The DA jumped to his feet again. “Objection, Your Honor!”
“On what grounds, Counselor?”
“The drone was three hundred feet in the air. The defendant may own the junkyard, but he certainly has no control of the airspace over the property.”
The judge turned to Suzanne. “Ms. Romero?”
“If the prosecution is using ownership as a criterion for the expectation of privacy, I think he may have a problem.”
She turned to Winkler. “Sergeant, have you ever planted a bug in a hotel room --- a place not owned by the suspect?”
“Yes.”
“Were you required to obtain a court order?”
“Yes.”
Romero looked at the judge.
“Objection overruled! Continue Ms. Romero.”
“Sergeant Winkler, prior to obtaining the surveillance footing from the X8, did you have sufficient evidence to arrest either Benny Esposito or Alejandro Alveraz?”
“No, I didn’t --- but you’re missing the point, Ms. Romero. We got a Mexican drug dealer and his Kansas City distributor dead to rights. I can show you a recording of Alveraz unloading a shipment of coke and Esposito giving him a suitcase of cash in return. We used what we had to get a couple of scumbags off the street and make Kansas City a safer place.”
“No, YOU’RE missing the point, Sergeant,” she replied. “While I respect and applaud the good work that you and your men do, there’s a bigger issue on the table here. The citizens of this country have an expectation of privacy and that fundamental freedom should only be violated when a judge issues a court order based on probable cause. There’s no doubt in my mind that in this particular instance, both Mr. Alvarez and Mr. Esposito should be behind bars, but if the evidence that convicts them was obtained illegally and we let it slide, we have set a precedent for future abuses of power.”
Romero turned to the judge. “The issue before this court today is not whether these men are guilty of drug trafficking, but whether the use of drones like the X8 for surveillance requires the issuance of a court order. Your Honor, the trust in our government by the American people is at an all-time low. Recent revelations that the NSA has been listening to our phone conversations and monitoring our Internet use are matters of great concern. If we add to that the notion that the government, or anyone for that matter, can invade our privacy with impunity, we are headed down a slippery slope.
“Your Honor, the defense argues that the use of the X8 drone was an illegal search and therefore the evidence obtained from that illegal search is inadmissible as fruit of the poison tree. We move that all charges be dismissed.”
There was not a sound in the courtroom as everyone awaited the judge’s decision.
You could see the wheels turning in his head as he weighed the pros and cons of his ruling.
At last, he banged his gavel. “Case dismissed!”
Immediately, the courtroom was abuzz. Reporters headed to the nearest exit to be the first to get this precedent-setting verdict to the public.
As Benny Esposito headed out of the courtroom, he spied Ox and me. “I’ll say ‘Hi’ to Dino for you.”
I ran into Suzanne Romero out in the hall.
“Sorry to blow your case,” she said. “I hope you understand.”
“I do. I just hate to see creeps like Esposito and Alvaraz beat the system.”
“I do too,” she replied. “Say, don’t you and Maggie live in a third floor apartment?”
I nodded.
“How would you like it if an X8 was hovering outside your bedroom window taking photos of the two of you in bed?”
“I think you know the answer to that.”
“Maybe with decisions like the one today, we can keep that from happening.”
As I watched her walk away, I marveled once again at the insurmountable task Lady Justice has to keep her scales in balance.
CHAPTER 13
“That was an easy one!” Eric Slade commented as he counted the money from the manila envelope on the table.
“That’s easy for you to say,” retorted Jessica Fisher. “You weren’t the one being groped by that Neanderthal. Do you have any idea what he made me do?”
“Actually, I do,” he replied. “I have the photos. Remember?”
“Oh, right. He was still a pig!”
“Here,” Slade said, sliding a pile of bills across the table, “maybe twenty-five grand will help you forget. We probably could have gotten more. With the congressman getting ready to make a run for the vacant senate seat, the last thing he wanted was to be the next Anthony Weiner.”
“So who’s our next mark?” Jessica asked as she thumbed through the stack of hundred dollar bills.
“Remember the two old guys that won the lottery about a month ago? Well, one of them, Earl Lassiter, has been hanging around some of the clubs in Westport. I think he may be looking for a little action.”
“Oh crap! Weren’t those guys in their seventies?”
“Actually, Lassiter is seventy-two,” Slade said, smiling.
“I hate jumping in bed with old guys,” she grumbled. “They smell funny.”
“For your share of a hundred grand, do you think you could hold your breath?”
“Only a hundred grand?” she replied. “Didn’t those two old farts split over two hundred million?”
“Let’s not get greedy, Jessica. Remember, the trick is to get enough to make it worth our while but not so much that the mark wants to run to the cops.”
“So what makes you think this old codger will pay up?”
“I’ve been doing some digging,” he replied. “His wife has been gone about five years but he still has a daughter and grandson here in town. From what I hear, this guy was a regular Boy Scout, not so much as a parking ticket, so I’m guessing that he won’t want photos of Grandpa doing the nasty falling into the wrong hands.”
“If he was such a Boy Scout, why would he hook up with me?”
