by S. D. Thames
Judge Sanders shook his head and glanced at the clock. “We’re already running late. I’m being gracious by permitting live testimony. Please proceed.”
I took the seat on the witness stand and listened carefully to the oath I was about to give, and then I promised to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God.
“Mr. Porter,” Mattie began. “Let’s cut to the chase. What exactly did you tell the representative of the SkyGate residence?”
“I showed him a copy of the statute, and I told him I had the right to gain access to the common areas.”
The judge leaned forward and started asking the questions. “Did you tell him the statute authorized your entry to Mr. Scalzo’s residence?”
I shook my head and answered. “I did not. Just the common areas. Once I was in the common area outside the residence, I knocked on the door.”
I was about to explain that this was irrelevant, since I hadn’t even served Scalzo at his condo, but before I could continue, the door to the courtroom slammed open and three figures marched to the front of the courtroom. They were led by a heavyset man in a wrinkled suit who was flanked by two taller men wearing ties but no suits. I felt uneasy when I realized who the man to the far right was: Lieutenant Chris Rodriguez. Known affectionately among his brethren at the Tampa Police Department as C-Rod, he was the last cop I wanted to see today—or any day, for that matter. Recognizing C-Rod, I realized the suited man looked familiar too, but I couldn’t place him.
Judge Sanders greeted the lead guy. “Good afternoon, Mr. Mitchell.” They exchanged nods. “Taking a break from the campaign trail?”
The judge’s quip helped me place the suit: Fred Mitchell, a senior prosecutor who was making a run to replace the retiring State Attorney for Hillsborough County. Mitchell seemed to blush. “Thank you, judge.”
Then Judge Sanders grinned in Dane Parker’s direction. “Perhaps you two could swap some campaign strategies afterwards.”
Mitchell and Parker exchanged awkward grins.
Then Judge Sanders straightened his posture and got back to business. He squinted at Mitchell and asked, “What interest does the State Attorney’s office have in this civil proceeding?”
I was pretty sure it had something to do with the two bloodied goons I’d left behind in Scalzo’s garage. Maybe Scalzo had called this hearing just to set me up. That would explain the bullshit argument his attorney had just made. Regardless, I was regretting being on the witness stand with no clear escape route.
Mitchell had a booming voice befitting a senior prosecutor. “I’m sorry to interrupt your hearing today, but these two gentlemen are with TPD. They have information they believe would be of interest to Your Honor and all present.”
“And?” Judge Sanders said, with obvious frustration.
“We understand this hearing is to quash a subpoena served on Mr. Scalzo yesterday?”
“That is correct,” Judge Sanders said.
“Well, in the interest of judicial economy, your honor should know that said motion is moot.”
Dane Parker stood again. “And why is that?”
Mitchell turned to Parker. “Because Chad Scalzo is dead.”
I think everyone in the courtroom gasped except me. I swallowed hard, still waiting to hear if there were other casualties, like two guys named Kiki and Jimmy. Then I wondered if I had done more damage the night before than I realized. Was there a chance Scalzo was still in the room when the shots were fired? I was sure I hadn’t seen him when I reviewed the damage, and I was just as sure I’d heard his car race off.
“What are you talking about?” Parker yelled. “He hired me just last night to file an emergency motion this morning!”
C-Rod stepped forward and asked, “When did you talk to him last?”
The pistons in Parker’s head were firing. I glanced at Mattie, and his were doing the same.
“We appreciate you letting us know that unfortunate news,” the judge said. Then he leaned back in his chair in contemplation. “And I expect you may have some questions for a few of the people in this courtroom.”
I expected the judge to glance in my direction, but he just removed his thick glasses and stared at the ceiling.
Parker looked lost. “Judge, may I be excused to make a phone call?” He pulled his phone out while waiting for the judge’s permission. Judge Sanders said that was fine, but then Parker looked up from his phone. “Um… I guess that’s not necessary. I have an email here from my office. One of Mr. Scalzo’s associates called my office half an hour ago and confirmed his death.”
