A Place in the Wind

by Suzanne Chazin

  A female volunteer discovered an open box of tampons in the bathroom that had been sitting on a shelf since La Casa closed its doors. She showed it to Adele. Inside, next to all the wrapped tampons, was a thumb-size flash drive.

  Adele mentioned it to Vega, who immediately called Greco. An hour after the Lake Holly Police took possession of the item, Vega got a call.

  “Get some popcorn,” Greco growled. “You’re gonna want to see this.”

  “What is it? Porn?”

  “Much better, my friend. Think of it as winning the lottery.”

  * * *

  There were four videos in all. Mike Carp had a starring role in every one. Not that he knew he was mugging for the cameras, of course.

  In one, he discussed with John Archer how much to bribe a zoning official. In another, he paid off a state senator. In a third, he got Langstrom to agree to drop POW’s lawsuit in return for $30,000 in cash and a promise of county funds. In the fourth, he laid out a way to funnel campaign contributions through his soon-to-be-built Crystal Springs Golf Resort.

  John Archer’s “insurance” had been sitting in a tampon box at La Casa all this time—stuck there, presumably, on the night Catherine Archer decided not to turn it over to Zoe Beck. From the settings, Vega and Greco guessed that Archer had secretly recorded them in a private dining room at the Magnolia Inn. Archer knew he was dying. He knew he wouldn’t go to jail for what was on them.

  But Carp could. And so, too, could Langstrom—which was what had made them so valuable.

  “Oh, we are going to have so much fun with this,” said Greco. “Carp wants his big Hollywood moment? I think we just might be able to hand it to him.”

  * * *

  Two weeks later, as Vega was picking up Carp in Wickford, Greco called him on his cell.

  “It’s all set. The warrants are in place. The U.S. Attorney’s Office is salivating like I just promised them a week in Vegas on the state’s dime. Powder your nose, Vega. It’s showtime.”

  “Can I make one request?” asked Vega.

  “You name it.”

  “I have a special location in Lake Holly I’d like this little party to take place in.”

  “We send cops to La Casa we’re going to make clients nervous.”

  “Not La Casa,” said Vega. “Someplace else that could use a little good publicity for a change.”

  * * *

  Carp had his head buried in paperwork that morning on the drive out of Wickford. He didn’t pay attention to where they were headed until Vega nosed the Suburban into a small strip shopping center and parked in front of Hank’s Deli.

  “What the hell are we stopping here for?”

  “Oscar Gutierrez is the owner of Hank’s,” said Vega. “You hurt his business. Now you can help it.”

  “I don’t have time to press the flesh with some taco maker.”

  A black-and-white Lake Holly patrol car pulled up behind Vega’s Suburban. The red flashing lights reflected in the rearview mirror. Vega turned off his engine, got out of the driver’s seat, and opened Carp’s rear door.

  “Get out,” Vega ordered.

  “What the hell did you just say?”

  “I said—sir—get your fat ass out of the car. You are under arrest for extortion, bribery, racketeering, official misconduct, and—” Vega scrunched up his face in mock concentration. “Oh yeah—threatening an officer of the law. Namely me.”

  Carp blinked at Vega like he’d gone crazy. But the boldness was gone. He unfolded himself from the seat of his car. Three news vans came out of nowhere. Greco had obviously tipped them off. One of the reporters was Lucy Park. Her smile had the same number of teeth in it when Carp was getting arrested as it had touring his real-estate headquarters.

  Oscar came out of his store, wiping his hands on his white apron. He suddenly understood what was happening. His storefront would be the background shot on tonight’s news. His business would be on coast-to-coast TV. It was the least Vega could do for the man.

  “You do the honors.” Greco handed Vega the handcuffs.

  “You sure?”

  Greco grinned. “I’m just another set of eyes and legs, cataracted and arthritic as they are.”

  Vega patted Carp down, snapped the cuffs on his wrists, and walked him over to Greco’s patrol car. Carp began to stammer.

