Ginger Snaps

by Webb Hubbell

  The judge responded, “Then you don’t need me.”

  He was about to strike his gavel when Bullock continued. “I’m sorry, your Honor. There are a couple of wrinkles.”

  Judge Houston loosed a long sigh and looked pointedly at me.

  “The first wrinkle is that the defense has asked us to hold the auction in two weeks in this courtroom.” Bullock waited. Houston pursed his lips.

  “I see no problem with an accelerated schedule as long as Marshal Maroney agrees, and you are comfortable that proper notice can be sent out.”

  “We’ll expedite notice and get all parties to waive any time requirements. The second wrinkle is that Mr. Patterson requests your presence at the auction.”

  This time Houston did not smile. “You want me to be an auctioneer?” He barked.

  I rose; it was up to me to convince the judge we needed him.

  “Your Honor, I think you remember our first day in court. My client couldn’t be here, but his wife was present.”

  His face relaxed into a smile. “Yes, I remember Mrs. Stewart very well.”

  “Well, Mrs. Stewart was pretty freaked out, if you don’t mind the phrase. Someone unknown to her used an axe to crash through her front door, haul her furnishings away, pile her clothes in the middle of the floor, and seal her home with yellow tape. Not only was she frightened, she felt violated.” I paused letting the image sink in.

  “I’ve explained to her the law of civil forfeiture: that even if her husband isn’t charged, his assets can be seized and sold, but she’s not convinced that action is constitutional. She was impressed with the Court’s demeanor and fairness that first day in court. She has agreed to the settlement and the auction if, and only if, you agree to be present. She’s not comfortable with the prosecution, and who can blame her? Dr. Stewart is God knows where, and she’s all alone.”

  Maggie had slipped quietly back into the room. The judge looked at me for some time without comment. Finally he smiled. “Well, I can’t see any harm in attending. It might be beneficial for me to watch one of these auctions first hand.”

  I said, “Thank you, your Honor. I know Ms. Stewart will appreciate your forbearance and courtesy.”

  Maggie whispered, “You ought to be ashamed.”

  The judge banged his gavel. “Assuming an agreement is reached in writing and approved by the Court on Monday, on a week from Wednesday at ten in the morning Marshal Maroney will hold an auction in this courtroom. Don’t disappoint me, gentlemen. I expect everything to be signed, sealed, and in proper order.” He rose abruptly and left. Bullock stopped by our table to say we could expect a draft agreement this afternoon.

  The party was over and soon only Maggie and I remained in the courtroom.

  “I take it, Jack, that you’re way out on a limb. Do you have a safety net?”

  “Not really. If truth be known, I’m further out on that limb than you know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve agreed to settle a civil case, believing I can outsmart an opposition that’s been ahead of me the whole time. Liz and Doug trust me. I hope I can pull it off. I can’t see another choice. I can’t see any other way to save Doug and his research.”

  Maggie smiled and gave in. “Okay, what’s first?”

  “We pay a visit to Micki. Eric may kill me—though he may have to wait in line—but I have to talk to her. I need her help.”

  41

  ERIC STOOD OUTSIDE Micki’s door, clearly ready to defend it against all comers.

  “Jack, please don’t bother Micki. I know you mean well, but . . .”

  “I promise I won’t be long, and if I know Micki, she’s been pestering you to get out of here so she can get back to work. All I’m going to do is tell her what’s going on, reassure her that we’re doing all we can, and encourage her to stay away.”

  Eric didn’t believe a word, but knew he couldn’t really keep me away from my partner and friend without both of us going ballistic.

  He sighed and moved away reluctantly. “Okay, but don’t take too long.”

  “Promise.” I went through the door, closing it firmly behind me.

  Micki was watching an old movie. Her eyes looked hollow inside dark circles. Her skin was no longer grey, but still pale and she was incredibly thin. The blue and black from the bruising was now pooling in her legs.

  “Hi, beautiful.” I gave her an unconcerned smile.

  Her voice was hoarse. “If you mean that, come give me a kiss.”

