Law and Murder

by Rusty Ellis

  35

  “I don’t envy the Warden having to clean up his own house. That’s difficult to ask for outside help and admit you have some dirty staff,” Leesa commented after hearing about Ransom’s conversation earlier.

  “That’s one of the reasons I respect the guy. He makes the right call, even when it’s the tough call,” Ransom responded.

  Leesa turned the corner onto Turing’s street. Ransom surveyed the street and spotted a familiar dark SUV a couple houses down from Turing’s. Ransom pointed to the vehicle and Leesa accelerated in its direction. A screeching sound filled the air as the SUV fishtailed away from the curb and away from the house.

  Ransom reached over and grabbed Leesa’s forearm, “We better check on the girl.”

  Leesa mashed the breaks and whipped around in front of Turing’s house. Before the car came to a stop, Ransom shoved the car door open and planted his right foot on the pavement. Ignoring the shot of pain from his knee, he rambled to the front door and pounded with his fist as Leesa hit the steps behind him. With no answer, Ransom rang the bell and pounded again.

  Through the door, a female voice called out, “Can I help you?”

  Leesa stepped in front of Ransom and held her badge up to the small peep hole in the door, “Metro, can we talk to you?”

  The door opened several inches and Sara’s face filled the gap, “What’s this about?”

  “Is your father home?” Leesa asked.

  “No, he already went to the office.”

  Ransom butted in, “Are you okay, Sara?”

  The girl was taken back hearing her name, “I’m fine…how did you know my name?”

  “Would you mind opening the door so we can see you’re okay?” he continued.

  “Uh, sure,” Sara opened the door wider for Leesa and Ransom to peer inside.

  Leesa took a short step into the house and verified there was no one else in the room.

  “You’re kind of scaring me. Why would something be wrong?” Sara stepped back from the door. The look on her face turned to fear as she asked, “Is my dad okay? Is something wrong with my dad?”

  “You’re dad’s fine,” Ransom tried to quell the young woman’s fears. “You went up to the prison the other day,” Ransom stated as a fact, more than a question.

  Sara nodded, confused about Ransom’s knowledge of her visit.

  “The man you visited was the one that killed your mother. Larry Foster,” again the comment was more of a statement by Ransom. “Foster’s dead.”

  Sara’s brow furrowed and her gaze drifted into the distance.

  Leesa let the gravity of Ransom’s comment sink in before adding, “We’re investigating some information surrounding your mother’s murder.”

  Sara stood stunned at the information she was processing and leaned heavy on the doorknob she was still holding.

  “Does my father know about all of this?”

  “Not yet,” Ransom shook his head. “We were trying to catch him at home.”

  “Well, like I said, he already went into the office.”

  “Okay, we’ll go over and talk to him there,” Leesa stepped back from the door.

  “Do us a favor and watch yourself,” Ransom quipped.

  “Watch myself?” Sara appeared confused by the advice.

  “Just be aware of your surroundings and don’t answer the door for anyone you don’t know,” he finished.

  “Uh, okay.”

  Sara closed the door and Ransom could hear the bolt being locked.

  “Turing’s office?” Leesa asked and walked back to the car.

  “Turing’s office,” Ransom answered and reached for the car door.

  36

  Gianni waited for Boots to open the front door of the restaurant and usher him in. The giant man looked tired, like he’d been woken up too early.

  “Don’t you look pretty this morning,” Gianni laughed at Boots.

  “I’d feel better if I could smack something this morning, like your head,” he grinned back.

  “I knew you missed me, Boots.”

  Boots grunted and followed Gianni over to Sartori’s corner table. The table was empty. Gianni could hear the clatter of pans and spatula’s in the kitchen. He stood behind his intended seat and waited for Sartori to arrive. Boots took his spot against the wall—a bookend waiting for its match.

  Jimmy made his way from the kitchen area to the table, followed by Sartori and Boots’ double. Jimmy waited for Sartori to sit and then he and Gianni took their seats. Sartori looked at the newspaper in front of him on the table and the other two men waited patiently for a cue to speak. Sartori shook his head as he glossed over the front page and then looked up at Gianni and nodded.

