Fatal February

by Barbara Levenson

  “You know I can’t afford to pay you nothing,” he said as he settled into the chair across from me.

  “That’s not a problem. I’m paid by the federal court to represent you, Mr. Winslow.”

  “You can call me Freddy. You mean the government pays you? That don’t sound like you’re really my lawyer.”

  Well, Freddy, you’ll have to trust me. Everyone is entitled to a lawyer in this country and if you can’t afford one, the government pays for one. Remember, the cops probably told you that when they arrested you. Have you ever been arrested before? Whatever you tell me is strictly between you and me. That’s called attorney-client privilege. I can never share it with anyone, unless you tell me I can.”

  “I was only ever arrested one other time, but that was twenty years ago, for driving with a broken headlight. Wasn’t even my truck. It belonged to the cement yard where I was working at the time. But the cop pulled me in anyway. I got out the next morning. The judge threw out the ticket too. I guess the only thing I was guilty of was driving while black, as some of the young folks say.”

  “Okay, Freddy, tell me everything about this case. The charge says drug trafficking. At the time of your arrest, were you working?”

  “No, I’m retired. I worked for Jack Reilly Construction for the last eighteen years. When I hit sixty-five, I got my Social Security and my Medicare. I was just tired of hauling and ladders and plaster and the whole bit. Millie, my wife, she retired a couple of years before me. She worked at Liberty School cafeteria for a long time.”

  “Okay, now tell me how you ended up here,” I said as I doodled on my yellow pad.

  “Well, Millie got sick two years ago. We thought it was nothing, but she got worse and worse. The doctor told us it was colon cancer and that they’d do an operation. Then there was chemo, but nothing helped. I took care of her. The only thing left they could do was give her a lot of pain pills, oxycontin and morphine.

  “Meanwhile, the bills started pouring in for the surgery and the chemo. I didn’t understand. I spent hours on the phone trying to talk to Medicare. Finally, I went down to the Medicare office, and the lady explained that they only paid for part of it. She asked didn’t I have some coverage from my job or Millie’s job for the rest. Well, we never had no coverage. Millie was considered a part-timer even though she worked at the school forever, and Reilly never would pay for no health insurance, so there we were.”

  Freddie stopped and blew his nose. I could see the tears welling up.

  “Did you talk to the hospital, Freddie? Did you try to work out something with them?”

  “They was sending us letters that they were going to sue us if I didn’t come up with some payment. I didn’t want Millie to hear this. She was in so much pain. She died in August. I took out a mortgage on our house to pay for the funeral. It was all we had and we worked real hard to pay it off. I hated to start again, but I had to give her a good funeral. The church helped a little with it.”

  “I know this is hard for you, but can you get to how you got arrested?” I asked. I hadn’t heard anything yet about a crime, except for the one the hospital committed dunning this poor guy.

  “I thought the bills would stop when I told the hospital and the doctor that Millie was gone, but they said I still owed them for all of it. One day, I told my nephew that I thought I’d have to sell the house to pay the bills. He said maybe he knew someone who could help me get some money. He asked if I still had all those pills Millie had been taking. The next day this guy called me and said he was a friend of Tavaro’s. That’s my nephew. We never had no kids of our own. The guy told me to meet him at Myrtle’s Bar, that’s a little place in our neighborhood. He said bring him some of the pills Tavaro mentioned.

  “I met him. I brought one bottle with me. He gave me five hundred dollars right there. He asked me how much more I had, and could I get more? Well, I remembered that I had a bunch of prescriptions and that some of the bottles said three refills on them. So over the next few weeks, we went around to different drugstores and got bunches of pills. I told him I didn’t want no trouble. He said I wasn’t the one selling them around and that I’d be okay. I got nine thousand dollars, and I made payments on the hospital bills, and then the DEA guys came to my house. They was a mean bunch, grabbed me when I opened the door. Told me I was under arrest and took me away. They questioned me for hours, but I told them I didn’t know nothing, even when they said I’d get twenty-five years with no parole for drug trafficking.”