“You mind sharing that with us?” Mitchell asked.
Parker shook his head. “You’re getting nothing from me today, Mitchell. You know the privilege survives death. Let me at least sort this out on my end.”
Mitchell turned back to the judge. “I’m joined today by Lieutenants Shields and Rodriguez. They’re investigating Mr. Scalzo’s death. And you’re right, Judge, they were hoping they might have a word with a few of the attendees when the hearing is over.”
“How convenient,” I mumbled under my breath.
C-Rod leaned forward, his gaze on me, and whispered in Mitchell’s ear. Mitchell’s eyes homed in on me too. “Your honor, they would like to speak first with Mr. Porter, whom we understand served Mr. Scalzo with a trial subpoena last night.”
Judge Sanders rested his temple on his index finger. He looked ready for a nap. “First,” he said, turning to Parker, “are we in agreement that your motion to quash is moot?”
Parker nodded for a moment, as though cautious that he was about to overlook something if he agreed. “I don’t know that’s it’s moot, Judge. Seems to me it should be quashed for a different reason. If he’s dead, the subpoena should be withdrawn.”
The judge nodded good point and looked to Mattie. “You agree to withdraw the subpoena?”
Mattie was caught with his pants down. He raised his hands and shook his head. “Your Honor, I’m sorry, we’ve had no time to corroborate the death. If somehow this is a mistake and Mr. Scalzo is alive, then we fully expect him to appear for trial.”
Mitchell filled his diaphragm with air for this one: “Your Honor, we’ve had two positive ID’s and the death certificate is signed and sealed. Mr. Wilcox is welcome to come to my office if he’d like to view some pictures. I’m sure we’d have some questions for him as well.”
Mattie shook his head. “No thanks. We’ll withdraw the subpoena.”
Judge Sanders nodded. “Then I will deny the motion as moot. Now, Mr. Mitchell—”
But Mattie wasn’t done talking. “Judge, in light of these events, I would like to request a continuance of the trial.”
Judge Sanders glared at Mattie. “Do not interrupt me, Mr. Wilcox. Your request is denied.”
Mattie’s face was turning red. “He’s a key witness in our case, and he was just murdered!”
Judge Sanders donned his glasses again to get a better look at Mattie. “What makes him a key witness?”
And who said anything about murder? I thought.
Mattie seemed to be biting his lip. It bothered me that he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, answer the question.
Judge Sanders shook his head. “Now, as to the state’s criminal investigation, I would like to request that it be taken outside my courtroom. My staff and I needed to prepare for an evidentiary hearing this afternoon.” By the looks of Sanders, that preparation probably was going to entail a nice nap.
The bailiff stood to attention. “This court is in recess. Please exit the courtroom.”
I took my time leaving the stand while the others exited the courtroom. Mattie waited for me at counsel’s table and grabbed my arm. “I need you, Porter.”
“I’m done with this case,” I said. “As soon as I get my other three grand.”
“Listen, name your price. We’ll pay it. I need to get to the bottom of this.”
I wanted to suggest he start with his own client. But th
e truth was, I wanted to get to the bottom of it too, mainly to see what the cops knew about what had happened the night before. “Name my price, eh?”
He nodded.
“I’ll have to think about it.”
We entered the hallway outside the door. The lawyers and detectives were still waiting, and all eyes were on me now. “Don’t think too long,” Mattie whispered, “or you’re liable to spend the night in jail.”
Mitchell and the detectives stepped in my direction. It looked like C-Rod was going to make the introductions.
I was ready to meet them too, but Mattie held me back and grabbed my elbow. “You know, you don’t have to talk to these guys right now.”
“I know.” Only I was just as eager to get information from them as they were from me, but there was no reason to explain that to Mattie, either.
Mattie whispered: “Don’t do this without a lawyer, Porter.”