  “Sorry to bother you so early, Mr. Sartori.”

  “Mr. Sartori’s confident that it’s important, Gianni,” Jimmy answered. “What do you have?”

  Gianni began, “The problem at the prison is taken care of.”

  Sartori again nodded, a look of contentment on his face.

  “We have a problem with those two cops though,” Gianni looked at Sartori and waited for Jimmy to respond.

  “What type of problem?” Jimmy asked.

  “They stopped me and Tino the other day and shook us down in front of the lawyer’s house.” Gianni paused, then continued, “This morning they showed up again in front of Turing’s house but Rocks and Mikey were able to get out of there before they stopped them.”

  Sartori leaned back in his seat and glanced over at Jimmy. Jimmy turned to Gianni and waited for him to continue.

  “They’re getting too close. Asking too many questions. I wanna do something about it.”

  Jimmy looked to Sartori and saw the old man purse his lips and shake his head at the request.

  “We don’t need that kind of heat right now. Their questions will die out. It’s a dead end as long as people keep their mouth’s shut. We just need to…encourage people to keep quiet. Got it?” Jimmy explained.

  Gianni looked at Sartori and answered Jimmy’s question, “Yes, Mr. Sartori. Consider it done.”

  Gianni stood and excused himself from the table. Boots fell in behind him and followed Gianni back to the front door.

  “Good to see you, Boots,” Gianni offered over his shoulder.

  “Wish I could say likewise,” Boots grunted back.

  Gianni stopped in the lobby entrance before the front door, “You know, Boots. The old man ain’t gonna live forever. And with Val locked up, someone’s gotta run the family. Think about that.”

  37

  Ransom and Leesa walked into the lobby of Turing’s office and continued past the receptionist’s desk and her protests. They knocked on Turing’s open door and didn’t wait for a response.

  The secretary chased them through the door, “They just walked past me, Mr. Turing.”

  “It’s okay, Barbara. Could you shut the door, please?” Turing stood to greet Ransom and Leesa. The three sat down and Turing commented, “You went by my house and spoke with my daughter.”

  “Yes, we did,” Ransom answered. “We were hoping to catch you. Seems like you keep earlier hours than a normal attorney.”

  Turing shrugged off the comment and finished his thought, “You scared her half to death. Was there a reason for that?”

  “Seemed like a good idea, seeing it was the second time we chased off people watching your house,” Leesa shot back.

  The comment caught Turing off guard and he couldn’t hide the surprise written on his face.

  “So they weren’t bodyguards?” Ransom tossed the flippant remark at Turing. “If they weren’t bodyguards, then what were Sartori’s men doing there, Averett?”

  Turing was thrown off by the deluge of information. His eyes locked onto his desktop as he battled with the facts.

  “Oh, and one more thing,” Ransom pulled Turing’s attention from his desk. “Your daughter went and visited Foster at the prison the other morning. Foster was killed last night.”

&n
bsp; The mention of Foster pushed Turing over the edge and he stood up from behind his desk. He looked at Ransom and then at Leesa, a gaze of panic on his face.

  “You need to go!”

  Turing reached across his desk and grabbed a set of car keys sitting on a stack of papers. He looked to see Ransom and Leesa still sitting in their seats. He shook his head and walked briskly to his office door, grabbed his suit coat off the back of the door, and rushed past his receptionist’s desk without a word. Ransom could hear the sound of the front door flinging open and then closing again.

  “Think we got through to him?” Leesa asked and stood.

  “Looks that way. Now we just need to keep him from getting himself killed.”

