ON Fire (An Ozzie Novak Thriller, Book 5) (Redemption Thriller Series 17)

by John W. Mefford

  Bailing seemed like the best option. It certainly beat swimming in the soiled shark waters with Franklin and Winston.

  “I’d think twice before pulling that stunt,” Winston said. His use of a “p” word had puffed his rancid cigar breath right into my face.

  “What now, Winston?” My energy battery was running low.

  “We need the best of Ozzie, not the wimp who walks away from a dog fight.”

  “Get Marco to be on the end of your leash.” I pushed away from the table and stood.

  “Marco isn’t capable. Besides, he doesn’t have your skill set.”

  “I think you’re saying that he doesn’t know about Franklin’s crimes and you’d like to keep the number of people who know about it to as few as possible.”

  He tilted his head. “I could see how that argument might have merit.”

  I was starting to understand why judges could be assholes at times. Dealing with a guy like this every day would make a person insane.

  “And if I refuse?”

  “Do we really want to go there? There’s been enough discourse in here today. Frankly, I enjoy working in a more upbeat environment.”

  I’d once had a friend in college who, after a long night of partying, would stick his fingers down his throat until he gagged and threw up. Said it allowed him to sleep better and not be sick the next day. For a moment, I actually considered mimicking the same crazy act. I would aim right for Winston’s face.

  “Fuck your upbeat environment.”

  He shook his head like a disapproving principal, and then his face went dark. “If you want to hold any reputation in this city to continue being a PI…hell, if you want to get a job being a fucking janitor, you will work this investigation with everything you have.” He paused, shifted the knot of his tie, and went back to being regular sleazy Winston. “And, because we’re nice, we’ll still pay you handsomely for the effort.”

  I had so many things I wanted to say, it was difficult to line them up. But I could see where this would go. Lots of threats on both sides. For now, my threats had the power of a gentle breeze. Their threats, though, might be closer to a hammer, maybe even a wrecking ball, depending on how far they wanted to take it. Again, it was a time-and-money formula. Time might not be on their side, but money was not an issue. Maybe for Franklin, although I’d yet to get that confirmed, but certainly not for Winston. And for whatever reason, he seemed to be taking a personal interest in this case. A great client advocate? Maybe, but if Franklin was as cash poor as Elaine had alluded, then how was Winston being paid?

  I blew out a tired breath, my eyes staring out the window. “I need your full client list.”

  “Okay, you can have it. How far back?” Franklin asked.

  “How far does it go?”

  “I’ve been doing this kind of work for twenty-two years.”

  “Then you just said the magic number. Twenty-two years.”

  “Okay, it might take me a while to pull it together.”

  Through the haze of cigar smoke and my annoyance at everyone in the room, including myself, a thought came to mind. “That night of the murder. Who did you meet with after you left the room, unless that was also a lie?”

  Franklin glanced at Winston.

  “Do you need Daddy’s permission to speak?”

  “Yes, I met with someone.” He rubbed his crinkled forehead but said no more.

  “Didn’t Winston just say something about being a team player? Saying you met with someone is not helpful, Franklin. I need more information.”

  “Her name is Riya. Riya Patel.”

  I perked up. “Was she a member of the Indian delegation, part of the group for which you guys had thrown your soiree?”

  “Yes, we were celebrating the fact that we’d just received word that our efforts to sway a vote in a house subcommittee to ease restrictions on the import of certain species of fish had moved in our favor.”

  “A fish vote.”

  “People in the United States consume more than four point eight billion pounds of seafood a year. So, there’s a lot on the line.”

  Please don’t let that information stay with me. I thought of Nicole saying “trivial.” “I’d like to speak with Riya, but first I’d like to get a list of people at that party. Then your client list, of course.” I knew it sounded like I’d been brainwashed and joined Team Franklin, but this was a necessary step. The old adage of “keep your enemies closer” seemed to be remarkably accurate right now. And it wasn’t even by my own doing—I wanted out. But if I was going to be forced to do it, maybe I’d figure out some way of pinning a crime on Franklin, even if it didn’t have anything to do with the Pamela Connor murder or the FDA corruption.

  “I guess I can do that.” He cleared his throat. “There’s something I need to tell you, I suppose.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Riya and I…we kind of had this thing going on the side.”

  “Thing.”

  “We enjoyed each other’s company.”

  My hand dropped to the table. “You were screwing another woman?”

  He looked away. I shook my head, recalling the shell of a woman I’d met the previous day. His wife, Elaine. How she’d stuck with him for all these years had to qualify her for sainthood.

  “Are you trying to top the great Wilt Chamberlain with all these conquests?”

  “Who?”

  I threw my hands in the air and spun in a circle. Clearly, he wasn’t aware that Wilt was one of the greatest basketball players to ever play the game. But his greatness remained only on the court. Off the court, he was the king of schmucks, claiming he’d slept with twenty thousand women in his life.

  Franklin still had that bewildered look on his face, so I moved on.

  “Forget it. So, let me see if I understand this timeline of yours. You have this party with people from three different countries. After the party, you and Pamela celebrate some more and have sex. By the way, how old was she?”

