He took the papers from her, looked down at the important part. She was right. It was a long way over asking. Not quite into desert island territory, but he supposed they would have had to be careful about that. Still, it was a lot more than the place was worth. He didn’t recognize the name of the buyer. He supposed they would have had to be careful about that, too.
He handed the papers back to her.
“Tell Cunningham nice try.”
66
“We’re in a meeting, Counselor. This couldn’t wait?” Cunningham asked.
“No, it couldn’t.”
Laura leaned across Brent’s desk and handed him the papers. She’d blown right past Lori’s protests and walked straight into Brent’s office. Frank had just shrugged an apology at Lori and followed Laura inside. They’d both been surprised to find Cunningham sitting across from Brent.
“What is it?” Cunningham asked, turning back to face Brent.
Brent took his time reading, finally looked up at him.
“Stromberg,” Brent said. “The charges are dropped.”
“Let me see that.”
Cunningham reached across the desk. His outstretched hand hung in the air for a moment before Brent finally handed him the papers.
“Signed and sealed, Mayor.” Laura told him, “Nothing to do with you. Brent, I want Alex Stromberg released. Now.”
“You came in here for this?” Cunningham feigned surprise.
“Most important thing I can do today,” Laura snapped. “You’ve got the wrong man in there and I want him out.”
“Fine, Counselor.” Cunningham tossed the papers back onto Brent’s desk. “You’ve got what you wanted. Now you’ll have to live with the consequences, because Alex Stromberg on the street is an accident waiting to happen.”
“Is that your expert opinion as a former D.A.?” Frank asked.
“Actually, Frank,” Cunningham said. “It is.”
“That the way you felt about Tommy Nicholls? That why you put him away too?”
“I can’t remember every case.”
“Come on, Ed,” Frank chided, “I bet you remember this one. Every D.A. I ever knew remembered the big ones.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Not that long. Hell, even Henry Whittaker remembers it.”
“Whittaker?” Cunningham was recovering, surprisingly fast. “He’s a drunk. He was a drunk back then, too.”
“Maybe,” Frank conceded, “but he’s a drunk with a good memory.”
“If you’re talking about Vince Nicholls,” Cunningham looked unperturbed, “we already knew that.”
“When were you going to let the rest of us in on it? You really thought you could keep this quiet? People are dead because of what you and Landers and Harrison did to that kid. You and Strothwood’s leading citizens. They owned all of you and they wanted Tommy Nicholls gone. You gave him a fucking drunk for a lawyer and figured the rest would take care of itself.”
“People are dead,” Cunningham said, “because a career criminal and psychopath who just happened to be his brother went on some kind of misguided rampage.”
“It might have been a rampage,” Frank said, “but it sure as hell wasn’t misguided.”
Cunningham actually laughed.
“That’s the kind of reasoned and intelligent argument I’d expect from you, Frank. But then you and that boy’s brother have always solved things the same way, haven’t you? You kill people.”
The room plummeted into a frozen, shocked silence. Cunningham looked stunned by his own words. Frank could feel Laura’s eyes on him. Brent shifted his weight in his chair, maybe with intent, maybe not.
“Stand down, Brent,” Frank said. “I’m not going to go off on this piece of shit. I don’t have to. We already have enough to put him out of office.”
“You can speculate all you want,” Cunningham said, “but I don’t have time for conspiracy theories.”
“This is the United States of America, Ed. Everybody has time for conspiracy theories.”
“Okay, that’s it,” Cunningham said. “Brent, get them out of here.”
“No.”
“What?”
“You heard me,” Brent told him. “I should have said no years ago and I didn’t. This time I’m saying no.” He stood up and motioned for Laura to follow him. “Come on, Counselor. Let’s get your client out of here.”
Cunningham gaped as Brent and Laura walked out of the room. Frank looked down at Cunningham.
“Shut it down, Ed. Or we’ll shut it down for you.”
67
“Tell me something.”
Here it comes, Frank thought.
