After a safe period, Tony returned to the office building. He knocked again on the door to Gross's suite. This time he heard a gruff response to his knock. "You Paul Gross?" he asked after he pushed open the door.
"Who wants to know?"
"Phil Johnson," Tony said, limping in the direction of the man's desk. "Can I sit? I can't stay on my leg very long."
"What's the problem?"
"I had surgery on my knee, and it didn't turn out so good. A little lady at the hospital suggested you might be able to help me find a real good attorney so I can sue the bastards?"
"What lady?"
"Real pretty. Said her name was Dori."
"Have a seat. I'm sure I can help you."
Tony fabricated details of a failed surgery as Gross took notes. "Mr. Gross, the lady said the place to start was to see you. I was going to just call a lawyer from the yellow pages, but she seemed to know what she was doing."
"Yes, yes she does. She often refers cases to me, and I help the client select the right counsel for the job. I act as a kind of screening service. Some attorneys are better at certain types of cases than others."
"Okay, yes sir. I understand that."
"What I don't understand is usually Dori gives me the client's name, and I give them a call at their home, see them there. I hate to have someone who's sick be inconvenienced by coming here."
"She told me. I didn't want anyone coming to my house. I live in a small efficiency with my old lady. She'd get pissed at the interruption. Besides if I get some money, I may ditch her anyway. Don't like her much anymore. Didn't she tell you I was coming? She said she would tell you this morning."
Gross smirked. "I must have distracted her, and it slipped her mind." He studied Tony for a few seconds. "Now, I assume you want an attorney who'll take the case on the come."
"I don't have any money to pay him if that's what you mean. The lady said you'd know who would take their share after I win the case. No money for me, then no money for them."
"That's the whole idea." Gross slumped in his chair.
"Who's the attorney you recommend?"
Gross sat up straighter, then said, "Not so fast. I'll call them and discuss your case. If they think it has merit, and I'm sure it does, I'll give you a call. What's your number?"
"Will you call me either way?"
"Sure. Why not?"
Tony supplied his cell phone number for the return call and limped out of the office. After riding the elevator to the main floor, he checked his watch, then jogged across the parking lot. As he stepped up into the van, he glanced back at the building. Gross stood in front of his fourth floor office window.
Busted, Tony thought. He smiled. It didn't matter. He had most of the information he needed.
***
Tony turned north and made his way through heavy traffic, hitting almost every light. He called the Sawgrass Medical Center and reported to Eva Grear in administration. She promised to deal with Dori and called him back twenty minutes later to tell him the issue was resolved. He felt he had accomplished something worthwhile.
Tony had plenty of time to call Howard since he didn't get a break with the traffic. Howard answered his cell phone on the first ring, and Tony filled him in on Paul Gross. "And," Tony continued, "Dori Grilley admitted her part in the scam and included the fact they did the very same thing for a number of years at almost every hospital in town. The hospital will explore their legal options and will, no doubt, press charges against both Gross and Grilley."
"That's very interesting. However, it doesn't have anything to do with the murder case."
"Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't. It would be interesting if the dead attorneys were ambulance chasing and using Gross as their agent to stay at arms length from the initial conversations." Tony turned right onto Sunrise Boulevard.
"If Valentine and Henninger's firm didn't play straight with Gross and Grilley, it would mean that they had motive to get revenge on the firm," Howard said.
"Who knows? I'll check around. It doesn't seem like much of a motive for murder to me. Gross could turn them into the Bar or to the hospital. He could terrorize them. He could blackmail them. There's any number of options short of murder, and I'm sure Gross knows them all. Merda, he's a slimy bastard."
"Meanwhile, I talked to the Medical Examiner," Howard said. "You were right . . ." The cell phones crackled in unison. "You'll never believe with what."
"Howard, you're breaking up. I'll never believe what?"
"Hang on a minute." The cell phone continued to crackle then fell silent. "Okay, I'm away from the wires. Now, as I said, you were right. It appears someone poisoned Henninger, and you'll never believe with what."