  I bent over the bed to kiss her cheek, but her hand went to my head and she gave me a quick soft kiss on the mouth. I lingered a bit, reassured by the taste of the Micki I knew.

  My eyes begged the question.

  “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked, but I miss you, and he’s got to loosen up, or it won’t work. He’s very sweet, but I don’t need a mother hen.” I assumed she meant Eric. “What I need is to get out of here.” Her voice was strong and firm.

  “When do they think you can leave?” I asked.

  “Eric says in a few days, but I think he’s just stalling. When I do get home, he says no riding horses and no work. I know he means well, but jeez, I’ve got a life—why does he have to be so controlling? Speaking of—what’s happening? Bring me up to date. What’s going on with Doug and Liz? I’m dying of boredom.”

  I pulled up the chair and filled her in. Eric stuck his head in the door a couple of times, but left when Micki scowled. Didn’t he have his own patients?

  I tried to tell her about our meeting with Novak, but she was clearly troubled—too much water under that bridge. She had no footing in our current reality. So I told her about Liz and her revelations and what had happened in court.

  She had closed her eyes—I couldn’t tell whether she was thinking or asleep, so unlike the Micki I knew. I rose to leave, but her hand pulled me back.

  Her eyes didn’t open, but her hand felt warm and strong. “When you get back from DC, you and Maggie stay at my place. Debbie too. That way Clovis can have us all in one place. What do you think?”

  “That’s part of why I’m here. I need your help, but not if it jeopardizes your health.”

  “I’m okay, I’m okay. I really am getting better, can’t you tell? Anyway, Eric isn’t going to let me out of his sight, especially if he hears you’re spending the night.” She tried to giggle, but it came out as a cough.

  “You’re bad, you know that? If I can convince Liz my plan is the way to go, we have less than two weeks to pull it off. I need your expertise on how this kind of auction works. I can’t afford to screw this up.”

  “My brain still works, as far as I know. You know, it could work unless they see it coming. How are you going to keep it quiet?”

  “Still working on that. I’m set to meet with Sam after I leave here, even before I see Liz. If he isn’t willing to keep an open mind, I’ll have to go to Plan B, and so far I don’t have one.”

  “Tell Debbie to come see me. Tell her I’m not mad—I know she did the right thing. We’ll have everything set up at my house by the time you get back.”

  I stood up.

  “Micki, maybe this isn’t such a good idea. You’re already worn out, and we’re just talking.”

  She gave me a dirty look. “Don’t worry so much about me. I need to get out of here; I need to get off these meds. Talk to Liz, do your thing in DC, and hurry back. We’ll be ready.”

  She closed her eyes again, and I knew it really was time to go. She fell asleep, and I lowered the back of the bed and left the room. Eric was right there, fuming. Didn’t this guy ever take a break?

  “Eric, you’re a very lucky man.” I smiled.

  He looked confused, and I didn’t give him a chance to regroup. Paul stood just a few steps away.

  “Paul, she says Eric can take her home in a couple of days. She wants all of us to join her there when we return from DC. It will be easier to guard us if we’re all in one place, but we’ll make an enticing target.”

&
nbsp; He raised his eyebrows, nodded, and pushed the elevator button. Paul wasn’t much of a talker. I turned to Eric, practically daring him to argue. He turned away with a sour look, and I walked into the elevator, relieved he had backed down.

  I glanced at my watch. I was supposed to meet Maggie and Sam for lunch at the Town Pump, a cheeseburger dive down by the river; it was Sam’s mom’s favorite, totally unknown except by long-time locals.

  Clovis had me there in no time at all. We all ordered cheeseburgers and fries—what else?—and got down to business.

  “Sam, I know if I get out of line, you’ll let me know in a hurry, right?”

  “You bet. I’ve sure done it before,” he grinned. “So, shoot.”

  “Here’s the long and short of it. Dub is going after Dr. Stewart because he can use the forfeiture process to get Doug’s research, and he’s getting paid to do it. No, I have no proof, no solid evidence. But I will, and I’m going to need your help.”