I looked at him, saw the desperation burning in his eyes. “Are you volunteering to represent me?”
“I don’t do criminal law. But I can get a guy to go with you. Give me ten minutes.”
I told him no thanks. “In my experience, you guys just muddy the waters.”
I waved to C-Rod and stepped toward the firing squad. I was pretty sure I still heard Mattie’s stomach crying when I crossed the hallway.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Firing Squad
I’d gotten to know C-Rod’s partner, Lieutenant John Shields, a little better over the last half-hour. We met in a conference room—not an interrogation room like you see on TV, with mirrored windows and such, but the kind of place where I imagined Mitchell’s staff huddling up to discuss their big cases going to trial. Shields had been asking most of the questions while C-Rod just sat there glowering at me. I was relieved that they’d taken me to the State Attorney’s office and not the police department. Not that this was exactly neutral territory, but I figured there were fewer people here I might’ve crossed since arriving in Cigar City than at TPD.
Speaking of people I’d crossed, C-Rod suddenly stood up, filled his diaphragm with air, sighed, and left the conference room.
Shields watched his partner exit, and then turned to me. “So I understand you two have a past?”
I shrugged. “Is C-Rod still holding a grudge? He needs to get over it.”
“I don’t know, Porter—sounds like you really did a number on him. All those photos you took of him cost him big in the divorce.”
“I was just doing my job.”
Shields grinned. “You know what C-Rod would say to that? We’re just doing ours. But now that he’s not in the room, why don’t you tell me what really happened last night?”
He played the good cop well. Too well. In fact, I was having a hard time picturing C-Rod playing the bad cop this well. Maybe that was why he had stepped out.
Just then I realized the room we were in was probably designed and decorated to incite the relaxing of guards, and mine was already relaxed. “I think we’ve covered everything, Lieutenant.”
He didn’t seem to believe me.
“So, Lieutenant Shields, is that your real name?”
“Yeah, quite a name for a cop, isn’t it?” He studied me a beat longer. “So now that we got that out of the way, I think you have some gaps to fill in.”
“Really? Like where?”
“Well, for starters, you never mentioned anything about getting the shit beat out of you. You happen to moonlight as a cage fighter?”
I shook my head. “Two guys roughed me up last night. I still don’t know why.”
“You report this to the police?”
I shook my head. “Didn’t see any reason to. I was able to handle it.”
“Where’d this happen?”
“I think it was in Pinellas County, outside your jurisdiction.”
“You think?”
“I’m pretty sure. We were off Gandy.”
He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms and looked heavenward for a moment. It was a good look for him. C-Rod had a few inches on him in the height department, but Shields was the stockier of the two. I’d put my money on him in a fight, too.
He looked at me like he’d had an afterthought. “By the way, I saw you talking to that lawyer back there at the courthouse. You sure you don’t want a lawyer present?”
“You advising me of my rights?”
“I don’t think that’s necessary, unless you do. But sure, let’s say I’m advising you of your right to counsel.”
“Well, in that case, I think we’re fine.”
He took out a notebook and hunched over a few inches. “So let’s start from square one, then.”
“I served Scalzo with a subpoena last night, as he was finishing dinner. That’s really about all I know.” I was going to answer his questions as directly, and curtly as possible. I was hoping his follow-ups would tell me more about what I didn’t know. Like where Scalzo was killed.
“What time was that, when you served him?”
“About eight o’clock.”
“And where was that?”
“Armani’s.”
“Out by Rocky Pointe?”
I nodded.
“Very nice. I take my wife there sometimes for special occasions.”
I smiled, checked my watch and let out a little sigh to remind him I had things to do.
“I can see you’re a busy man. I’ll try to hurry. So, Armani’s. Was that the only time you saw Scalzo? What went down at his condo yesterday?”
“I was there in the morning, but Scalzo wasn’t.”
“What time was that?”
