For Better or Worse

by Al Lamanda

  “It doesn’t matter what I see or don’t see,” Harry said. “It matters what a grand jury sees. Now, where did the fifty thousand in your garage come from and the money in the Cayman Islands?”

  “I don’t know,” Walt said.

  “‘I don’t know’ isn’t good enough,” Harry said. “The prosecutor is going to claim that you conspired with Jimmy DeMarko to import drugs into the U.S. and locally. That you took close to one million dollars as payment for allowing him such access, unimpeded.”

  “Oh, bullshit,” Walt said. “Wire me to a polygraph and let me prove it.”

  “A polygraph isn’t admissible in court,” Harry said.

  “But it holds weight with the newspapers and media,” Walt said.

  “I’ll arrange it,” Harry said. “Now I.A.D. has been working on this for months based on a tip from a C.I. that they refuse to give up. Would you have any idea who that C.I. might be?”

  “No,” Walt said. “I wouldn’t.”

  “What’s a C.I.?” Elizabeth said.

  “Confidential Informant,” Walt said. “And by the way, Jimmy DeMarko is dead.”

  “I’m well aware that DeMarko died of cancer three months ago,” Harry said. “But their case against you is strong, Captain. Very strong. Circumstantial, but strong. We have a lot of work to do to prepare your defense.”

  “Look, I’m going to say this one more time, you nincompoop, I am being set up,” Walt said. “By whom and for what reason, I have no goddamn idea. But I can tell you this much, find who set me up and why, or I’ll never see the light of day.”

  “Captain Grimes, this is going to be a long haul,” Harry said. “I suggest you ready yourself for that. Right now, I am meeting the district attorney in the judge’s chambers and then I’ll get back to you.”

  “Before you go, do you have a copy of the search warrant?” I said.

  “Yes,” Harry said.

  “May I see it?” I said.

  Harry opened his briefcase and dug out a copy of the warrant. I scanned it quickly. “The warrant is for the search of Walt’s home, car and office,” I said.

  “That’s right,” Harry said.

  “Walt’s garage isn’t attached to the house,” I said. “It was added on later and is a totally separate building. The warrant doesn’t cover the garage. I suggest you prepare a motion to suppress on the fifty thousand and present it to the judge. Of course, that’s just a suggestion.”

  Harry looked at me.

  “And see what you can do about bail,” I said.

  “Exactly what’s your part in this, Mr. Bekker?” Harry said.

  “I’m your second chair in Walt’s defense,” I said.

  “Are you an attorney?” Harry said.

  “You don’t need to be an attorney to do the leg work, just a licensed private investigator, which I am,” I said.

  Harry looked at Walt. “Is that okay with you?”

  “Jack is the best cop I’ve ever worked with, what do you think?” Walt said.

  Harry sighed. “I’ll be back after I see the judge,” he said.

  “Liz, I’ll drive you home,” I said.

  I walked out with Harry and Elizabeth. In the hall, I said, “Harry, serve the motion to suppress the fifty thousand to the judge and then request a more lenient bail. And make sure the district attorney is aware I’m employed by Walt to act as your investigator.”

  I dug out a business card and gave it to Harry. “Call me on my cell phone when you leave the meeting,” I said.

  Jane met us in the hallway and walked to my car.

  “I’ll be back later,” I told Jane. “Take care of Walt.”

  “Don’t worry, Elizabeth,” Jane said. “Walt is innocent. It will be proven in court.”

  Elizabeth nodded weakly.

  Jane looked at me.

  “See you in a bit,” I said.

  * * *

  Elizabeth sighed heavily on the drive to her house. “None of this makes sense, Jack,” she said. “I would know if Walt flew to the Cayman Islands, for Christ sake. His passport is expired, and I take care of all the bills. He would have had to pay for the ticket at the airport in cash and the hotel in Cayman, and never mind the fact I would have noticed he wasn’t home.”