"Oh? Tell me more."
"It was murder by potato."
"Mi scusi? Potato?"
"That's what I said. Of course, the results are just preliminary. He has to get the official report from the reference lab. The ME said the poison was Solanum tuberoscum, which has a toxicity level of five, the highest level there is."
"You're not making sense."
"Neither was the ME, but it seems unripe potato greens, berries, and sprouts are highly poisonous. The ME said it was similar to nightshade. That doesn't mean anything to me, though."
"That I understand. Go on."
"Anyway, ingestion causes burning and rawness in the throat, vomiting, diarrhea, cerebral edema, convulsions, coma, and death. The reaction begins within fifteen minutes."
Tony knew Howard read from notes. "That fits the picture."
"From what was left in his stomach, which was very little, and from what was found on the bathroom floor, the ME thinks he had a health food salad—heavy on the sprouts. The potato sprouts and greens were obviously added deliberately."
"What else did the ME say?" Tony cornered onto Ocean Drive. He'd be at Ocean View Medical Center in minutes.
"He also identified fried parsnips. The ME said Henninger must have eaten at a restaurant, because fried parsnips aren't a common home cooked item, not for a busy bachelor in any event."
"Maybe he was a gourmet cook experimenting with his ingredients."
"No, I went along with the medical examiner's men to check out Henninger's house. No evidence of food preparation. We found several charge card receipts for the fancy health food joint in the same strip mall as King Beverages.
"We checked with the owner. He said Henninger ate there often. He remembers the night he died. Henninger had ordered a drink, and when the owner brought it to the table, Henninger was gone. Courtney, that's the owner's name, said it was unusual for Henninger to leave without the exchanging of pleasantries. He'd linger over his after dinner tea and chat with staff or do paperwork."
"Is that a fact? I know the place. In fact, Jen and I eat there once in a while. It's in our neighborhood."
"Sure is. I eat there myself. There was a new man working that night. The guy didn't show up for work the next day, or since. We're looking for him now."
"What about Iglesia?" Tony punctuated his question with a raised finger.
"The paralegal was full of cocaine. Again, we'll have to wait for the tox report to see if there is anything else unusual. I'll let you know what comes up."
Tony clipped his telephone back on his belt and pulled into the parking lot of OVMC. He was on time for lunch with Jennifer.
Sixteen
The weekend hadn't produced any new leads. Now, it was Tuesday, and Howard was frustrated. "Damn it, Alfonzo, this case is getting thicker. Every time we start to make progress we find a new angle."
"How so?" Alfonzo stuffed what was left of a jelly donut into his mouth. A dollop of strawberry jam stuck to his chin.
Howard tossed a napkin across the narrow corridor dividing their cubicles. It landed next to Alfonzo's coffee cup. "Before you left for the donuts, I told you Tony raised some compelling questions about the deaths of a couple of lawyers downtown last year. Gould had an apparent heart attack and Atkins died in a rape attempt
."
"People die all the time. I don't get the connection."
"They were both working on malpractice cases at the time they died—suing physicians. Just the same as with the lawyers out here."
"How did you get the information so fast?"
"Tony called a few minutes ago. He told his wife about his discovery, and she remembered reading about the deaths in the paper when they happened. And, she recalled a couple of the surgeons discussing it over a patient's gall bladder surgery. They sounded pleased because the counsels' untimely departures screwed up the cases, but the doctors lost anyway when the trials resumed."
Tony and Howard had agreed plaintiff's lawyers dying in the midst of the case was an interesting coincidence. However, the question of murder hadn't been raised with the Gould case. The medical examiner's opinion was Gould died of natural causes. Howard checked with the Assistant State Attorney, who verified the case was closed.
"Epstein, if you'd quit talking to Conte, we'd arrest Thorne and be done with it. While we're at it, I think I'll arrest Conte for obstruction of justice." He grabbed the napkin and wiped his chin, then laughed. "I think we need to find out about the two thugs, DiGiovanni and Backus, Polter told us about. They could have a motive to do Kelsey and Valentine."
