“We were supposed to have a meeting to negotiate with Jolly Boy this week. Tommy was our lead representative.” Jane tensed. “I honestly don’t know how we can do it without Tommy. Tommy was a leader. He was a little older than the others, and the workers looked up to him.”
Michael nodded, although he had never really met Tommy. Most of his interactions were with Pace and sometimes Tommy’s wife, Elana. But Michael knew that Pace was a leader. It was a skill he had probably inherited from his dad.
Michael handed the article back to Jane.
“His family thinks he might be sick, but they didn’t know any details.”
Jane nodded, considering whether to trust Michael and Kermit.
“He was dying,” she said, eventually. Jane placed the newspaper article back on her desk. “He had cancer.”
“The big C.” Kermit looked up at the ceiling, drifting away in his own thoughts.
“I took him to a free clinic in Miami and got the diagnosis,” Jane said. “We talked about whether he should go home, but Tommy said his family needed the money and he wanted to work.” She looked away. “That’s when he also decided to fight. He wanted to improve the conditions of the workers, and we were making some progress. Then he disappeared.”
Jane looked at the picture of Tommy holding the sign.
“I was kind of hoping he had gone home, but now you’re here looking for him.” She shook her head.
“We’ll figure out what to do.” Michael knew he sounded silly as soon as he heard himself say it. He had no idea what to do. But before he could recover, a loud, rusted pickup truck stopped in front of the office.
There were three young white kids in the front, and another four in the open back of the truck. All of them were drinking. Music blasted from the truck’s aftermarket speakers, and the driver revved the engine.
Kermit, Michael, and Jane turned, trying to figure out what they were yelling.
One of the boys in the back stood up. He had a short, military-style haircut, although he was way too young to be in the military.
He narrowed his eyes and pinched his lips together in concentration. Then his arm cocked back. He threw a paper bag at the office’s large plate-glass window.
It hit with a thud.
The bag broke and a brown mass of feces ran down the window.
Kermit, Michael and Jane sat frozen. Before any of them could move, the truck sped away with the horn sounding, “Dixie,” like the General Lee in the old “Dukes of Hazzard” television show.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Michael said.
“Welcome to the other Florida.” Jane looked up at the faded and peeling paint on the ceiling. She closed her eyes, almost ready to cry. “If you’re looking for retirees, South Beach and Disney World, you’ve got the wrong one. This part of Florida is still fighting the Civil War.”
Kermit stood. He clapped his hands together.
“Time to find a bar, yo.”
CHAPTER SIX
The bar was about a half-mile from downtown, but clearly a part of “old” Jesser. Jane said it was a safe place to talk.
As they drove, Jane narrated the local landmarks. The businesses and the people they saw quickly fell into one of three categories. Either they were friends, enemies or enablers.
Jane was most frustrated with the enablers. These were people who lived their lives ignorant of what was happening to the workers in the fields and who were comfortable taking money from anybody who had it.
“They just don’t care. They just want a lot of stuff as cheaply as possible.”
Jane stopped rambling about systems and hierarchy. She pointed at a squat, concrete building with a gravel parking lot.
“But these folks are friends,” she said, directing Michael to turn.
Michael drove into the lot, parked, and they got out.
The cinderblock building was a bar. It had a few small windows, with lighted signs for Bud and Coors. Metal bars stretched over each; it was unclear whether they were keeping people out or keeping people in.
On the top of the building, there was a rusted neon sign with a flashing arrow designating the site as, ‘The Box Bar.’ Michael looked at the sign, then at the building.
“Aptly named.”
They started walking toward the door, and Michael felt his stomach growl. The sun was setting and he realized that he hadn’t really eaten anything all day.
“Does this place have food?”
“Sort of,” Jane said. “Greasy food, beer, and free popcorn.”
Michael nodded.
“Perfect.”
As they walked inside the front door, a stream of light cut through the darkness, and then disappeared as soon as the door closed. The regulars had already found their places at the bar. They were settled in for the night and didn’t really give them a second look.
“There’s my little Janie!” A large Hispanic man with a ponytail emerged from the kitchen. “We’ve been missing you.” He walked over to them and gave Jane a big hug. He stepped back. “Who are your friends?”
Michael extended his hand.
“I’m Michael Collins and this is Kermit Guillardo.” The man pushed Michael’s hand to the side. He wrapped his arms around Michael and lifted him into the air.
“I’m Tyco,” he laughed. “Handshakes are for the suits.” Tyco set Michael down, and stepped back. “Here at the Box, friends are family, and family don’t shake hands like we got poles up our asses.”
Kermit laughed.
“I like this big hombre.” Kermit pushed past Michael, and then he wrapped Tyco in a giant bear hug. “Let us begin our brotherhood, mi amigo.”
###
They sat around a table in the back and shared a basket of salty popcorn and a pitcher of beer. Before the waitress made it to the table to take their food order, Michael asked, “You mentioned negotiations?”
Jane just shook her head.