  “I understand everything now. It’s true that these charges carry a twenty-five-year sentence, if you’re convicted. If you’re willing to cooperate by giving them the name of the guy who you sold to, I will work out a good deal for you. Possibly even probation since you have no prior record. Are you willing to give them information?”

  “I don’t know. That’s being a snitch. He seemed like a nice kid.”

  “How nice is he, to let you take the fall for his drug business? And how do you know that he wasn’t selling those pills to young kids who have become addicts?”

  “I guess I didn’t look at the whole picture. Give me a little time to think about it. Maybe you’re right.”

  “You can call me collect and let me know if I can start some conversations with the drug agents or the prosecutor. Here’s my card. And by the way, I want to see the hospital bills. We may have a civil case against them for charging you a lot more than they are allowed to. Medicare sets standard rates. You may end up being a rich man.”

  Freddy laughed. “That’ll be the day.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I stopped at the deli and brought sandwiches for Catherine and me. Catherine had called the three Omni Hotels. The downtown hotel told her Maddie had worked there but had been transferred. They said they couldn’t give her information about where she was working now.

  “So I told them I was planning a wedding for five hundred people, and I would only deal with Maddie Rodriguez. They told me she was in their Palm Beach hotel, and even gave me her phone number.”

  “Good job, Catherine. How’d you like to take a field trip? Let’s see if we can get her on the phone.”

  “I dialed the number and the extension. “Maddie Rodriguez. Can I help you?” the voice said.

  “Yes, Ms. Rodriguez. My name is Catherine Ayns-worth. You were highly recommended to me. I need help planning a wedding. My sister and I would like to come to see you as soon as possible. Today, if you can see us.”

  “Well, I’m pretty busy today. How about next week?”

  “This is going to be a huge affair, over five hundred people, cocktails, dinner, an orchestra. We want to spare no expense, and guests will be coming from Europe and will stay at the hotel.”

  “Well, I could make time around four this afternoon.”

  “Great, we’ll be there,” I said.

  “You’re good at this,” Catherine said as she applauded my performance.

  “Sometimes good lawyering involves good lying,” I said.

  “Are we really going to pretend to be planning a wedding? Catherine asked as we drove up the interstate.

  “No, that was just a ploy to get us in the door. I need to have two people there since I said you were bringing your sister. I don’t want her to get suspicious and turn us away. If she’s the killer, she’ll be nervous about anyone she doesn’t know. The fact that she quickly transferred to Palm Beach just adds to my suspicion.”

  “I thought Jack Brandeis looked suspicious when I was typing up your notes.”

  “I thought so too, but when I read the police report, there was a statement from a neighbor. The neighbor said a woman was seen running down the street in the vicinity of the Yarmouth house around the same time Lillian found Gary. The description said she had either blonde or red hair. Once we see Maddie, I’ll go talk to the neighbor. No witness list has come from the state attorney yet, so I can still talk to the neighbor informally without deposing her.

  “Once we get in the door,
I have a plan. Just don’t act surprised about anything I say. Take my cell phone out of my purse and keep it with you. It’s a camera phone. I want you to snap some pictures of Maddie. Do you know how to use the camera?”

  “They’re all pretty much alike. I’ll look it over. Won’t she be suspicious if I’m snapping shots of her?”

  “I’ll keep her focused on me. Your job is to take a picture without seeming to take a picture. Got it?”

  “This job is complicated, but it sure isn’t boring,” Catherine said, as she snapped my picture.

  The hotel in Palm Beach was understated elegance. A uniformed valet took the car. He glanced disapprovingly at my old SUV, and brushed the dog hair from the seat before getting in.

  “Any luggage?” he asked as he looked down his nose at us.

  “No, we’re here for a meeting, so we won’t be long. Maybe you can leave the car in front. We may be in a hurry when we leave.”

  “I don’t think my boss would like me leaving this car in front of the hotel,” he said.