  I glanced at Elizabeth. She was starting to come apart, and who could blame her? After being a cop’s wife for thirty years, just when Walt is about to pull the pin and retire, he’s arrested and faces life in prison.

  Instead of a retirement cruise, it’s a courtroom, facing charges.

  “What did they take from the house?” I said.

  “Besides that box from the garage?” Elizabeth said. “Our computer. The checkbook and financial records, other stuff from Walt’s desk, his cell phone and his guns.”

  “His car?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I turned down the block to Walt’s home and swung into the driveway. The garage door was open and Walt’s car was inside.

  “I’ll make a pot of coffee,” Elizabeth said.

  * * *

  We sat at the kitchen table with mugs of coffee.

  “We paid the mortgagee off two years ago, remember?” Elizabeth said.

  “I remember,” I said. “You had a barbeque to celebrate.”

  Elizabeth sipped from her cup and looked at me over the rim. “Do you think Walt did this?” she said.

  “Not in a million years,” I said.

  “Who is Jimmy DeMarko?” Elizabeth said.

  “He was a drug runner and button man for the Crist crime family,” I said. “Walt tried to make a case against him for years. So did the feds, but nothing ever stuck. DeMarko got cancer and died about three months ago.”

  “Why do they think Walt had anything to do with this DeMarko?” Elizabeth said.

  “We’ll have to wait for the motion of discovery to find out,” I said.

  Elizabeth looked her question at me.

  “When evidence is exchanged,” I said.

  There was a sudden rush of noise outside the house, and I went to the window to see what it was.

  “Pack a bag, Liz,” I said. “Those reporters are going to camp out on your doorstep otherwise.”

  “Where am I going?”

  “My house.”

  “I can’t do…”

  “Pack,” I said. “Or you won’t be able to pick up the mail without fifty reporters following you to the door.”

  Elizabeth packed a large suitcase and twenty minutes later, we were seized upon by a horde of newspaper and television reporters. While they shouted questions at us, no one blocked our path to the car.

  Then, as I opened the car door for Elizabeth, a reporter grabbed her arm. “Mrs. Grimes, can you…” he managed to say before I grabbed his arm, twisted it behind his back, and tossed him to the lawn.

  Everybody shut up then, and I was allowed to get behind the wheel and drive away unscathed.

  * * *

  Regan rushed to the door when I walked in with Elizabeth’s suitcase.

  “Dad, it’s all over the news,” she said. She saw Elizabeth behind me and hugged her tightly for a moment. “How could they do this?”

  “Regan,” I said. “Go to my room and change the linen. Elizabeth is staying with us for a while.”

  Regan nodded and dashed off to my room.

  “Liz, make yourself comfortable,” I said.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she said. She grabbed her suitcase. “I’ll help Regan.”

  I went and sat down next to Oz on the sofa. He had muted the sound on the television, but the local news station was running the story on Walt.

  “Is this shit for real?” Oz said.

  “It’s a set up,” I said.

  “They talking about some dead gangster Jimmy DeMark
o,” Oz said.

  “I know. Turn it off for a while,” I said.

  “Liz sleeping in your room, where you gonna sleep?” Oz said.

  “The daybed in the basement,” I said. “But right now I have to get back to Walt.”

  “Should I dig out my old shotgun?” Oz said.

  “Hell no,” I said. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “You say that now,” Oz said. “Sooner or later somebody show up with a gun.”

  “Make yourself useful and fix Elizabeth and Regan some lunch,” I said.

  Oz picked up his cell phone off the coffee table.

  “What are you doing?” I said.

  “Fixing lunch,” Oz said.

  “I mean in the kitchen,” I said.

  “You fix your way, I fix mine,” Oz said. He held the phone to his ear. “Yeah, I’d like to order two large pizzas,” he said.

  Chapter Four

  On my way to the county jail, I stopped by Pat’s Donut Shop and picked up four coffees and eight donuts. Harry called my cell phone, and I told him I would meet him in Jane’s office.