  “Good Lord. Why in the hell can’t you accept that they’re going after this guy for the forest of Mary Jane growing in his back yard? Are you really suggesting our U.S. attorney is on the take? Even for Dub that’s a reach. He’s an idiot, but dirty? Can you prove anything? Besides, it’s out of my jurisdiction. If someone is actually paying him, it’s a federal matter.”

  “Sam, hear me out. It’s not just a federal matter if it also involves kidnapping and attempted murder.”

  “Are you saying Dub Blanchard was behind your kidnapping?” he asked incredulously.

  “I didn’t say that and, in fact, I don’t think he was.”

  “Well, what’s your point?” I had to admit my side of the conversation didn’t make much sense so far.

  “Doug Stewart was growing the plants for a research project on the cancer-curing effects of marijuana and other plants. Not pain relief, but the ability to cure. The federal government has known about his research for years. At some point, someone got worried he was getting close to a breakthrough, how I don’t know, and Dub was paid to go after Doug. That same someone got even more worried when Micki and I agreed to represent Doug.”

  “Jack, you’ve been reading too many conspiracy blogs. You need help. Are you sure Moira didn’t mess with your mind?”

  I hoped he was kidding. I took a deep breath.

  “Listen, Bullock made us an incredible deal, and Dub didn’t put up a whimper—he won’t prosecute Liz, and has agreed to give her house back in exchange for our not fighting the civil forfeiture of Doug’s research.”

  “So take it!” he exclaimed. “That’s a great deal. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, my friend. Don’t look for conspiracies. Take the deal and celebrate. Do you have any proof that the government knew he was growing grass for research? Which, for the record, is still against the law.”

  “No—as of now, I can’t prove that.”

  “O . . . kay,” he said patiently. “Any proof as to why somebody would care that Doug was getting close to a breakthrough?”

  “No proof—yet.”

  “Any idea who might have ordered the hit on Micki and you, other than Novak?”

  “Somebody sent Moira to Little Rock weeks ago. Who paid her and who ordered the hit, I don’t know.”

  “And you don’t think it was Dub?” He kept his tone serious, but couldn’t control his face.

  “No, although he may have known about it,” I said, although my heart wasn’t in it.

  Sam laughed. “Any proof that leaving Liz alone, giving her back her home, and seizing what little Doug Stewart had that can be traced to his marijuana enterprise isn’t as good a deal as it sounds?”

  “No, but I believe his research is worth a whole lot,” I answered defensively.

  “Any evidence to justify that belief?”

  “No.”

  “Jack, if I didn’t know better I’d say you’ve been eating too many of Liz Stewart’s ginger snaps.” He winked.

  “You knew about her ginger snaps?”

  “Hell, everyone in town did. As long as nobody got sick eating them, I wasn’t going to bust her bridge club. I’ve got bigger fish to fry. It sounds to me that when it comes to Dr. Stewart you’ve got nothing but vague theories. Possibly because you don’t have a defense to his growing hundreds of marijuana plants in his backyard?”

  “What about Moira? Who hired her? Someone did try to kill us.” I knew I sounded desperate.

  “That I don’t know, Jack. I’d lay odds on Novak or one of his competitors. Or maybe it’s someone from your past seeking revenge. Don’t worry—I will find him, and I’ll nail his ass to a wall. ”

  I seized on his words. “Okay, if I bring you hard evidence of who’s responsible for the kidnappings, you’ll keep an open mind to the rest?”

  “I’ll do more than that. Whoever it was, Novak, Dub, or the attorney general himself, I’ll go after him with everything I’ve got. But Jack, I’m not buying theories. I need hard evidence.”

  “That’s all I can ask.” I finally smiled.

  Neither Maggie nor Clovis had said a single word. Sam looked at them and asked, “What about you two? Are you buying this malarkey?”

  Maggie glanced at Clovis and said to Sam calmly, “Jack could be wrong this time, but somehow I don’t think so. And good burgers aren’t worth much cold.”

  So we spent a few minutes just eating our burgers. They reminded me of the ones you used to get as a kid at the swimming pool snack bar: hot, full of flavor and just a little greasy. I had accomplished my purpose. I didn’t have any proof, but I had planted a seed in the fertile ground of Sam’s mind.

