don’t really put much stock in it, though. My gut feeling is that whoever we are looking for is a professional, somebody on the same level as you and Michael. That naturally makes me think of a foreign agent, and I wouldn’t even know where to start looking for somebody like that.”
“I’ll call some friends at Langley, see if there had been any rumors that might involve Michael Reed. The problem is that I don’t have an official security clearance anymore, so they may be reluctant to tell me anything. At this point, I’ll confess I’m a lot more interested in proving my own innocence than finding out who killed him.”
“I’m feeling the same way,” Sam said. “I’ll take us back to the hotel, then I’m going to call Lawton and try to convince him to let me see whatever he’s got. There might be something in there that will help me prove you didn’t do it. If that fails, I’m going to go try to bully my way into the crime scenes at the house and the tobacco shop. Maybe I can spot something they missed, something that will at least cast doubt on their case against you.”
“There is one way I can help,” Harry said. He took out his cell phone and dialed a number with his thumb. “Jonas? Harry Winslow again. Listen, I…Yes, that’s true. I made bail this morning, right after my initial appearance in court. Hell, no, I didn’t do it! That’s my problem. If I had, I’d know what evidence they had against me and could fight it. As it stands now, we don’t know anything, and that’s why I’m calling you. That detective, Lawton? He’s not showing any signs of willingness to cooperate with my private investigator. Think you could put a bug in his ear? Get him to share information with Sam Prichard?” He listened for a moment, then smiled. “I think that’ll work, Jonas. Listen, I appreciate it. What does this make now, about a dozen favors I owe you? Well, call me whenever you need one of them paid back. I’ll be ready.”
He put the phone back in his pocket and looked at Sam in the rearview mirror. “You’ve just been designated a Special Investigator for the Department of Homeland Security. That gives you all the authority you need to demand access to Lawton’s case files. If he refuses, all you got to do is speak to his captain.”
Sam grinned. “Harry,” he said, “you just made my day.”
22
Sam dropped Harry and Kathleen at the hotel, then called Indie as he drove toward the police station. “Hey, Babe,” he said. “Well, Harry’s out of jail. He’s been officially charged with murder, but the judge granted him bail. Any luck on the motorcycle gang angle?”
“Well, yes and no,” Indie said. “I found the incident, but it turns out all six of those bikers were arrested that same day, and they’re all still in jail. It seems every one of them had warrants outstanding for them, mostly for petty stuff like selling pot or shoplifting. These aren’t the kind of bikers you normally think of in connection to something like murder. They’d be more like wannabes, I think.”
“Well, it needed to be checked out anyway,” Sam said. “Harry called somebody at DHS, and he got me appointed as a Special Investigator. I’m on my way to the police headquarters to talk to the detective in charge of the investigation. I want to see the case file, maybe I can spot something they haven’t.”
“Good luck,” Indie said. “I checked out that detective, Lawton, and you might like to know that he’s been reprimanded twice for improper procedures and once for failure to cooperate with federal authorities. This is a guy who doesn’t play well with others.”
“I already figured that out about him. With this appointment, though, I can go over his head if I have to. I’m pretty sure I’m gonna get what I want, and maybe I can actually figure out what’s going on, here.”
“Okay, I hope so. Hey, Kenzie wants to talk to you.”
“Hi, Daddy,” Kenzie said. “I miss you and I love you.”
“Oh, sweetie, I love you and miss you too. Are you taking care of Mommy for me?”
“Uh-huh,” she said. “We’re gonna go get pizza for lunch, and then we’re gonna go shopping.”
“Pizza, wow. That sounds like a lot of fun.”
“Uh-huh, here’s Mommy…”
Indie came back on the line. “Well, that was short.”
“Yeah, I guess talking to Daddy takes a backseat to going for pizza. You guys have fun and be careful, okay?”
“Same to you, Babe.” They said goodbye and ended the call, and Sam turned into the parking lot of the Clearwater Police Department.
He showed his ID to the receptionist at the front desk and told her that he wanted to speak to Detective Lawton. She didn’t even bother to call ahead.
“Go through that door,” she said, pointing at a door to the right, “and he’s in the fourth office on the left.”
Sam smiled and thanked her, then opened the door and stepped through. His hip twinged as he did so, and he started to wish he had brought his cane along, but he had left it at home. Most days he could get by without it, and it hadn’t given him any problem in several days, so he just limped steadily along and bore through the pain.
Lawton was at his desk and didn’t look a bit pleased when Sam stepped through the door.
“I’d ask what I owe this pleasure to,” he said, “but seeing you is no pleasure. What do you want, Prichard?”
“You should have been notified by now that I’ve been appointed Special Investigator for the DHS on this case against Harry Winslow. I’m here to look at your case files.”
“Yeah, I got a phone call. You want to see my file? Fine, come on in and pull up a chair.” He picked up a folder from his desk and thrust it out at Sam. “That’s it, that’s the whole thing, and everything in it tells me your buddy is my killer.”
Sam took the folder, which was about an inch thick, and sat down in the same chair he had used the day before. “That’s what I’m here to see,” he said. He opened the folder and picked up the first sheet of paper, which was the initial report of the nine one one call.
Call received 12:41 PM from Mrs. Carolyn Garrett, 691 Bay Esplanade, who reported hearing gunshots from a neighboring house a few minutes earlier. Officers dispatched.
The
next page was the report of the two officers who had entered the house. They had arrived at 12:56 PM and approached the door, finding it standing ajar. Officer Mendez, the senior of the two officers, had knocked on the doorframe and called out announcing their presence, but received no response. He knocked again, announced their presence once more, and when no response was received, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. He announced once more that police officers were present and then both officers began walking into the house with weapons drawn.
The living room was clear, so they moved further. A door at one end of the living room led into what appeared to be a den, and the officers spent a couple of moments looking around, then went back to the living room to another door that led to a hallway. A door directly opposite was standing slightly open, so they pushed it further and looked inside at what looked like an office. There were two desks, each of which held a computer and stacks of papers, but there was no sign of any human presence. They backed out and moved through the hallway again, coming to the dining room, which was also empty.
As they approached the kitchen, both officers noticed a metallic smell, as well as the odor of recently fired gunpowder. At the kitchen door, they saw a male figure lying on the floor, and saw a large pool of blood spreading from the area of his head. Officer Conklin, the junior officer, stepped into the room and carefully approached the prone man, then reached down to feel for a pulse on his throat. It was at that point that he got his first look at the victim’s face, at which time he turned and ran out of the house to vomit on the front lawn.
Officer Mendez stepped forward and looked at the victim’s face as well, and it was his instant opinion that the victim was deceased. He called his dispatcher and reported finding what appeared to be a dead body, the probable victim of homicide, and requested instructions. He was told to secure the scene and wait for paramedics, detectives and crime scene investigators to arrive.