  “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind” I answered, and placed a couple of bills in his hand.

  We saw him lock the car and place the key in his pocket.

  The lobby was full of French Canadians gathered around the lobby bar. At the other end a large group sported name tags that said Brazilia ’05. The din of French and Portuguese made it sound like we were in an airport in Europe. This was high season in South Florida.

  We stopped at the concierge desk and asked for the catering department and were directed to the second floor

  “Are you ready?” I asked as we approached the receptionist.

  “It’s your show,” Catherine said. “I’m just the extra.”

  “Maddie Rodriguez, please. She’s expecting us. Catherine Aynsworth.”

  We were directed to a waiting area. I busied myself looking through a copy of Brides magazine. After a few pages, I vowed that the only way I would get married was if I could elope.

  “Ms. Aynsworth?”

  I looked up and saw a young woman who personified the expression “A babe.” She exuded sexiness from her low-cut blouse showing deep cleavage to her pencil-thin skirt slit to show long legs. What drew my attention the most was her mane of hair, which was strawberry blonde. It wasn’t exactly blonde, and it wasn’t exactly red. The color reminded me of the coat of a golden retriever.

  “Is one of you Ms. Aynsworth?” Maddie asked again. We both answered.

  “Please, come in,” Maddie said. She led us down a hallway filled with tiny offices. She motioned us into one of them. I hung back and shut the door.

  Catherine and I settled in two chairs so close that we bumped elbows. Maddie sat at the tiny writing table across from us. She pulled out what looked like an order pad.

  “So, which of you is the bride?” she asked.

  “Okay, Ms. Rodriguez. The truth is we’re not here about a wedding. My name is Mary Magruder Katz. I’m an attorney and this is my assistant, Catherine Aynsworth.”

  I laid my card in front of her.

  “What do you want? What’s with the fake wedding business?”

  “I was afraid that you wouldn’t want to see an attorney, particularly one named Katz.”

  “Katz? Are you part of Jonathan Katz’s law office?” Maddie stood up and leaned toward me. Her eyes looked furious. If stares could hurt you, I’d be lying on the floor bleeding.

  “Jonathan is my brother, but we do not practice together or do anything else together either. I know you went to see him and that he told you that you weren’t left anything by Gary Yarmouth. Gary didn’t want anyone to know about you, so he didn’t let Jonathan add you to his will, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t another will.”

  “I knew it,” Maddie said as she sat down again. “No one dumps Maddie Rodriguez like yesterday’s newspaper. Hey, wait, how do you know about this?”

  “Remember, I’m a lawyer too. We have our networks. Let’s just say, I know who else was involved in that will, but I can’t reveal this yet. I have a conflict. I represent Lillian. Has the state contacted you to be a witness in her case?”

  “They’ve subpoenaed me to testify at some hearing, but I haven’t spoken to anybody about it yet.”

  “Excuse me, Maddie. Catherine, would you mind checking our phone messages at the office? Do you have your cell phone with you?”

  Catherine had been sitting transfixed as if she were watching a TV soap. She had totally forgotten about the camera phone.

  “Oh, yes, I’ll do that right away,” Catherine said and started rummaging through her huge backpack.

  “Well, once Lillian’s case is over, I can help you about the will. But if I do that now, it’ll look like I’m trying to bribe a witness. Now let me ask you a couple of questions. When did Gary buy you that little red BMW, before or after you went to New York?”

  “You know a lot. Gary must have talked to you. I get it. Okay, I can wait for you to show me the other will. He bought the car after New York. I’d been asking him for it for a while. I think that bitch, Lillian, must have found out about me and told him to get rid of me. And those brats of his; they had him wound around their fingers. But no one fucks with me like that. He was gonna buy me a little condo I had picked out, but—”Maddie didn’t finish the thought. She looked angry again and punched her fist into her order pad.

  “How’s the new job going?” I asked. “You’re not going to transfer again, are you?”