  As we pushed our chairs back to leave, Sam commented, “Well, at least you have some time. Forfeiture sales don’t happen overnight. If there’s any proof out there, you’ve got plenty of time to find it.”

  In lilting tones Maggie began to hum “It’s Now or Never” and Sam bit. “Okay, what?”

  She dropped the tune, looking smug. “Jack managed to expedite the sale. It’s in less than two weeks.”

  Sam looked incredulous. “Now I know you’re crazy.”

  42

  WE WERE ALL quiet on the way to the airport—in fact, we looked like three teenagers: Maggie updating her iPhone calendar, Clovis checking his email, and me—well, I admit to checking out yesterday’s box scores. I knew they were waiting to hear what Liz had said.

  “Maggie, you were great with Sam.” I said. “Clovis, I promise I’m not crazy, at least I don’t think I am. Here’s the story.”

  Fudging about my source, I told them about the allegations against Dub and what Liz had said about Doug’s research and his spice.

  Maggie eyebrows shot up, “You mean Doug’s discovered a cure for cancer?”

  “I can’t go that far. He must have found something important enough to get the government’s attention. I think marijuana may do more than alleviate the pain of cancer and the side effects of other treatments. According to Liz, he experimented with hybrid strains, using other plants that have certain cancer-fighting characteristics, such as kale and flax, and breaking down their molecular makeup. He may have found something in all his cross-breeding that actually attacked the cancer. That’s exactly why Dub has put him out of reach—he wants to destroy every ounce of Doug’s credibility, leave him with no way to defend himself before he’s charged. The accusations against Doug as a major dealer and a seller to children would turn off anyone who might be inclined to listen to an award-winning chemist.

  “It’s not unusual for someone with a valid story or information to be attacked on a personal basis to make sure that whatever he says down the road has little credibility. It’s a hybrid form of killing the messenger when you don’t like the message. Political operatives like Dub are especially adept at this tactic. A woman roughed up by a rock star, professional athlete, or rising political star is likely to have her character dragged through the mud to prevent anyone from believing what actually happened. A whistle blower is likely to be labeled a traitor and
indicted, to prevent people from believing his or her allegations. It’s a morally repulsive tactic, but one that’s time-tested and proven to be very effective.”

  “But who would want to stop someone from finding the cure for cancer?” Maggie asked.

  “Lots of people. Think about the drug companies that manufacture current drugs and treatments. Think about the thugs who profit from illegal marijuana sales. If you really want to be conspiratorial, law enforcement has gotten a whole lot richer by pursuing the war on drugs—a war on marijuana. Forfeiture alone fattens government coffers by over two billion dollars a year. That’s more than loose change.”

  “So do you have any idea who our bad guys are?” Maggie was excited.

  “Well, no, not yet, but they must be pretty damn influential. And I think I know how to bring them in out of the shadows.”

  “How?” They asked in unison.

  “The auction. I’m relying on the auction to flush out the bad guys. But Sam shot a lot of holes in my hypothesis—and he’s right, I don’t have any proof, no hard evidence. A lot depends on what we can find out over the next week.”

  “More of a shotgun blast than a single shot, if you ask me,” Clovis deadpanned.

  “You’re right. So I need you two to plug as many of those holes as possible, while I go about getting everything in place for the auction. We need evidence.”

  No argument from either. I knew I could count on them, even if they weren’t yet convinced. If she were here, Micki would be my harshest critic, yet ready to charge the hill. I couldn’t wait to have her back.

  The flight was uneventful—always a relief. and one of Martin’s men met us in another black Tahoe. I wondered if the security business was keeping Chevrolet in business.

  We drove directly to the foundation offices, where I knew we’d be both comfortable and secure.

  “Clovis, you’ve had people check for computer intrusions at Micki’s office, the Armitage, and here at the Foundation. What else do we need to do?”

  “We’ll go over your house on Monday for bugs, and I’ve already talked to Martin about checking Maggie’s house and everyone’s cell phones again, as well as any portable devices like iPads.”