  38

  Averett’s head was spinning as he drove down Highway 95 in the direction of Sartori’s restaurant. The simple decision to represent Sartori’s son was a critical mistake. What was originally a job opportunity, a chance to gain some headlines and boost his law office’s exposure, had turned sour. Everything the elder Sartori touched resulted in a never-ending maze of favors and a life of permanent servitude. With each passing court case related to Sartori’s empire, the hooks were driven deeper and deeper into Averett’s professional life and caused irreparable damage to his personal life. He needed out. He’d done his share and owed Sartori nothing in return. All debts were paid in full—from his vantage point.

  Averett grabbed his phone from his shirt pocket and dialed Jimmy’s number. The phone rang three times before the familiar mouthpiece to Moreno Sartori answered.

  “Mr. Turing, I’m glad you called. We have a job for you.”

  “We need to talk about that. I’m on my way there right now,” Averett was breathing heavy in anticipation of the proposed meeting.

  “That’s fine. We’ll talk when you get here,” Jimmy responded and hung up.

  Averett took a deep breath and returned the phone to his pocket. He wrestled with the pending conversation as he exited the highway and turned onto a surface street. He was going to end this. No more being at the beck and call of one Mr. Sartori and his crime family. He was determined to remove himself and his daughter from their world. After today, he and Sara would take some time off. Maybe go on a trip so they could spend some time together and reset their lives. Life would never be the same without his wife, but life needed to be better than it had been since her death.

  He turned into the parking lot of the restaurant and parked a row back from the front doors.

  I need to do this for Sara. I need to do this for me.

  Averett stepped from his car and could see a large shadow standing just inside the glass doors of the business. Drawing in a deep breath, he marched in the direction of the front door and the large man just behind it. As Averett reached the door, it whipped opened from the inside. Boots stood to one side to let Averett step inside.

  Boots looked down at Averett and then nodded in the direction he should walk. Averett walked through the maze of tables to where Sartori and Jimmy were sitting and eating. A second large man was stationed behind Sartori and was joined by Boots.

  Jimmy wiped his mouth and stood up to greet Averett, “Mr. Turing, thank you for coming.”

  He gestured for Averett to sit down and returned to his own seat.

  “Have you eaten already?” Jimmy questioned.

  “I’m fine, thank you,” Averett shook his head. His stomach in knots, the thought of food wasn’t even a consideration.

  Jimmy looked toward Sartori and watched as the elder man focused on his early lunch. Jimmy turned back toward Averett and slid an envelope toward him. Averett looked down at the envelope and back up to Jimmy.

  Averett cleared his throat and began, “I really appreciate the work Mr. Sartori’s provided me.” Averett turned his attention to Sartori and watched him continue to act as if he wasn’t paying attention to the conversation. “But, I’m going to have to decline.”

  A large bite of lasagna hung mid-air from Sartori’s plate to his mouth. His eyes worked their way up to Averett’s face. The look on Sartori’s face was as if he didn’t understand what Averett had just said.

  With Sartori staring at him, Averett continued, “Again, I’m very grateful for the work you’ve provided to me and my law office. I hope you’ve been satisfied with my work. I’ve tried to make myself available to you and your, uh, associates, as needed.”

  Averett watched as the fork in Sartori’s hand returned to the plate with the food still on it. Sartori’s eyes locked on Averett, though he kept quiet.

  The silence in the room compressed Averett’s chest. The air thinned as Averett’s anxiety rose. He broke Sartori’s gaze and looked at Jimmy. Averett’s hopes of finding some solace in Jimmy disappeared in seeing the blank stare he found. Jimmy reached out and pushed the envelope on the table closer to Averett.

  Averett kept his hands on his lap, “It’s not that I don’t appreciate working for you, but…”

  A resounding boom came from in front of Sartori. Averett’s head spun around to see Sartori’s fist had landed on the table and sent the nearby tableware air born.

  Averett sat stunned by Sartori’s reaction. He watched as the two men behind Sartori took a step forward and waited for Sartori’s instructions.

  “Take the envelope,” Averett heard to his right. He turned to see Jimmy’s head bobbing in a confident nod, “Take the envelope, Mr. Turing.”

  Without thinking, Averett’s hand reached out and his fingers wrapped around the envelope. He watched as his arm drew his clutched hand and the envelope toward himself.