  “Not for a while. I’ve put in for a European post, but they’re hard to come by, and unfortunately, I don’t have the ability to just quit. But maybe, with this other will—”

  I interrupted her. “That’s why you need to get in touch with me, if you decide to leave the area.”

  “You got that straight,” she said.

  “We’ve taken up enough of your time. Catherine and I need to get back to the office.”

  “Thanks for coming. I’ll stay in touch,” Maddie said.

  We marched out of her office, took the stairs to the first floor, and beat it out of there.

  Traffic was at its worst. It was Friday at five in the middle of high season. Drivers from a multitude of states and countries drove in a multitude of styles, some dodging in and out of lanes, others stopping cold to read the road signs.

  “Let’s get off of suicide alley and have dinner. Who’s with your kids?”

  “I’d love dinner. My neighbor agreed to meet them after school and they’re actually going to sleep over with her kids,” Catherine said.

  We pulled off the interstate and into the parking lot at Pete’s in Ft. Lauderdale. The happy hour bar and grill was just what we needed to relax.

  “Did you get the pictures of Maddie?” I asked.

  “Sure did.” Catherine handed me the phone and I beamed up three excellent head shots.

  “How did you know about the red BMW?” Catherine asked.

  “I didn’t for sure. The police report said a neighbor of the Yarmouth’s spotted a young woman running down the street to a parked red BMW. The neighbor described the woman as having either long blonde or red hair.”

  “Wow, you hit pay dirt. This job is fun,” Catherine said as she swigged down her second beer. It was two-for-one night.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  It was after nine when I got home. I was pooped. Couldn’t wait to take a shower and collapse in front of the TV. I hoped Sam hadn’t punished me for being late with his dinner.

  As I got out of the car, I heard Sam barking in the back yard. I had left him in the house. How did he get out? He is a wonder dog, but I doubted his ability to unlock doors. I went around to the yard. Sam was jumping on the back door and barking. He was panting heavily. He must have been out there for a while. We entered through the kitchen. I flicked on the light. No notes were near the phone. My parents and my neighbor had keys to the house. They would have left a note if they’d been there. I called out, “anyone here?” Sam ran to the living room, sniffing as he went.<
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  I moved slowly into the dark room heading for the lamp by the sofa. The next thing I knew, I was on the floor. I must have tripped over something, but what? I felt around me and felt broken pieces of something sharp. Carefully I retreated to the kitchen, grabbed the flashlight by the back door, and returned to the living room.

  My heart sank as I saw what was left of my cozy hideaway. There were only two possessions that I cared about in that room. I had inherited the rocker and the hooked rug from my parents’ house. The rocker was the one each of us cuddled in with Mother when one of us was sick or scared. The rug was made by my grandmother. She brought it with her from North Carolina when my grandparents came to Florida. Everything else came from either the Goodwill store or yard sales.

  The room was a jumble of broken items. I had fallen over the pieces of the lamp. The rocker was in pieces on the rug in front of the fireplace. I found the switch for the ceiling light. The light illuminated an ugly red stain covering the rug. The drawers of my desk were on the floor, their contents strewn over the broken pieces. I realized a burglary had taken place. But how had a strange burglar lured Sam into the backyard?

  I hurried into the bedroom. I owned almost no jewelry except for the gold hoop earrings I was wearing. I didn’t have the two-karat engagement ring anymore. The only other valuables were my Grandmother Katz’s gold ring and a gold pennant my dad gave me for my sixteenth birthday. I opened the cubbyhole in my dresser. Both pieces were still there. Everything in the bedroom was intact, but there was another red stain on my flowered quilt. This was a bizarre burglary.

  I sat down in the kitchen and caught my breath. Then I dialed the Coral Gables Police. I was not going to call Carlos, again. I didn’t want him to think I was a helpless female; no, I didn’t want to think I was a helpless female. If I kept having one trouble after another, I might scare Carlos away. That thought scared me more than the burglary.