  “Thirty-one.”

  “Younger, of course. Anyway, then you roll out of bed and go meet with this other woman, Riya Patel. Did you guys…?”

  He sighed, clearly troubled by the fact that he had to answer my questions. “I’d only intended on saying hello before heading home. But she can be very convincing.”

  “And how old is Riya?”

  “I’m not sure exactly. We really haven’t gotten that close yet.”

  I put a hand to my throat and swallowed, trying to keep my coffee down. “So, you do the nasty with Riya and then you go home and jump in bed with your wife? You’re probably a walking disease, man. Elaine must have zero self-worth to allow you back in her bed. But that isn’t very surprising, considering she’s had to deal with your shit for all these years.”

  His nostrils flared as he looked at me. He so wanted to rip me a new one.

  “Ozzie, let’s try to keep the opinions at a more professional level.” Winston said, nodding and acting as if he were the ultimate arbiter of truth and justice.

  “Just so you know, part of me still loves Elaine. We share two kids. That’s why I went home. I wanted to see the kids in the morning.”

  A true candidate for Dad of the Year.

  “Like I said, I’ll need the list of folks at that party ASAP, and their contact information.”

  “But some of them might have already left the country.”

  “Do they have phones in Asia? You can turn sand into gold, Franklin. Getting overseas phone numbers shouldn’t be difficult.”

  I walked to the door.

  “When can we expect to hear from you, Ozzie? I’d like to share with the judge how Franklin is being set up. Soon. Real soon. Before they start digging into Franklin’s life. We need this to go away. Quickly.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. No promises on timing.” I looked at Franklin. “Send me the list.”

  “You think someone from that group might have set me up? I mean, I’d just delivered a home run for them
.”

  “People are motivated by strange things, Franklin. You should know that as much as anyone.”

  “One more thing.” Franklin rubbed his forehead as if it were a crystal ball.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m a, uh….” His breathing cadence picked up.

  “I don’t have all day. A what?”

  “A fucking sex addict, okay? I’m seeing a therapist for it. Thought you should know before you find out on your own.”

  The whole thing disgusted me. “My advice? Find a new therapist. It’s not working.”

  I walked out the door and nearly ran into Garrett, who had his phone up against his face.

  “Excuse me,” I said.

  He just turned his nose in the air and walked down the hall.

  I couldn’t get out of LEAP fast enough.

  20

  I stopped in the bathroom on my way out of the building and washed my hands. I felt like I needed to be deloused. But I didn’t have the time, so handwashing would have to do for now.

  A quick image of me and Nicole in the shower flashed to the front of my mind. Lots of soap and suds and sliding. I was getting worked up, which beat getting worked over by the asshats in the LEAP office.

  I started the Cadillac—destination was Gartner Automotive, so I could pick up my laptop—and called Nicole.

  When I first heard her voice, I noticed one important difference between us. “How do you have so much energy?” I asked. “You had a seven o’clock meeting this morning. By the way, who the hell calls meetings at that hour of the day?”

  She giggled in that infectious way that had always drawn me to her. “I conked out as soon as my head hit the pillow. If you remember, the night before, you kept poking me from behind, and then I had to leave before Mackenzie got up. I think I got two one-hour naps.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Oh, I’m not complaining. Not at all. Best night in the last six months of my life, even if the night was over in about two hours,” she said through another soft giggle.

  She quickly hit me with about ten questions on my meeting with Winston and Franklin. I told her the whole seamy story.

  “You must feel sick to your stomach, Oz.” She then reminded me of my old buddy from college who used to make himself throw up.

  Great minds...

  “Believe me, I already went there. During the meeting, I was debating whether to aim at Winston or Franklin.”

  Our conversation went on for a few more minutes, and thankfully, she didn’t ask me, “What are you going to do?” I’d asked myself that question far more than I wanted to hear it, and I had no idea what I was going to do. I also knew she thought of us as a team and wanted to be included in everything that was happening—personally and professionally. I wasn’t ready to go there yet. Not completely. On the other hand, I was glad to see her step up and try to bring us closer. Someone had to rise above the pettiness and be the adult.

  “That attorney-client privilege thing is a tough one to get around,” she said. “Have you thought about talking to your new cop buddy, Porter? He might have some ideas.”

  “Remember, that’s technically not allowed.”

  “Even if you ran it by him as more of a hypothetical…where he gets the hint, but you’re not really divulging direct facts.”

  “That approach might have merit. Oh, crap!”

  “What’s wrong, babe?”

  I’d told her how I was disgusted at myself for a number of reasons—not reading the details hidden in the contract with LEAP at the top of the list. But now I was starting to use phrases that Winston might use: “That approach might have merit.”

  My God, what have I become?

  “Maybe you need shock therapy,” she joked.

  “If it could get me out of this contract, I’d do it.”

  She snickered.

  “You think I’m joking? I feel like I’m in one of those rooms where the walls are literally closing in on me—and there’s no oxygen.”

  “If you’re in the room, then I’m in the room with you,” she said. “We’ll figure out a way around this.”

