The Devlin Deception: Book One of The Devlin Quatrology

by Jake Devlin

  As they passed the Incontinentals, Jake nodded to them, and a few waved back. But all of them leered at Pam.

  “Pam, ever hear the one about the Buddhist who went up to a hot dog stand?”

  “Nope,” Pam said, twining her arm around Jake's.

  “He said, 'Make me one with everything.'”

  Pam laughed and they continued up the beach, heads turning as they went along.

  Back by the Collier boardwalk, the Mimosa twins switched their recording equipment off and went back to be-bopping and towel- dancing to the music on their earbuds.

  -47-

  Monday, December 19, 2011

  9:00 p.m.

  The White House, Basement

  Washington, DC

  In the cellblock, the four union bosses were still rummaging in the remnants of the platter of sandwiches that had been delivered by one of the silent guards a few hours earlier, when a heavy door clanged open and closed.

  Then they heard a noise of casters rolling and water sloshing, followed by a male voice humming unmusically.

  Richard got to his feet and walked quietly to the cell door, looked out to his left and said, “Hey, kid.” He got no response. He tried again, louder.

  “Hey, kid!” Still no response. So he yelled and banged an empty soda can on the cell bars.

  “Hey, hey, hey, kid!!!!!”

  Twenty feet away, a young man mopping the floor jumped, looked at Richard and screamed, dropping the mop.

  “Wh-wh-what are y-y-y-ou d-d-doing? No-b-b-body's su-p-p-posed to b-b-be in h-h-here.”

  “Take it easy, kid, easy. We're not gonna hurt you.”

  “B-b-but who are y-y-you?”

  “We've been prisoners here for days.”

  “Gee, that's t-t-too b-b-bad. At least y-y-you've g-g-got the b-b-best cell, p-p-private b-b-biffy and all. B-B-But y-y-you s-s-sure s-s-scared m-m-me.”

  “What's your name, kid?”

  “J-J-Jimmy, Jimmy C-C-Corn. And d-d-don't m-m-make n-n-no cracks ab-b-bout it, ok-k-kay?”

  “Okay, I won't, promise. So Jimmy, what are you doing here?”

  “I c-c-clean up every M-M-Monday. N-N-Nobody here l-l-last w-w-week. N-N-Nobody here, nobody here. Oh, I'm g-g-gonna g-g-get a s-s-spanking.” He bent over, curling his arms around himself and wailing, his thick glasses wobbling on his nose.

  “Hey, kid – Jimmy, don't cry. Please. Hey, kid, look at me.” The kid looked cautiously over his curled arms. Richard gave him a wide smile.

  “Y-Y-You're n-n-not g-g-gonna s-s-spank me, are y-y-you?”

  “Of course not, Jimmy. I'm not gonna hurt you at all.”

  Jimmy kept his arms curled, but straightened up some.

  “P-P-Promise?”

  “Promise. Come closer so I don't have to talk so loud. I know it can sound scary when I have to talk loud.”

  “Yeah, it c-c-can. N-N-No t-t-talk l-l-loud, no loud.” He started to shuffle toward Richard, arms still curled around himself.

  “Yeah, Jimmy, no talk loud. That's good. Can you come a little closer?” Jimmy shuffled further, then stopped about five feet away.

  “That's fine, Jimmy, just fine. Now we can just talk normally.”

  “N-N-Normal t-t-talk. G-G-Good. T-T-Talk good.”

  “Yes, it is, Jimmy, yes, it is. Normal talk good. Now, Jimmy, can you tell me how old you are?”

  “H-H-How old? I'm tw-tw-twenty-n-n-nine and s-s-six m-m-months. I'll b-b-be th-th-thirty in J-J-June.”

  “Well, happy birthday next June, Jimmy.”

  Jimmy brightened and let his arms uncurl, then smiled a wide smile, revealing yellowed, blackened, scraggly teeth.

  “H-H-Happy B-B-Birthday t-t-to J-J-Jimmy, H-H-Happy --”

  “Yup, happy birthday to you, Jimmy.”

  “-- B-B-Birthday t-t-to m-m-me.” He straightened his glasses.

  “Now, Jimmy, my name is Richard and I'd like to be your friend, maybe get you something for your birthday in June. Would that be okay?

  “Oh, ye-ye-yes. I'd l-l-like th-th-that … R-R-Richard.”

  “What would you like for your birthday, Jimmy?”