“That’s the thing,” Slade said, “we’re gonna have to take this one slow and easy. I’ve watched him at the Grand Emporium and the Blarney Stone. He’s been approached by several of the bar girls. He politely rejected their advances. If he thinks you’re a bimbo, you won’t have a chance. Thing is, you’re a good-looking redhead and so was his wife, Maureen. These old guys spend a lot of time living in the past. He has to be lonely. If you play your cards right, maybe you can be the reincarnation of the love of his life.”
“That’s just cruel!” she protested.
“So all of a sudden you’ve developed a conscience? We’re talking a hundred grand here.”
She thought for a minute. “Okay. What do you want me to do?”
Earl Lassiter had just picked up a loaf of bread and was studying his grocery list as he pushed his cart around the corner.
He was so absorbed in trying to remember which aisle held the preserves that he failed to notice the slender redhead whose arms were loaded with her purchases.
His cart struck the woman, scattering her groceries across the aisle.
“Oh my God!” he muttered, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”
“I --- I think so,” she replied, rubbing her knee. “It’s my fault. I should have gotten a cart. I didn’t think I’d buy this much.”
“Nonsense,” he replied as he helped gather her groceries. “I should have been watching where I was going. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said smiling. “My name’s Jessica.”
“I’m Burt --- Burt Greenwood,” Earl said, handing the woman a bruised melon.
Jessica had to stifle a smile. The old guy was pretty sharp, using an alias so people wouldn’t know that he was Kansas City’s newest millionaire. In his faded jeans and striped t-shirt he certainly didn’t look the part.
“Nice to meet you, Burt. I’d shake your hand --- but well --- as you can see they’re full again.”
“Let me get you a cart.”
“That�
�s okay,” she replied. “I’m heading to the register. Drive careful, Burt.”
“Yes, I’d better,” he said, smiling. “I certainly don’t want to lose my license!”
As Earl watched the woman walk away, something stirred inside him. The red hair --- those deep blue eyes and the sweet smile invoked the memory of his beloved Maureen. He wiped away a tear as he headed for the strawberry preserves.
Two days later, Earl was at the Plaza Branch of the Mid-Continent Public Library. He had gotten a call from Stacy Brecht in Hollywood. Work on the TV show seemed to be moving along so he decided to read everything he could find about the process.
He was returning a stack of periodicals when he ran headlong into another patron whose arms were also loaded.
To his surprise, his victim was none other than Jessica.
“Burt!” she said, astonished. “I can’t believe we did this again!”
“I’m so sorry,” he apologized. “I’m just a doddering old fool.”
They both reached for her books and their hands touched briefly. “Let me get these for you,” Earl said.
When everything had been gathered off the floor, Earl asked, “Are you sure you’re okay? I seem to be asking you that a lot lately.”
“I’m fine.”
“Is there anything that I can do to make up for my clumsiness?” Earl asked expectantly.
“Well,” Jessica said, smiling coyly, “I’ve been in these books all afternoon. I could sure use a frappacino. There’s a Starbucks not far from here.”
“Then let’s go,” he said. “My treat and I’ll try not to spill it on you.”
Two hours later, as Earl was driving home, he couldn’t believe his good fortune.
He was amazed at how much he and Jessica had in common --- and the best part was that she was single. She was smart and witty and she even laughed at his silly jokes. Before they left the coffee shop, he had asked if he could call her some time. She wrote her number on the napkin that he held clutched in his hand. It had been a long time since he had felt like this --- and the feeling was good!
“A date!” Morty roared. “You! You’ve got to be kidding me! So you decided to hit on Myrtle Mincus after all.”
“It’s not Myrtle,” Earl replied sheepishly.
“Oh really? Then who, pray tell?”
“Her name is Jessica --- Jessica Fisher --- and she’s really nice.”
Now Morty was really interested. “So where did you meet this willing lass?”
“I ran into her --- literally ---at the grocery store and then at the library a couple of days later. She seemed really sweet and we just seemed to ‘click’, so I asked for her phone number --- and she actually gave it to me.”
“So how do you know that she’s not just another gold-digger after your money?” Morty asked.
“Because I told her that my name was Burt Greenwood and that I was a retired car salesman.”
“Burt Greenwood!” Morty roared. “You could pick any fictitious name you wanted and you came up with Burt Greenwood? Now me, if I was gonna pick a fake name, it’d be something cool like Rocky or Stone. Remember that guy on the TV news show, Stone Phillips? Now that was a cool name.”
“Give me a break, Morty. Do I really look like a Rocky or a Stone?”
“You got a point,” he replied. “So tell me about this gal. How old is she? What’s she look like?”
“Well, she has red hair and eyes as blue as the sky on a summer day. She’s going on fifty but she has the body of a woman half her age.”
“Going on fifty?” Morty interrupted. “Your daughter is going on fifty, for chrissakes! Couldn’t you find someone your own age?”
“Hey, I wasn’t out looking you know. It just sorta --- happened.”
“Red hair --- blue eyes --- this gal sounds a lot like someone I used to know.”
“Don’t go there, Morty. Please. It’s just a coincidence.”
“Yeah, right. What in the world makes you think a dame like that would fall for a putz like you?”