  “Jimmy . . . I never . . . I did right by you. Always. That’s the truth.”

  Vega put a hand on Carp’s fish scale hair and pushed him down into the back of the patrol car. Then he leaned in and looked him in those bulging blue eyes.

  “I think you need a crash course in the law, Mr. Carp. See, there’s facts. And there’s truth. The facts are that you’re a lying, corrupt snake of a man who hurt this community and everyone in it. And the truth? The truth is the same damn thing. You know why? Because it’s always the same damn thing.”

  * * *

  Vega had done as Captain Waring had instructed. He’d kept records of all the packages he’d delivered for Mike Carp. He took notes on conversations he’d overheard. He snapped cell phone shots of some of Carp’s personal notes when Carp left them behind in the Suburban.

  As a result of the videos on the flash drive, Langstrom’s statements, and Vega’s records, the U.S. Attorney’s Office was able to build a massive corruption case. It was not only against Carp, but against several other local officials: a state regulator for the Department of Environmental Conservation, Lake Holly’s building inspector, a couple of assemblymen, some legislators in other towns. Each was eager to lessen his legal troubles by testifying against Carp.

  * * *

  Three days after his indictment, Carp resigned from office. He put the land that was supposed to be the Crystal Springs Golf Resort up for sale. Vega drove over to the campus to tell Joy the news. He was watching her closely these days, worried that after what happened with Langstrom, she might drop out of school. But when he met her, she seemed excited about her classes this semester. She thrust a flyer in his hand. It was an announcement for a protest march against the firm that was slated to purchase the Crystal Springs property. The developer was planning to build luxury housing on it.

  “So . . . now you’re protesting the houses?” Vega asked Joy.

  “We’re protesting the lack of affordable housing,” said Joy.

  “No kidding,” said Vega. “I can’t afford to live in the county.”

  “Which is why you should sign Dr. Fenter’s petition. She’s on your side.”

  She. Joy’s new professor was a she. Vega breathed a sigh of relief. His daughter had survived her ordeal. So had Adele. So had Vega.

  * * *

  The next day, Captain Waring, impressed with Vega’s work in bringing down Carp, offered him his old job back in the squad. Never had three ratty, stained fabric partitions looked so good.

  One evening after work a few weeks later, Vega pulled into Adele’s driveway and found Zimmerman and Wil in her dining room, raising a toast with a bottle of wine that Zimmerman claimed he’d been saving for “a special occasion.”

  Wil had been cleared of all charges. He didn’t have to live with Max Zimmerman anymore. Vega had expected each to go his separate way after that. But the experience had forged a bond between them. Adele told Vega that it was Zimmerman who broke the news—in Spanish—to Wil’s mother that Rolando was dead. It was Wil who contacted Zimmerman’s ex–son-in-law in California and tried to rekindle some sort of connection. After Wil’s DACA got renewed, the old man helped Wil get a driver’s permit. The last few times Vega had seen them, Wil was behind the wheel of Zimmerman’s Cadillac, while the old man coached and kvetched about his driving in equal measure.

  “So what’s the occasion?” Vega asked as he stepped into the dining room. He could smell the delicious scent of chicken and rice wafting through the house.

  “Wil’s paperwork—it came through,” said Adele.

  “I thought he already got his DACA renewed.”

  “He did,” said Adel
e. “I’m talking about his other paperwork. The visa.”

  One of Adele’s last projects before she returned full-time to La Casa was to put in a special request with U.S. Citizenship and Immigration for a humanitarian visa for Wil—so he could visit his cancer-stricken mother in Guatemala without jeopardizing his tenuous legal status.

  “So he’s going to Guatemala?”

  “Just over the spring break,” said Adele. “For two weeks.”

  “That’s . . . great.” That’s expensive, thought Vega. The kid could barely afford classes. Where was the cost of airfare coming from? Not Adele, Vega hoped.