  “Oh, umm, umm … I g-g-got it. M-M-Maybe a t-t-teddy b-b-bear?”

  “That's great, Jimmy. I'll get you a really big teddy bear --”

  “N-N-No, n-n-not a b-b-big one. S-S-Scary. T-T-Too big.” Jimmy started to back away.

  “Okay, Jimmy, not a big one. Would a tiny one be okay?”

  “M-M-Medium, m-m-medium is g-g-good.”

  “Medium; you got it, Jimmy. That's what friends are for, isn't it?”

  “I g-g-guess s-s-so.”

  “Would you be my friend, Jimmy?”

  “I g-g-guess s-s-so.”

  “Say my name, Jimmy.”

  “R-R-Richard, r-r-right?”

  “Perfect, Jimmy. And I'm your friend, right?”

  “R-R-Right. F-F-Friend. R-R-Richard.”

  “And friends do things for each other, right, Jimmy?”

  “I g-g-guess s-s-so.”

  “Would you do something for me, Jimmy, friend to friend?”

  “I g-g-guess s-s-so.”

  “That's nice, Jimmy, my friend. Can I borrow your phone for a minute?”

  “I g-g-guess s-s-so. I j-j-just u-u-use it t-t-to c-c-call m-m-my m-m-mom. H-H-Here, R-R-Richard, f-f-friend.” He pulled an older model cell phone from his jacket pocket and gave it to Richard, who pulled it through the bars into the cell.

  “Thank you, Jimmy.” He checked for a dial tone and smiled.

  “Whew.” He dialed, waited and then said, “Dawson? Richard … no, no, no; Donne stuck us all in a cell in the basement … I know, I know … yup, Thursday afternoon, totally out of touch since then … no, some retard's phone ...”

  “I'm n-n-not a r-r-retard; I'm j-j-just im-p-p-paired.”

  “Quiet, Jimmy. I'm talking here.

  “Look, Dawson, you've got to get us out of here … no, now, right now … I don't care; wake one up … me, Andy, Bob and Lee … okay, fine; call 'em all, but get this done, now. And check all the accounts, make sure everything is still there … what? Shit; that sonofabitch … can you … okay, okay. Just get us out of here, now!” He hung up.

  “Okay, guys. Dawson's gonna get all our sharks and get a habeas corpus, tonight, get us outa here.”

  “C-C-Can I h-h-have m-m-my ph-ph-phone b-b-back n-n-now, R-R-Richard?”

  “No; I'm gonna keep it for a while, retard.”

  “I am N-N-NOT a r-r-retard. I'm j-j-just im-p-p-paired. Y-Y-You're n-n-not m-my-my fr-fr-friend any-m-m-more.” He started crying and ran out of the room, slamming the heavy door open and closed.

  “Retard,” Richard said, and dialed the phone again. “What? What? 'No connection'? What the fuck?”

  “Let me see that,” Andy said. “Shit, no bars, nothing.” He reared back, ready to throw it against the wall, but Richard grabbed it out of his hand.

  “No, don't; maybe it'll come back in a while.”

  * * * * * *

  A few moments later, Jimmy walked into the Oval Office, pulled the fake teeth off his very white real ones and smiled at Donne.

  “Pizza cake, Gordy; just like Munich. They bought it, f'sure.”

  “Superlative, Tony; go have a good rest. Now we wait.”

  “Good night, Gordy. Good luck.”

  -48-

  Four Months Earlier

  Saturday, August 13, 2011

  12:10 p.m.

  Bonita Beach, Florida

  “Hey, Deb.”

  “Hi, Jake. What'll it be?”

  “Two jumbo dogs. Deb, this is Pam. Pam, Deb.”

  “Hi, Pam. Love your suit.”

  “Nice to meet you, Deb, and thanks.”

  “Here ya go.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And there's your change.”

  Jake was putting ketchup and mustard on his hot dog while Pam put ketchup, mustard, onions and relish on hers when Debra pointed at a stack of bright green fliers on the table
.

  "Hey, Jake, Pam, what do you think about this? The Hysterical Society is doing another 'Swim With The Gator Day' next month."

  "Another what day?" Jake asked, picking up a flier.

  "'Swim With The Gator.' It benefits the Historical Society, you know, the ones who do the Mayor of Survey fundraiser every two years."

  "Yeah, I remember that from last year, but 'Swim With The Gator'? What's that?"