  My eye twitched a little hearing her talk like that—the “we” thing. But, damn, the woman was good for my soul. I needed to get over myself. I needed to show her how much she really meant to me…completely, not just in a “quickie” physical manner. She deserved better than that.

  “Off topic for a quick second.” She went on to tell me that Tito had invited everyone he knew to an art exhibit tonight. Not only did he have a few paintings up for sale, but fifty percent of the profits would go to help the Austin Homeless Shelter. And this was a kid-friendly event.

  “Sounds like fun,” I said. “Mackenzie will love it. A family night out on the town.”

  “She might want to invite her friend, Ariel. You good with that?”

  “Good suggestion. I’ll run it by her.”

  “By the way,” she said, “the whole family won’t be there. Baxter and Rainbow aren’t allowed in the gallery.”

  I laughed. It helped lower my anxiety at least a bit.

  “I’m glad to be a source of happiness for you, Oz. Warms my heart to hear you laugh.”

  “If you only knew.”

  “Knew what?” she said coyly.

  “It warms more than my heart.”

  “Is that all you think about now?”

  “Well, we did go through a dry period, right?”

  “Pfft. Love is more than just a roll in the sack.”

  She was right about that. It was like she’d just read my mind. Then, something she’d said hit me like a frying pan on the head. “Source.”

  “Is this a quiz? ‘Source’ what?”

  I told her my idea, and she told me to hang up and make the call.

  21

  Before I could find the name in my contacts, Brook sent me a text:

  Would love to get an update on Franklin’s case when you have a moment. No details, just whatever you feel comfortable sharing.

  Damn, I wanted to share everything with Brook. I knew she had to be crazy curious at this point. Since I was parked at a red light, I sent back a reply saying she should meet us at the art exhibit tonight. I told her it was connected to a charity. She shot back a quick response.

  Only if I can bring Noah. We’re pretty inseparable now. Plus, he’ll want to hear the update too. Peace of mind.

  I cringed, but texted back:

  Nicole has all the details about the exhibit. Give her a call. See you soon.

  Noah. I hadn’t temporarily forgotten what Elaine had said about the man. Hell, even his own mother hadn’t lavished him with praise, compared to what she’d said about her dirtbag older son. I couldn’t quite identify it, but something about Noah seemed off. At the same time, I hardly knew him, and Brook adored him. I shoved that worry to the back of my mind. Not my business.

  I slowly rolled onto I-35—the parking lot that it was—and dialed up my contact over the car’s Bluetooth. It rang six times before being answered.

  “Austin American-Statesman, Tracy here.” He spoke like he was answering the phones at Pizza Hut—quick and disinterested.

  “You sound busy.”

  “Ozzie, hey. Tell me you got something new to share.”

  Knowing he’d want straight facts with no inclusion of emotional opinion, I gave him the rundown of my meeting with Winston and Franklin in quick order.

  “Holy shit. What are you going to do?”

  I guess he wasn’t officially on Team Ozzie. “That’s why I’m calling. You received the same text messages. There’s no concern of attorney-client privilege in that case. You could go straight to the FBI with that data, and they could use it to nail Franklin on the corruption charge.”

  “Ha. You’re funny. The only reason I might go to the FBI is to ask if they had any additional suspects in the Drake-FDA corruption case. And then after they give me a ‘no comment,’ I’d ask why they didn’t have Franklin in their crosshairs. So, if they
don’t know anything, then I suppose I’d be throwing them a bone.”

  “Wait. You wouldn’t take this to them as a concerned citizen to ensure bad people were put in prison?”

  “Didn’t I already say you’re funny?”

  “No,” I lied.

  “I know you’re kidding. But don’t you get it? This isn’t about handing the case to the FBI on a silver platter and then walking away.”

  “You want to sell newspapers. And who still reads those?”

  “You’re a regular comedian.”

  “The FBI isn’t the enemy here, Tracy. This guy is bad. Very bad. He’s done a lot of shit over the years, hurt a lot of people. He fricking knew about Drake killing people. And you know what? He doesn’t care. He has a clear conscience. He told me that. It really doesn’t get much worse.”

  He sighed. “You may not understand my profession. I get it. Not many people do, considering all those media folks out there masquerading as journalists. Let’s just put it this way. If I go to the FBI and tell them as a concerned citizen, what will they do with it?”

  “I don’t know…maybe arrest the guy, put him behind bars.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe they sit on it, and we watch Franklin continue working the system, committing crime after crime.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “My point exactly. We can’t rely on a government agency to do the right thing all the time. This isn’t a TV show. Life isn’t so black-and-white. I thought you, if anyone, would know that.”

  I guess he was referring to the craziness of my own life when we’d first met. I didn’t want to think about it right now.

  “Tracy, we have to do something. They have me by the nuts. I have a daughter to support. I can’t afford to get blackballed.”

  “I’m telling you, Oz; it’s best if I just run with the story. This will lead to the most movement. If it wasn’t for journalists, smoking would still be viewed as safe, Vietnam would be considered a just war, and Nixon would probably have his face on the quarter.”

  I’d rather take the direct route than do this run-around through the press, but if that was what it took to make the authorities accountable, then so be it. “Okay. Run with it.”