  While Harry, Jane and I waited in Jane’s office for Walt to be transported from lockup to the interview room, we ate donuts and drank coffee.

  Since Jane was responsible for Walt as a prisoner, there was no mention of Walt’s case or Harry’s meeting with the judge.

  Jane munched her donuts, and then lit a cigarette as she sat behind her desk.

  “You can’t smoke in here,” Harry said.

  Jane blew a smoke ring at the ceiling. “I know,” she said.

  A deputy knocked on the door and then opened it. “Captain Grimes is in the interview room,” he said.

  “Play nice, you crazy kids,” Jane said and blew another smoke ring.

  As we followed the deputy, Harry said, “She’s…”

  “Yeah, she is,” I said.

  “She scares me,” Harry said.

  “Me, too.”

  Walt was wearing the clothes Elizabeth brought him in the shopping bag, but he needed a shave. I gave him the coffee and two donuts.

  “So, let’s hear it,” he said, as he bit into a donut.

  Harry opened his briefcase. “The judge agreed to the motion to suppress the fifty thousand found in the garage. He also reduced bail to two hundred and fifty thousand, but with the stipulation you wear an ankle monitor if you make bail.”

  Walt sipped some coffee and then said, “I’d have to put up my house to make that kind of bail.”

  “The case against you will be about the six hundred thousand in the Cayman Islands,” Harry said. “The bank identified you out of a photo lineup presented by the FBI and the C.I. who tipped off Internal Affairs.”

  “Who is this C.I.?” Walt said.

  “I’m going to have to subpoena him to appear at the grand jury,” Harry said.

  “So an unknown C.I. tips Internal Affairs that I’ve been working with Jimmy DeMarko to import drugs—who happens to be dead at the moment—and I’ve gone to Grand Cayman on an expired passport to hide six large and leave fifty large in my garage for anybody to find, is that about it?” Walt said.

  “I admit it sounds comical on the surface, but there is no way around the six hundred thousand in your name in that Cayman bank,” Harry said. “Even if we can discredit the C.I. who ties you to DeMarko, there is no way around that money. Unless you can explain it somehow that makes sense.”

  “I can’t,” Walt said. “Because it doesn’t make sense.”

  Harry shook his head. “I’ll be honest with you, Captain Grimes, I’m not good enough to win this case. You need Johnny Cochran or that guy in Vegas with the cowboy clothes. Somebody in that league, which I am not.”

  Walt sighed heavily. “My pension, if I collect it, is about sixty thousand a year,” he said. “Before they seized our bank accounts, we had about fifty thousand in savings, and after putting our daughters through college, we’re lucky to have that. How much would the guy in the cowboy clothes cost me?”

  “His retainer is about two hundred thousand,” Harry said. “Five hundred for a billable hour. Seven fifty for a courtroom hour.”

  “It’s a good thing Jack works for free,” Walt said.

  “Harry, when do you get evidence?” I said.

  “Sometime tomorrow,” Harry said.

  “Who is lead prosecutor?” I said.

  “Tom Napier,” Harry said. “And he’s a total prick when he smells blood in the water.”

  “I know him,” I said. “Call me when you have the evidence.”

  I stood up and looked at Walt.

  Walt nodded.

  “Where are you going?” Harry said.

  “Don’t do anything until I get back,” I said.

  I walked to the door, opened it and walked out.

  * * *

  “Where are you going?” Regan said as she watched me pack a bag.

  “To get some help,” I said.

  “How long will you be gone?”

  “Hopefully just one day.”

  I carried my bag to the living room where Oz and Elizabeth were on the sofa. Molly was on Oz’s lap. Cuddles the pug was sleeping against Elizabeth’s leg.

  “Where you going?” Oz said.

  “To try to get some help for Walt,” I said. “Liz, try not to worry.”

  I looked at Regan. “No more pizzas for Oz, okay.”

  “I ain’t eating no celery and carrot sticks,” Oz said. “Or that hummus garbage.”