  "Oh, they bring a six-footer over from the zoo on Old 41, put him in the city pool by the library, and any daredevil who gets in and stays in for one minute gets a $25 gift certificate, and they charge ten bucks a head for the public to come in and watch. Last year, they raised over five grand."

  Jake raised his eyebrows and said, "Wait a minute. People VOLUNTARILY get in the pool with a live alligator? That's crazy."

  "Oh, yeah. Last year they had over forty guys give it a shot, and all but three came out unscathed."

  "What happened to the three?"

  "One minor bite, one scraped knee and one broken arm ... but he did that after getting out of the pool, tripped on his seeing-eye dog."

  "Oh, geez. They all go in together?"

  "Oh, no; one at a time."

  "Well, at least that's -- wait a minute. His seeing- -- he was blind?"

  Debra grinned. "Gotcha."

  "Oh, geez. So no Gator Day?"

  "No, that's for real. Just that the guy actually broke his arm tripping over his walker."

  "Now you're pulling my leg again, Deb."

  "Yup, you got me. So what d'ya think? Wanna give it a shot?”

  “Me? Get in with a live gator? No way, Jose. I might pay the ten bucks to watch.”

  “Maybe Pam would; you look kinda fearless. What d'ya think?”

  “I think I'd rather just watch once, Deb.”

  “You know what you could do, Jake? Donate some copies of your book.”

  “Yeah, I could do that – but it won't be out until December.”

  “Gift certificates. Then leave the copies at the Historical Society once it's out and they can pick 'em up there.”

  “Yeah, that's doable. Good idea, Deb.”

  “Just a thought. By the way, did you hear the one about the Buddhist hot dog vendor?”

  “Nope.”

  “So this guy orders a hot dog, gets it, gives the guy a twenty and waits … and waits … and waits … and waits … and waits. Finally he says, 'Hey, where's my change?' And the Buddhist hot dog vendor says, 'Change comes from within.'”

  Pam laughed and Jake chuckled. “Not bad, Deb, not bad. That'll go into the database.”

  “Thought you'd like that one. See ya later.”

  “Biz, Deb.”

  “Nice to have met you,” Pam said.

  As they walked back to the beach, Pam said, “'Biz'?”

  Jake nodded. “Kind of our code word. Instead of saying 'Bye' for 'Goodbye,' I say, 'Biz' for 'Good biz.' Just jargon.” Pam chuckled and took a bite of her hot dog, chewed and swallowed.

  “Mmmm; that's good. Where does she get them?”

  “She won't say; it's a secret. Maybe we should turn her over to the CIA,” Jake said, smiling.

  “Oh, Jake, don't joke about that. Those guys can be deadly, for real.”

  “SCR.”

  “What?”

  “Sorry; Couldn't Resist. Sorry; just an acronym I made up a while ago.”

  “Ah. But I'd be careful about talking about those guys.”

  ”Okay; I'll be good.”

  As they continued walking back to their spot, Jake nibbling at his hot dog, Pam wrapping hers for when they got back, a cute young blonde woman came by and said, “Hey, Jake.”

  “Morning, Laurie,” Jake said, making it sound like “Morning Glory.”

  “Pam, this is Laurie, our beach bun-walker. Laurie, Pam.”

  “Hi, Pam.”

  “Hi, Laurie. Bun-walker?”

  Laurie patted her butt. “Gotta walk this off.”

  “You look fine.”

  “Now, Jake, no flattery; I know what I know.

  “Love your suit, Pam.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So how's Jeff doing up nord dere?”Jake asked.

  “Fine. Got his cabin in the woods all done and he's enjoying his solitude. He'll be back late September.”

  “Great. Next time you talk to him, tell him hi from me and tell him you two'll definitely be in the book.”

  “Oh, cool. Will do. Nice meeting you, Pam.”

  “Same here, Laurie.”

  As Laurie walked on, she smiled at Jake and held her thumb and index finger out horizontally, about half an inch apart. Jake replied similarly, but holding his digits maybe an inch and a half apart. Pam looked on quizzically as Laurie laughed and continued on.

  “What was that about?”

  Jake blushed under his tan. “That's a VERY long story. Some other time, okay?”

  “Okay. But I'm intrigued, so I'll hold you to that.”

  “Promise.”

  “And what was that about the Mayor of … Survey, was it?”