"Okay, but they'd have no motive for Henninger and less of a motive for Iglesia. I've pretty much taken them off the list." Howard used his napkin to dab the clean corners of his mouth, then folded it with corners aligned and laid it on his desk.
"I've been giving it more thought. Maybe they were paid."
Howard rose to his feet, then sat back down. "We don't know Iglesia was murdered. All we know is he had a load of cocaine in him when he crashed." He reached for the piece of paper in his in-box, a faxed report from the parole office, and read it.
Rocko DiGiovanni and Jimmy Joe Backus lived at the same address but had different parole officers, so no one picked up on the association. An abbreviated summary of the circumstances surrounding their convictions and subsequent imprisonments followed.
DiGiovanni and an unknown accomplice roughed up a couple of men. DiGiovanni got carried away and beat the men to within an inch of their lives. DiGiovanni claimed he was paid to deliver the beating, but there was no proof, other than his statement, to connect him with his alleged employer. The report didn't mention the contractor's name. Backus was driving drunk, crossed the median, and killed an elderly couple on their way home from church.
"Let's have a chat with them," Howard said.
Alfonzo slipped on his jacket. It was cold outside again. The weather report predicted the temperature wouldn't rise above sixty degrees.
Howard straightened his light wool suit coat. "What are you, a weather wimp? The way you all dress down here, you'd think there was snow on the ground."
"Just move your ass, Epstein. Soon enough your blood will thin, too, and you'll have a sweater on under your fancy dan jacket."
"Never."
"Right. You driving?" Alfonzo asked as they walked across the parking lot in the direction of Howard's department issued Ford Taurus. "Unless you want to go in my car." He pointed to his personal wreck.
"You don't think I'd go all the way across town in that wreck of yours, do you?"
"Just askin'. It's working fine. The doors open. Mechanic says I'll get another hundred thousand out of it, easy."
"Pushing?" Howard laughed at his own joke. "Let's go." He tossed the keys in the air and caught them.
DiGiovanni and Backus' address was south of Atlantic Boulevard near Crest View High School. The neighborhood was rough and both men patted their holsters to make sure they were in place. Alfonzo knew the area. His years as an undercover narcotics officer had afforded him ample opportunity to become familiar with most of the blighted areas in the county.
Howard hung a left at a convenience store. The barred door stood open to customers, and permanent black bars blocked the front windows. The shopkeeper never raised them for the day's business. Several tall, muscular youths clustered on the corner in front of the store and watched the unmarked Taurus drive by.
"I know a couple of those guys." Alfonzo motioned to the young men. "One I busted just before I transferred out of narcotics. The other one was my snitch. Drive around the block the other way, and we'll have a chat with them. The address we want is down that street." He pointed. "Maybe they've seen the guys we're looking for."
Howard did as directed, and Alfonzo waved and smiled at the youths through the open window. A flash of recognition crossed their faces as one or two returned the greeting. Howard waited in the car while Alfonzo asked a few questions.
"Okay, turn at the next corner," Alfonzo said, climbing into the car. "Pauli, there, says these guys are mean muthers. Bad-assed attitudes. And that's coming from one bad-assed, mean muther himself. The building is down the street, left side."
Howard parked in front of a cluster of one-story buildings, appearing to house small one-bedroom apartments, each with a door and window in front and another door and window in the rear. An old Chevy sat on blocks in the grass. There were no cars in the parking area. A few dark, unkempt-looking children and their teenage mothers gathered around a concrete table in an overgrown courtyard.
While Alfonzo walked to the back of the building, Howard knocked on the front door of DiGiovanni and Backus' apartment. There was no answer, and the door was locked. Howard looked in the windows. No one was there.
Alfonzo approached the young women, flipping open his badge when he got close. He pointed to the apartment. "Have you seen the two men who live there?"
A heavy-set girl with a too-small stretch top said, "Not lately. We're happy 'bout that, too."
"Why is that?" Alfonzo said.