  “You’ll eat what I tell you to eat,” Regan snapped. “And you’ll like it or next time you can do CPR on yourself.”

  Oz looked at me. “You going to let her talk to me like that?”

  “Work it out while I’m gone,” I said.

  Oz looked at Regan. “Two out of three on Game of Thrones.”

  “Bring it, old man,” Regan said.

  Chapter Five

  I flew into Miami and then rented a car and drove to the Crist Mansion in Boca Raton.

  It was close to nine in the evening when I arrived.

  Eddie Crist, a powerful mobster, left half of his estate to his only daughter, Campbell, and the other half to charity.

  Campbell’s half was just north of a hundred million, plus the Boca mansion and the mansion back home, a dozen cars, and a private jet.

  A few years ago, Crist helped me get sober when he hired me to find who murdered my wife. He’d always insisted it wasn’t him, as I was investigating his crime family at the time. After my wife’s murder, the case—and I—fell apart. Crist was responsible for putting me back together.

  The top prosecutor at that time was Carly Simms. I’d known her for a number of years. She fell on hard times when she was accused of murder after a night of drinking. I helped find the real killer, and while doing so, I stashed her at the Crist mansion.

  The next thing I knew, Carly and Campbell were an item. It surprised the hell out of me, and them, but who am I to judge people’s happiness when it’s in such short supply?

  Since then, we’ve kept in touch, and I occasionally worked together with Carly, as she still practices law.

  The gates of the mansion were locked up tight. An armed bodyguard was in the guardhouse, and he came out to talk to me behind the gate.

  “John Bekker to see Miss Crist and Miss Simms,” I said.

  “It’s after nine,” he said.

  “Call up, they’ll see me,” I said.

  * * *

  “Oh, look, Carly, it’s a man,” Campbell said, as she greeted me with a hug.

  Campbell was around forty-two now, but still a knockout blonde. She took my hand and led me to the massive living room where Carly held a one-year-old baby girl on her lap. The baby was sucking from a glass bottle full of milk.

 
Carly looked at me. “The answer is no,” she said.

  “Oh, dear,” Campbell said and sat beside Carly.

  “I haven’t asked anything yet,” I said.

  “That eighty-four-inch television on the wall there gets the same news as yours does,” Carly said. “Walt is fucked and you’re here for help. Is that your question?”

  “Yes.”

  “The answer is still no,” Carly said. “I have this diaper full of baby poop to worry about.”

  “We have two nannies,” Campbell said.

  Carly shot Campbell a look.

  “Two nannies or twelve, the answer is still no,” Carly said. She set the empty bottle on the coffee table, and put the baby over her right shoulder to burp.

  “Walt helped you make a lot of good cases,” I said.

  “Walt is a cop. It’s his job to make good cases,” Carly said.

  Campbell smirked at me. “Better try a new approach,” she said. “Carly is in one of her bitchy moods.”

  “Call me a bitch again and I…” Carly said.

  “Tom Napier,” I said.

  Carly snapped her head toward me. “What? What did you say?”

  “I didn’t call you a bitch,” Campbell said. “I said you were in a bitchy mood.”

  “No, Bekker. What did you say?” Carly said.

  “Tom Napier is prosecuting the case against Walt,” I said.

  Carly shook her head. “Napier is a…” Carly said.

  “There is a difference, you know,” Campbell said.

  “What are you talking about?” Carly said.

  “What are you talking about?” Campbell said.

  “Ladies, you’re giving me a headache,” I said. “Can we please stick to one topic at a time?”

  Carly handed the baby to Campbell. “She needs to be changed.”

  “Why give her to me? Give her to the nanny,” Campbell said.

  “At least take her to the nanny,” Carly said.

  Holding the baby at arm’s length, Campbell left the living room.

  “That prick Napier! About five years ago, he was my second chair on a murder case,” Carly said. “He was more interested in getting between my legs than prosecuting the case.”