“Doomed and probably cancelled. I’ve got a message from their lawyer, but I don’t want to return his call.” She stopped tracing the edge of her glass with her finger, picked it up, and finished her beer. “I was counting on those, too. We’re running out of money, haven’t had a grant in two years, and I was hoping to show funders that we were actually doing some good.”
Jane made eye contact with the waitress, and the waitress started waddling over to the table.
“Another round?” the waitress asked.
Jane nodded, and then the waitress poured the remaining beer in their glasses, evenly distributing what was left in the pitcher.
“Food?”
She took their orders, writing code on her pad of paper. Then she turned and waddled back to the bar to place their order.
Jane ate a few pieces of popcorn and then continued talking.
“With Tommy gone, rumors are starting to circulate,” she said. “A lot of people think that Jolly Boy farms had him deported, and I had thought that maybe he just went home, sick. Now I don’t know what happened to him.”
“That doesn’t sound like doom.” Michael tried to be comforting. “You still have others for the negotiations.” Michael thought about the newspaper article. “What about the other protesters in that picture?”
Jane shook her head.
“They’re spooked. Some of them already left town. Some are preparing to leave town. If you get deported, come back and then get caught, you could go to federal prison. None of them want that.”
Jane started to continue, stopped herself, and then she lowered her voice.
“Then there’s the big rumor,” Jane paused, “that Jolly Boy had Tommy killed.”
###
The waitress kept bringing drinks until the mood loosened. Eventually Kermit revealed Michael’s most well-known secret.
“Dude’s a lawyer,” he said. “Can you believe it?”
Jane looked at Michael, smiling.
“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t believe it.”
Michael didn’t
say anything. What was there to say? It was too complicated to explain. Instead, he focused on drinking the remaining liquid in his bottle.
Kermit prattled on.
“Big time. The dude was big time. I seen him work his legal voodoo, pretty impressive.” Kermit stuffed a handful of popcorn in his mouth. “My bro cleans up real good. He could sue those Jolly Boy bastards.”
Jane started to laugh, and Michael raised his hand.
“Enough,” he said. “I’m retired.”
Kermit shook his head.
“My man’s not retired.”
“I’m retired,” Michael insisted, raising his bottle and his voice. Michael placed his other hand over his heart, taking a new oath. “No more suits, neither lawsuits nor navy pin-stripe suits. This I do pledge.” He was only in Jesser to find out what happened to Tommy Estrada, and that was it.
###
Conversation wound around to lighter topics. Eventually Tyco rang a bell at the corner of the bar and flashed the lights. The patrons groaned.
They settled their bills, and then Michael, Kermit and Jane stumbled out into the parking lot.
It was dark. The sky stretched above them. No tall buildings or bright lights were there to break the night apart.
Hundreds of stars dotted the sky, and crickets rubbed away in the background.
“You got a place to stay?” Jane put an arm around Michael.
“We’ll find a hotel.” Michael unlocked the rental SUV, and slid Jane into the backseat. “But we’ll get you home first.”
“You’re not going to take advantage of me?”
“Not tonight.” Michael shut the door and walked around to the other side.
Before Michael opened the driver’s side door, Kermit stopped Michael.
“You know I’m no expert in the female species,” he nodded toward Jane. “But I think she wants you to take advantage of her, bro.”
“I said, ‘not tonight.’” Michael smiled, although it was a sad smile. His thoughts went back home to Hut No. 7 and, of course, Andie Larone.
###
They got two rooms at the Stay-Rite Motel. In Jesser, it was the “fancy” motel, because it had an outdoor pool. The Stay-Rite was also considered to be “new,” because it was built in 1978. The other motel had been built in 1959.
The motel had two levels with an outdoor staircase and walkway. The clerk wanted to give Michael and Kermit rooms on the second level, but Michael insisted on the first floor. Even tired and somewhat intoxicated, he was still thinking about an escape.
Michael handed his credit card to the clerk. She ran it through the machine, and then she handed it back to Michael along with the keys. No further words or pleasantries were exchanged. Everybody just wanted to go to bed.
Michael looked down at the numbers on the keys. He handed one key to Kermit as they walked out the door.
“Must be this way.” Michael turned and followed the numbers. “You need your stuff out of the car?”
Kermit shook his head as they walked.
“I sleep all natural, baby, and that’s what I intend to do.”
A little further down the walkway, Michael pointed at a door.
“Well, this is you. See you in the morning.”
“Bright and early, boss.” Kermit stuck his key in the lock, opened the door, and disappeared inside.
Michael walked to the next door. He started to put his key in the lock, but hesitated as he turned it.
There was a window next to the door. He looked at the reflection.
He saw the parking lot and the street, and then a dark blue Ford Taurus. Michael continued to open the door, while still looking at the reflection. He watched the Taurus slow, just a bit, as it continued past the motel.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Michael and Kermit arrived at Jane’s office the next morning with a large container of Joe-To-Go from Cosmic Coffee in Fort Myers and a box of Krispy-Kremes. Good coffee was essential and worth the drive.
Jane sat alone at her desk. All the lights were off.
Kermit raised the box of doughnuts above his head with one hand.
“Breakfast of champions,” he said while Michael turned on the lights.