  “Oh, that was the name of this area before it was Bonita Springs, and every two years, people run for mayor, asking for votes any way they can, and it's ten cents a vote. The person who raises the most money wins and gets the title for the next two years. It's kind of fun, but I'd bet not as much as that gator thing.”

  “Probably not.”

  “The historical society also runs a kind of scavenger hunt every March, where they hide a snook replica somewhere in the city and run clues in the local paper. It's called 'Sammy the Snook,' and they have sponsors who put up prizes for whoever finds him first, usually around fifteen hundred bucks or so.”

  “Sounds like fun. But what's a snook?”

  “It's a fish. Apparently it's got a great taste.”

  “Apparently?”

  “I've never tasted it.”

  “I guess I haven't, either. Maybe we'll have to fix that sometime. I'll buy.”

  Jake smiled. “You're on.” He held out his hand and Pam shook it, holding on a bit longer than one might expect.

  She said, “Deal, then.”

  “Done.” They both laughed as they got to their spot on the beach and settled back in.

  The Mimosa twins turned their equipment back on and returned to be-bopping to the soft but rhythmic music on their earbuds.

  -49-

  Tuesday, December 20, 2011

  10:30 a.m.

  The White House

  Washington, DC

  Emily escorted three men and a woman into the Oval Office, handed Donne four sheets of paper, nodded to Donne and spoke to the newcomers.

  “Please introduce yourself to Mr. Donne.”

  The woman spoke first. “Dawson Skinner, Esquire, on behalf of my client, Richard _______.”

  “Leonard Seacrest, Esquire, on behalf of Andy ______.”

  “Rollin Creek, Esquire, on behalf of Robert ______.”

  “Ryan Stone, Esquire, on behalf of Lee ________.”

  “Thank you, Emily. Have our guests all signed the release form?”

  “Yes, sir, they have.”

  “Did they read them carefully?”

  “No, sir, they did not.”

  “Too bad; those are binding, whether they did or not. Thank you, Emily. Please stay with us for a moment.

  “Now, gentlemen, ma'am, what brings you here so urgently?”

  Ms. Skinner said, “We have four orders for habeas corpus for our clients, each signed by Judge Maude Williams. We demand to see them immediately.” She held out the papers, which Donne took and reviewed closely for a full minute.

  “Well, these seem to be in order, and I have no problem at all with meeting that demand. But first, I have something to show you.

  “Emily, if you would?”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Donne.” She pressed a button on a remote on the corner of the desk and a large TV screen was revealed on the wall. She pressed another button and the screen sho
wed a replay of the scene between Donne and the four union bosses the previous Thursday. The four lawyers watched intently, initially frowning, then clenching their fists as Donne ordered the guards in and the bosses were handcuffed and removed.

  “If you are worthy of the title 'attorney,' you'll have no argument with the fact that your clients deserved the sentence I gave them. I'll also assure you that they have been treated well and are comfortable in their cell. No, no arguments now. Emily here will take you down to see your clients. You'll have two hours before we'll check in and see if you need more time. Good day.”

  Ms. Skinner said, “But, Mr. --”

  Donne cut in. “No, Ms. Skinner, save it for after you've spoken with your client. Same for you all, gentlemen. Good day.

  “Emily?”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Donne.

  “This way.” She led the four attorneys out of the Oval Office.

  Once the door closed, Donne pressed a button on his desk, and Tony entered from a hidden doorway.

  “Ready for Round Two, Tony?”

  “Absolutely, Mr. D-D-Donne.” He smiled sheepishly.

  “Good smile, Tony.”

  “Thanks, Gordy. Got my toofies, glasses and wig right here.”

  “Great. Any problems?

  “Nah; easy peazy.”

  “Give 'em about an hour and then have at it.”

  “Will do. This'll be fun.”

  As the door closed behind Tony, Donne's intercom buzzed.

  “Yes, Emily?”

  “They're on their way down with the guards. And Amy Christian is here.”

  “Oh, good. Just send her on in. Thanks.”

  “Right-o, boss.”

  A moment later, a 40-ish, slim, pretty, ebony-skinned woman with a briefcase and a brown paper bag entered, walked right over to Donne and gave him a hug and an air kiss, both of which he returned.

  “God, Amy, you're looking good.”

  “Thanks, Gordy. You too … but maybe a little tired. You getting enough sleep?”

  “Not really. But there's so much stuff that just needs to be done immediately, if not sooner.”

  “I know what you mean. I'm getting a lot of flack and pushback from the current Secretary.”