“How should I know? All I know is that she gave me her number.”
“Okay. So tell me about this big date. Where are you taking her?”
“To dinner --- just dinner. Thought I’d take her to Ruth’s Chris on the Plaza.”
“Big mistake,” Morty said.
“How so?”
“I thought you were a retired car salesman. You go to Ruth’s Chris, you’ll drop a hundred and fifty bucks easy --- way too much for a car peddler. You’ll blow your cover.”
Earl thought for a minute. “You might be right. I should probably scale it back a notch. Any ideas?”
“How about the Hereford House --- the one out in Independence. They have good food and it’ll cost you about fifty bucks. Plus, it’s connected to the Hilton Inn. If, by some miracle, you get lucky, you can just waltz right down the hall and get a room.”
Earl hadn’t actually considered that possibility, but now that Morty mentioned it, he was more nervous than ever.
“So what are you and Judy doing this weekend?” I asked.
“No idea,” Ox replied, “and I don’t really care as long as it doesn’t involve my colon. Oh, it can’t be too physical either. I’m still a bit raw.”
That was way more information than I wanted.
“I was thinking something along the line of dinner out --- no purges or marathons.”
“I could go for that. What did you have in mind?”
No married couple is compatible on every issue. In our two marriages, the choice of where to dine is an on-going struggle.
My favorite place is Mel’s Diner and Ox is addicted to the fare at Denny’s. He’s probably had more ‘slams’ than an NBA guard, hence the need for his colon cleanse.
On the other hand, the girl’s palates are a bit more refined. Our last evening out together was spent at The Melting Pot, the fondue place where you cook tiny bits of meat on a fork in a pot of boiling broth. Ox nearly starved. The trick to maintaining a state of tranquility in a marriage is finding some middle ground.
“How about the Hereford House?” I suggested. “The bar has a happy hour menu. The girls can get a petite filet covered with little crab things and for you and me, they have a deep-fried chicken breast and mashed potatoes. You can get the whole thing covered with gravy that’s out of this world.”
“Sounds like a winner to me,” Ox replied. “I’ll set it up with Judy.”
The Hereford House is divided into two parts. On one side is the bar --- a typical sports bar with TV sets everywhere broadcasting the latest game. There is a small dining area for folks that want to order off of the happy hour menu. The other side of the restaurant is for those who prefer ‘fine dining’. The menu has more selections, but the prices are almost double those on the happy hour menu.
Much to Judy’s chagrin, Ox had dragged his rubber donut into the restaurant.
“Really? It’s been a whole week! For a big tough cop, you can be such a big baby sometimes.”
“Hey! This is all your fault,” he replied, indignantly. “It certainly wasn’t my idea to blister my backside, so deal with it!”
“Men!” Judy said with disgust. “We’re only trying to make them healthier. Was Walt this difficult to deal with?”
“He had his moments, but he’s coming around.” Maggie replied.
I was about to respond with a witty retort, but fortunately the waiter showed up to take our orders.
The meal satisfied everyone’s needs. The girls loved their filets and Ox and I exceeded our minimum daily requirement for grease and gravy.
We were considering dessert options when Judy asked, “So Maggie, how are you coming with that old lottery winner? Have you found him a million dollar mansion yet?”
“No,” she replied, “it’s actually kind of strange. I helped him get those old houses for his ball field, but nothing more. I asked if he wanted to look for a house, but he said he was doing just fine where he was. Those two are certain
ly cut from a different cloth than the usual lottery winner.”
Ox interrupted. “Speaking of lottery winners --- isn’t that Earl --- the guy we rescued --- at the check-in desk leaving with the redhead?”
We all looked and sure enough, it was Earl.
“We ought to say, ‘hi’,” I said. “I’ve been meaning to call him and thank him for donating the drone to the department. Let me out, Ox, and I’ll see if I can catch him.”
Ox scooted his chair back, bumping the patron behind him, who responded with a dirty look.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, struggling to his feet.
I tried to slip by, but my feet got tangled in his rubber donut that had slipped to the floor. By the time I had extricated myself, Earl and the redhead were long gone.
The date was everything Earl had hoped it would be.
Jessica was attentive and a good conversationalist. She seemed genuinely interested in him. He felt guilty about lying to her, but he wanted to make sure that her interest was in himself as a person and not his money.
As they talked, he found himself mesmerized by her beautiful blue eyes and he had to force himself to not stare.
On several occasions, their knees touched under the table, sending a shivver up his spine.
It was a twenty-minute drive from Independence back to Jessica’s apartment. As they headed west on I-70, they could see the lights of Kansas City’s skyline in the distance.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Jessica said.
Earl drew a deep breath, “Indeed it is --- and so are you, Jessica.”
It wasn’t the smoothest line in the world, but Earl desperately wanted her to know what he was feeling.”
He waited breathlessly for her response.
She didn’t reply. She simply slid her hand across the seat and placed it on his thigh. He put his hand over hers and they drove in silence until they reached her apartment.
Earl pulled the car into the lot and there was an awkward silence.
Finally Jessica whispered softly, “Would you like to come up to my apartment?”
Lady Justice and the Lottery Page 11