Kermit put the box of doughnuts and coffee down on one of the tables in the center of the room.
“Please turn the lights back off and stop talking.” Jane swiveled around in her chair. She slouched low. “And please take a few steps back. You’re making me sick.” Jane wore jeans, no make-up, flat hair, and large sunglasses. “Your voice hurts my head.”
“Just part of life.” Michael unscrewed the top of the coffee container. “You actually get used to Kermit’s sound and smell after awhile.” He poured Jane a cup of coffee and handed it to her. “Now we have to find Tommy.”
“Seriously?” Jane asked.
“Seriously,” Michael said. “So what’s the plan?”
###
They pulled off to the side of the road. Michael looked out across the field and saw about 50 heads bobbing up and down between the rows of tomato plants. He had no plan of his own, but this one hadn’t sounded particularly good. In fact, it sounded a lot like he and Kermit would end up being visited by Deputy Maus again and spend the next few nights in jail.
“I’m not thinking that any of them are going to talk to us,” Michael said.
“I know one who will talk to me.” Jane unlocked the door and got out. She was three steps into the field before Michael and Kermit caught up to her. Jane still had her sunglasses on, but the coffee and sugar had kicked in. Her fight was back.
“I’m just not sure this is,” Michael dodged a hole in the dirt, “particularly subtle.”
Kermit had the same doubts as Michael.
“Are we going to end up back in lock-up? I’m not an animal that does well in a caged environment.” Kermit took a step around a tomato plant. “Plus the jail’s fluorescent lights mess with my brain, yo.”
Jane stopped, turned, and her two followers almost collided into her.
Jane looked Kermit in the eye. Mischief washed across her face.
“I don’t know if we’re going to end up in jail or not, but at this point in my career, I don’t really care. Do you two want to find Tommy or not?”
###
Subtlety may be many things, but it has never been defined as two white lawyers and a dreadlocked stoner standing in a field of migrant farm workers.
Jane’s “friend” was immediately spooked by her presence.
“Trying to get me fired?” He looked around. Then he picked up his basket and started walking away, waiving them off. “Leave me.”
“I need to talk to you about Tommy.”
“He’s gone.” The man continued walking, but Jane kept after him. “You harass me. You keep calling me. You keep coming here. I got nothing for you.”
“That’s not true.” Jane caught up to the man and grabbed his arm. The basket that he was holding shook. A few hard, green tomatoes fell to the ground. “I want to know where he is.”
“Let go of my arm.” The man pulled free, knelt, and picked the tomatoes up off the ground. He put them back in the basket. He started to walk away, again.
“I’m not in the mood, Roberto.” Jane followed. “You owe me.”
Michael and Kermit watched from a short distance. To the extent that someone had overlooked their presence before, everyone noticed them now. The workers around them stopped picking. They stood, stared, and listened.
Michael figured that they had about five minutes before Deputy Maus found them and hauled them back to jail.
“Roberto, don’t walk away from me.” Jane took three fast steps and caught his arm. With a deliberate swipe, she knocked his basket of tomatoes to the ground.
“What are you doing?” Roberto looked at two hours of work scattered in the dirt.
“I’m trying to help your cousin.”
“Help?” Roberto shook his head. “You got him killed.”
“He was dying an
yway and you know it.” Jane looked around. She didn’t care who heard her. “These fields – the chemicals that you’re breathing right now – the fields were killing him.”
“You’re crazy.” Roberto knelt again to pick up the scattered tomatoes. This time Jane knelt next to him.
“Listen, Roberto, I know everything about you.” Her voice was soft, but sharp. She had Roberto’s attention. “I know everything. You know what that means? Do you really understand what that means for you?” She held up a finger. “One phone call and you’re going to prison. Just one.”
“You can’t do that,” Roberto said. “It’s confidential.”
“It’s actually called attorney-client privilege.” Jane jabbed Roberto’s chest with her finger. “And I’m at the end. I’ve got no other options.” She got even closer to Roberto, quietly pleading. “Give me a name. Give me something to go on. Anything.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
They waited until dusk to meet again. Jane had work at the office, and Michael and Kermit needed to call Pace and his family. It wasn’t an easy phone call and there wasn’t much to say. Tommy was still missing.
The only lead they had gotten was from Tommy’s cousin, Roberto. But calling it a “lead” was a stretch. Michael didn’t want to unnecessarily raise their hopes.
He had also thought about telling the family about the protest and about Tommy’s cancer, but Michael held the information back. That’s what lawyers did.
A lawyer should never give a client bad news without having something else to offer. Michael had been trained to tell people bad news, and then paid to tell them how it was going to be fixed. If he hadn’t known how to fix it at the time, he waited until he did know. If he couldn’t fix it, then he’d spend his time thinking about how to blame the problem on somebody else. That’s what lawyers did, Michael thought. They held information back. It was usually better that way.
The bottom line was that making the family wait a few hours or a day to get the full picture wasn’t going to hurt them or hurt Tommy.
J.D. Trafford - Michael Collins 02 - No Time to Die Page 3