"They's mean. Yell at my kids."
"When's the last time you saw them?"
"Ah, last week."
Another young mother spoke up. "I thinks they left town. They be talkin' 'bout going to Georgia."
"What do they drive?" Alfonzo said.
"First that Chevy over there. Someone took the tires off of it after the mens left. Then they showed up in a new pick-up truck," the heavy-set girl said.
After asking several more questions and getting no new information, Alfonzo put a business card in the girl's hand. "Give us a call if they show up again."
The girl offered a tight-lipped grin and slid the card into her cleavage.
"How would those two get a new truck?" Howard said, tightening his seat belt.
"Maybe they saved up their coin?" Alfonzo slouched in the seat.
Howard started the car and backed into the street. "Seriously, they both had minimum wage jobs. What did they do, steal it? Or, maybe they're taking contract work and beating people up. We know DiGiovanni is capable, and Backus is hanging out with him."
"Now, that's a thought." Alfonzo waved and smiled at the youths. The group didn't appear to have moved in the interim.
"Where to now?" Howard headed west on Atlantic Boulevard. "We'll need a warrant to search that apartment and car. But first, I'd like to stop and talk with Iglesia's wife again. When we were there after the funeral, she wasn't making much sense."
"Has anyone talked to her about the autopsy report?"
"I told the ME we'd handle it," Howard said.
"You volunteer for all the best assignments." Alfonzo scrunched lower in the seat and wrapped his arms across his chest.
Howard closed the car window and cranked up the heat in the car. The day hadn't warmed and he was cold, though he didn't want to admit it to Alfonzo. "I turned on the heat for you."
"I appreciate it, man. It sure is cold lately. I thought I'd freeze my balls off this weekend working in the back yard."
"Yard work. Now that's a concept. I think I'll live in apartments forever."
Howard turned south off Oakland Park Boulevard into the older neighborhood called Sunrise Lakes. Most of the homes were vintage sixties and needed work. He found the Iglesia residence without difficul
ty. Two small children played amidst overgrown grass and weeds in the fenced side yard.
"Coke habit," Alfonzo mumbled, sliding out of the car.
Alfonzo knocked on the screen door. When a young woman, Maria Iglesia, approached the door, he flashed his badge and introduced himself and Howard. "We'd like to talk to you, please. Can we come in?"
"All right." She unhooked the screen door, pushed it towards them, then stood against the wall as the two men walked in.
Howard glanced around the room. Unlike the yard, it was neat, clean, and smelled of lemon. Though sparse, some of the furniture looked new. Expensive stereo equipment filled one wall, and glossy tile covered the floor. He sat on the opposite end of the sofa from Alfonzo. "Ma'am, we've received the report from the medical examiner about your husband's death."
"He was killed in a car accident. Why bother to come here to tell me what I know?"
"There's more to it," Howard said, his voice soft and gentle. "The medical examiner found high levels of cocaine in your husband's blood."
"That's not possible." Maria Iglesia's face flushed red, but her demeanor remained calm. "Juan was an addict, but he quit using two years ago. He went to Narcotic Anonymous meetings three times a week, and he passed a random urine test a few days before the accident."
"Ma'am, there's no question about the coke in his system when he died," Howard said.
"Then he must have been murdered. Someone forced it into him." She stood. "It's your job to find out who killed my husband. I have two little kids, I'm pregnant, and my husband is dead. Find out who did it. I deserve that much." She squinted and wiped at a tear.
Howard waited to be sure Mrs. Iglesia could continue the interview. "Did he have any enemies?"
"Not that I know of. He was a good man. He had been in debt to his dealer, but he paid it off. The phone calls quit coming, so I know he paid it all."
"Had the dealer ever threatened him?"
"Sure, all the time. He'd call in the middle of the night and threaten to kill Juan, and me, and the kids. Juan sold everything to get the money, my car, all the yard equipment, my engagement ring, his wedding ring. He found a buyer for the stereo and some more of the furniture, but then his father gave him the rest of the money."
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