  Adele set a plate of food in front of Vega and poured him a glass of wine. Zimmerman raised a toast. “To good people, where you find them.” Then he turned to Wil. “God bless your mother, Wil. Comfort her and then come back to us. You will always have a home with me.”

  Vega shot Adele a questioning gaze. She caught his meaning and nodded. Max Zimmerman had paid for the teenager’s trip. As unlikely as it seemed, he’d become a sort of substitute family in the young man’s life. And the young man, in his.

  “Thank you,” said Wil. “I’m very grateful. To all of you. For everything you’ve done. I don’t know if I can ever repay—”

  Zimmerman patted the teenager’s arm. “All these years, I couldn’t either. And now, like Abraham, I can.”

  Acknowledgments

  One of the things I love most about being an author is that I get to take a tour of another person’s life. None of this would be possible without the many generous people who have patiently opened up their worlds to me.

  My special thanks to Geovanny Lopez, an amazing young man, originally from Ecuador, who has lived in this country since the age of five and yet still remains on temporary legal (DACA) status. Without loans or financial aid, Geovanny managed to graduate a four-year state college with a science degree while holding down two and sometimes three jobs. His life story is entirely different from Wil Martinez’s in the book. But his heart and determination are the same. Thank you, Geo, for sharing your story with me. And thanks, too, to Graciela Heymann, executive director of the Westchester Hispanic Coalition, and Giuliana Urrelo, program director, for bringing Geovanny and his story to me. It’s my hope that our country can find a way to permanently embrace all those with DACA status and make use of their rich potential to our nation.

  I’ve also been fortunate to get to know several amazing police officers in the Ossining (NY) Police Department, who have gone above and beyond to help me understand the daily stresses of being a cop. Last year, I got to take their six-week civilian police academy course (complete with flash/bang grenades, video shooting simulations, and cool T-shirts). Many thanks to Sergeant Drew Maiorana for a great course. And an extra special thank-you to Sergeant Paul Schemmer, who patiently indulged my questions over many hours and months. You really helped me find my way around the story.

  Thanks, too, to the usual team of incredibly talented people who do so much to make these books happen. To private investigator Gene West, who is as adept at understanding characters and plot as he is at sizing up an investigation. To Rosemary Ahern, who is always my first set of eyes on a draft. To my agent, Stephany Evans, who helps navigate the journey from beginning to end. Also, thank you to Jenn Fitzpatrick, who won the Girl Scouts Heart of the Hudson auction to have her name in this book.

  A special thank-you to the crew at Kensington. There are so many wonderful people, from editorial to sales. Please know that I am grateful to you all. A special thank-you to my editor, Michaela Hamilton, and assistant editor, Norma Perez-Hernandez, for championing the series so passionately. And also to the publicity and marketing departments, including Morgan Elwell, Alexandra Nicola-jsen, and Lauren Jernigan, who work tirelessly to get the books into new hands. Thanks, too, to Kensington’s CEO Steve Zacharius and publisher Lynn Cully for their support of the series.

  Thank you most of all to my family and friends, who have to live with me through all of this: my husband, Thomas Dunne, my children, Kevin and Erica, and also Bill Hayes, Janis Pomerantz, Elizabeth Feigelson, Jennifer Greenwald, Phyllis Garito, and Elizabeth Kasulka. Thanks for keeping me grounded.

  About the Author

  Suzanne Chazin won widespread acclaim for the Jimmy Vega series, including Land of Careful Shadows, A Blossom of Bright Light, and No Witness But the Moon. She is also the author of the Georgia Skeehan mystery series, including The Fourth Angel, Flashover, and Fireplay. She has twice been the recipient of the Washington Irving Book Award for fiction. Her fiction, essays, and articles have appeared in numerous magazines and newspapers, as well as the award-winning short-story anthology Bronx Noir. She lives in the New York City area. Visit her on Facebook or at www.suzannechazin.com.