“Angela Lowry thinks she hears a prowler,” Wagner leaned back in the lawn chair, enjoying himself, “so she calls you instead of 911? How did that happen?”
“We, uh…”
“You, uh, what?”
“Fuck off, Jeff.”
“What is it with you?” Wagner barked a short laugh. “You get all bent out of shape about Adrienne Simmonds, then you start to come out of it, you finally decide to get out of this shithole, then all of a sudden you’re banging your real estate agent—”
“Not anymore.” Frank said. “Besides, it’s not like that.”
“The hell it isn’t. It’s exactly like that.” Wagner grinned. “Gee whiz, Moon Doggy, what are you, fifteen years old? You can’t keep it in your pants long enough to just get the fuck out of town?”
“Glad you think I’m so fucking funny.”
“Might as well laugh as cry. I warned you not to get sucked in.”
“I didn’t. It just happened, that’s all. Sorry if I didn’t take your advice.”
“Advice?” Wagner smirked. “I want a copy of your diet. I think you should go on the road and give seminars.”
A lot of things had happened in a hurry. Brent Williams hadn’t come back since he’d walked out of the office. Angie had feigned ignorance about whatever deal she’d made with Cunningham, but it didn’t matter. She’d lied by omission and they both knew it. Cunningham had gone MIA for a few days and then abruptly resigned.
“That’s it? He just walks?”
“It’s Cunningham, Jeff,” Frank shrugged. “Anything’s possible.”
“I talked to my buddy.”
“You have a buddy?” Frank asked, incredulous. Wagner chose to ignore him.
“We can move Henry back in a few days.”
“Think he’s going to try it again?”
“I doubt it. He didn’t try that hard in the first place.” Wagner said. “Otherwise I would’ve stuck him in the ER no matter what you wanted.”
Laura Henderson had been right. Regardless of what Frank and Wagner had thought of Whittaker, the Old Boys Club had kicked in. Wagner had gotten Jimmy Slade to move Whittaker to an upstate New York clinic run by an old classmate from med school. The whole thing had been off the books, no paper trail anywhere.
“When Henry gets back,” Frank said, “Laura may want to get a deposition from him.”
“Let me know if that happens. I want to sell tickets.”
Wagner heaved himself out of the lawn chair and fished his car keys out of his pocket, started toward his car.
“So have they offered you the job yet?” he asked.
“What job?”
“You know damn well what job.”
“Nobody’s offered me anything.”
“They will.”
“I thought you said I shouldn’t get sucked in.”
“You mean you were actually listening?” Wagner opened the car door and folded himself in behind the wheel. “You already know what I think. The bastards aren’t worth it.”
He didn’t wait for an answer, just started the car and backed out. Frank watched him go, thought about what he’d said. He knew Wagner was right. There’d been a lot of collateral damage, and while Ed Cunningham was responsible for most of it Frank didn’t think it ended with him. Too many people had been getting away wi
th too much for too long.
An echo from years ago came back to him, the words of some semi-crazed receiver coach at a Strothwood High School football practice, Crew-cut, gray sweats, and a messianic look in his eyes. Go Panthers. He was talking about slant routes, what to do when something went wrong, maybe a lineman got his hand up in time, and a lame-duck, wobbling pass came at you over the middle and you just fucking knew you were going to get smoked. Something like that, there was only one thing to do if you were going to hold your head up after it was over.
Look it all the way in.
Frank realized the FOR SALE sign was still standing. He started to pull it out of the ground and then stopped. Not yet. Be sure. He left the sign where it was. He was on his way back to the house when he glanced over at Billy’s place. He stood still for a moment, then changed direction and started across the field.
He had fences to mend.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Doug Sutherland is a producer, actor and director. JUSTICE is the third novel in his Frank Stallings series.
Learn more about Doug at:
https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0840083
ALSO BY DOUG SUTHERLAND
DANCER’S RAIN
(Frank Stallings #1)
THROWDOWN
(Frank Stallings #2)
Justice Page 23