  “The information you need is in the envelope,” Jimmy continued and looked back to his own meal on the table. “The initial hearing is this morning.”

  Averett looked to see Sartori picking up his fork off his plate and return to his meal as well. The man named Boots walked around the table to escort Averett back to the front of the restaurant.

  “And Mr. Turing,” Jimmy spoke up, “let’s just forget about the rest of our conversation today. It’s, well, safer that way. Have a good day, Mr. Turing.”

  Averett nodded and walked ahead of Boots to the door. He waited for Boots to unlock and open the door for him and stepped back into the late-summer sun.

  His plans to disconnect from the Sartori crime family were trampled and discarded in a manner of minutes. Averett looked down to see the envelope in his hand. His knuckles were white with the death-grip he had on the paper envelope.

  Averett trudged back to his car, his feet felt heavy, his shoulders pulled downward against his frame. The weight of the envelope tugged at his arm as he reached the car. He dropped down onto the hot leather seat and discarded the envelope into the center console cupholder. Averett glanced down at the envelope. The simple white sealed paper shell—a sickening chain connecting him to Moreno Sartori and his criminal enterprise.

  39

  Averett drove toward the Regional Justice Center located in the middle of old-downtown Las Vegas. He glanced several times at the envelope in the console, somehow hoping it would disappear, along with the stranglehold it had on him. Pulling off the highway at the Casino Center exit, Averett stopped at the red light next to the old transit center. He reached for the envelope and ran a finger across the top edge, tearing the seam. The top of the envelope popped open from the stuffed contents—a mixture of green bills and a white sheet of paper. He pulled the paper from the envelope and stuffed it into his shirt pocket. The money remained untouched and returned to the console.

  A car honked and startled Averett out of his numb state. He looked to see the light was now green and cars were moving around him. He pressed on the gas pedal and continued south toward the Justice Center. Reaching Lewis Avenue he turned left at the light and continued to the next block and into the public parking garage. The screech of tires sounded around him as cars battled for empty parking spots, their owners’ in a rush to get to the courthouse. Averett worked his way up to the third floor of the concrete garage and f
ound a spot in the back corner. He nosed his car into the shadowed spot and flipped the gearshift into park. He looked down again at the envelope and the money in the console. The green bills stood out against the contrast of the envelope. Averett grabbed his suit coat from the passenger seat and started to turn the car off. He stopped briefly and rolled down both front windows before turning off the key and climbing out of his car.

  An elevator to the first floor was close to where Averett had parked but he preferred to walk the extra distance to the stairway in the opposite corner. The stairs let out onto the sidewalk in front of the garage. Averett made his way to the corner near the traffic light to wait for the signal to change. The courthouse felt imposing, as if it were leaning toward him. The tall structure once represented excitement and the opportunity to defend clients. The thrill of protecting clients and challenging police procedure and evidence. No longer. Now it represented nothing more than an echoing building. A place to perform as a puppet for his captor.

  The red hand on the crosswalk sign flashed off and a white silhouette flashed in its place. A robotic voice sounded to encourage those waiting it was now safe to “walk” across the street in the imaginary safe-zone of the crosswalk. Averett gripped his suit coat in his left hand and followed the small crowd across the street and up the stairs to the courthouse. A line had formed outside the glass doors at a choke point where visitors went through the metal detectors. Averett joined the line, avoiding eye contact and any possible chance of questions from those around him heading to court as defendants.

  Averett reached the metal detector and removed his keys, belt, phone, and suit coat and placed them in a round dog-dish type container and onto the moving belt leading into the x-ray machine. He waited in line for the uniformed security officer to waive him through the rectangular machine. After taking his turn, he gathered his things from the plastic bucket and walked into the main foyer of the courthouse to put on his belt and jacket. Averett stopped and took a deep breath. The courthouse felt extra crowded to him. The sounds of attorneys giving last minute instructions to their clients as they passed by echoed off the shiny floor and bounced off the walls.