“Probably around ten-thirty.”
“Was anyone home?”
“There was a girl staying there.”
He looked up. “What kind of girl?”
“The working kind.”
He told me to describe her. I did the best I could, and felt a flutter as I did.
“Sounds like some girl. She have a name?”
I told him I thought it was Angie, and he wrote that down.
“Big tits?” he asked.
“I guess you could say that.”
“Kind of look like a porn star?”
“Sounds like you already know who I’m talking about.”
He nodded again. “So you were there to serve the subpoena?”
“That’s right.”
“She tipped you off where Scalzo was going for dinner?”
I shook my head. “She didn’t know. Just said they were going to dinner last night, somewhere special.”
He grinned. “And then you did your detective work.”
I nodded. “And found him at Armani’s.”
“Well done. I’m sure you’re being well-paid. Who was the attorney who hired you?”
I told him about Wilcox and the little I knew about the lawsuit. I figured most of this was stuff that he knew or should have known, and this was mainly an exercise to test my truth-telling.
“You didn’t return to Scalzo’s place after Armani’s last night?”
That piqued my interest. “I did not. But why do you ask? Is that where he was killed?”
He shrugged. “I suppose it’s public record now, but yeah, that’s where his body was found this morning.”
I took some relief that his body wasn’t found at the garage. I wasn’t going to bring that up and hoped the good detective didn’t go there, either. I shook my head in disbelief. I knew I was pushing it, but I decided to give it a try anyway. “So how’d he die?”
He smirked and said, “That’s not public record yet, I don’t think.” It was time for him to resume control. “So when you saw Scalzo at Armani’s, it was just him and this Angie?”
I shook my head. “There were two others there. Another woman, a blonde, and some buff, nerdy-looking guy with a ponytail.”
He was still taking notes. “The blonde, can you describe her a little more?”
“I didn’t get a good look at her, but to use
your term, she did look a little like a porn star, too. A lot like Angie, but she was probably ten years older, a little rounder. Maybe some plastic surgery around the edges.”
“So this Angie, then, what was she, about twenty?”
“I doubt a day older than twenty.”
“And the blonde?”
“Like I said, maybe thirty going on forty.”
“So, like the MILF type?”
“I guess you could say that.”
Just then, C-Rod returned with two cups of coffee. I didn’t have to worry about him poisoning me, because one cup was for him and the other for his partner. After Shields thanked him, C-Rod looked to me. “You didn’t want one, did you, Porter?”
Shields answered for me. “We were just talking about a MILF, C-Rod. Sorry you missed it.”
C-Rod’s eyes were burning hotter than the coffee he was holding.
Shields got us back on track. “So when you were at Armani’s, you didn’t see any other goons with Scalzo? Say, like a three-hundred pound Italian?”
I knew he was talking about Kiki, but I hadn’t seen him at Armani’s, so I shook my head.
“Is that a no?” C-Rod asked.
“That’s a no,” I said. “I didn’t see him at Armani’s.”
“You see him anywhere else?” C-Rod asked with a dead glare.
I answered his question but looked to Shields. “He stopped by the condo when I was leaving in the morning. I think he was taking Angie somewhere.”
“Where?” C-Rod asked.
“I think on a date,” I told Shields, who was still taking notes.
He set his pen down again. “Anything else you think we should know?”
“Like I said, I didn’t know this Scalzo guy. I just served him.”
“Just doing your job, right?” Shields asked like a good cop.
“That’s right.” I checked the time again. I was starting to feel claustrophobic, and maybe a bit anxious. I slid my card across the table. “Feel free to call me if you have any other questions, lieutenants. But if you don’t mind, I got a lot of work to do today.”
Shields picked up my card and read it carefully, as though searching for some hidden clue. “P-I-P. Porter Investigations and Process. That has a nice ring to it.” He dropped the card in his shirt pocket. “He must be a good investigator, eh, Chris?”