The Devil Always Collects

by John Moore

  “Are you OK, babe?” he asked.

  God, I love when he calls me babe. “I’m fine,” I said. “I really want to nail these bastards though.”

  Tom looked at me with eyes beaming with pride and said, “That’s my girl. One of my buds helped me set up a blog for you today. We didn’t know what to name it, so we called it Alex’s blog. Not too original, right?”

  “Wow, that’s awesome. I’ll call it Alex’s Daily Planet. I’ll send out emails to all of my friends and people in the media business announcing my blog and giving them the web address. First, I’ll need to run it by Jess and make sure she’s OK with it. Shouldn’t be a problem,” I said.

  My phone rang. It was my lawyer, Mr. Swartz.

  Chapter Twenty-One:

  Chasing the Evidence

  “Can you come by my office this afternoon?” Swartz asked. “There has been a development in the case.”

  “Which one? The succession or the injunction?”

  “Both, I’m afraid,” Swartz said. “Come by my office this morning and I’ll explain.”

  Oh great. More problems. I guessed it was to be expected. I was pursuing a treacherous man who didn’t hesitate to kill to protect himself. Maybe I shouldn’t go alone. Tom would probably go with me. But why not aim for the top? I decided to call Inspector Garcia. Me, a small town girl and former Cinderella, calling an Interpol agent for assistance. Who would have ever thought that would happen? She’d sent me her contact information so it was easy to ring her up.

  “Inspector Garcia, this is Alexandra. How are you today?”

  “Hi, Alexandra, please call me Sophia. Thank you for meeting with me and being so forthcoming. What can I do for you?”

  “Sophia, I am going to see my lawyer, Mr. Swartz, this afternoon and I would like you to come with me. I’m a little worried that Rogan’s thugs might come after me again,”

  “You are wise to watch your back, Alexandra. Rogan will try again for sure. I will certainly come with you.”

  “Thank you, Sophia. Can you meet me at the Starbucks by the precinct in an hour?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Sophia arrived at Starbucks before me and sat at a two-top table with her back against the wall facing the glassed front. She peered at the street outside, her dark eyes performing a thorough threat assessment on all who entered Starbucks. I thought how her job must have made her paranoid. I was now a full-fledged member of the Paranoids R Us club. I sat across from her and her darting eyes. I filled Sophia in on all the details of Sarah’s history with Mark Stevens, ACC, and Bart Rogan. She sat quietly, absorbing it all in like a dry sponge thrown in a bucket of water. Sophia listened closely to the part about the safety deposit box at Cottonport Bank in Marksville. She was as excited as I was at the prospect of getting in the box and finding the location of the sunken barge. She relished the thought of nailing Rogan.

  Suddenly Sophia jumped up and shouted, “It’s him!” She took off like a rocket toward the exit. I spun around but couldn’t see who or what she was chasing. I lost sight of her as she sprinted down the street. I sat back down at our table not really knowing what to do. Then he walked in. Bart Rogan walked in and walked right up to my table. Dressed casually, carrying a newspaper, like he was just out strolling around.

  “Lovely afternoon, isn’t it, Alexandra?” he said. “Can’t stay long. Just wanted to tell you that you have a bright future. Things could work out really well for a smart girl like you if you play your cards right. I’m sure your lawyer will give you excellent advice. Anyway, nice to see you, goodbye.”

  Just like that he was gone. I was speechless. What the hell was he talking about? What did he know about my lawyer’s advice? How did he know I was even here? Where the fuck was Sophia? My paranoia was running wild, my palms wet and a drop of sweat forming on my forehead.

  I sat at the table collecting my thoughts for five minutes before Sophia walked back in, breathing heavily. She waved me off and went to the ladies’ room. When she returned, she bought a bottle of water and sat at our table.

  She read the perplexed look on my face and asked, “Did you see him?”

  “See Rogan?” I asked.

  “Rogan? No. Did you see El Serpiente standing outside the window watching us?” she asked. “I chased him but lost him. I think he had someone waiting to pick him up in a vehicle. Why did you think I meant Rogan?”

  “Bart Rogan walked in here as soon as you were out of sight and came right up to this table,” I said.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she said. “He lured me out of the way, using El Serpiente. He knew I would give chase and I fell for it. Did he threaten you?”

  “No, he was eerily pleasant. He told me that I had a bright future and something about my lawyer giving me good advice,” I said.

  “Let’s get out of here and go see your lawyer,” Sophia said with a dark look.

  After the introductions, Mr. Swartz, Sophia and I sat at a conference room table in Swartz’s law office. Mr. Swartz advised me that Sophia’s presence waived any attorney-client privilege he and I would otherwise have. No problem, I thought. Confidentialities and secrets are what got us in this mess to start with. Tom’s words about shining light on roaches ran through my mind. I wanted the healing light of truth to bathe every crevice till Rogan and ACC couldn’t find cover.

  “Lots to talk about,” Swartz said. “I filed Sarah’s succession, putting the estate under administration and appointing you as executrix. That’s legal terminology for placing Sarah’s estate under court supervision, naming you as the estate’s representative. It is the normal way to handle matters like this. I asked the court to declare Sarah’s will valid. I also asked the court appoint a notary public to inventory the assets and liabilities of the estate. The court appointed Brad Miller, a local attorney, to that position.”

  “That all sounds good,” I said.

  “Yes, but there’s more. The court granted ACC a temporary restraining order, restraining and enjoining you as executrix and the notary public from collecting, acquiring or viewing any documents relating to ACC, any of its affiliates, agents or employees without further court order. That means we can’t get into the bank box till we have a hearing in the injunction suit filed against Sarah by ACC. They are claiming that the bank box may have documents or other information that are covered by her confidentiality agreement with them. They have convinced a judge to temporarily stop you from looking at the contents. So, the court has decided to have the attorney for ACC, a sheriff’s deputy, and me meet the notary at the bank. Then, a Cottonport Bank employee will dump the contents of the box into a large envelope, and the deputy will seal it and return it to the court. The judge intends to review the contents of the envelope in his chambers. After he views the contents, he will conduct a hearing to determine whether they are subject to the confidentiality agreement. The hearing is scheduled for one week from today.”

  “They have us blocked, haven’t they?” I asked.

  Swartz looked at me with sympathetic eyes and said, “Yes, I am afraid they do. The confidentiality agreement between Sarah and ACC is quite stringent and well written. It prevents her or you, as her legatee, from disclosing any information that may damage the company or their interests. I don’t think the judge will let you see the evidence from the safety deposit box.”

  “Those bastards think of everything. If they block us from finding Sarah’s evidence, we’ll never find the sunken barge and Rogan will get away again,” I said.

  Inspector Garcia looked at Swartz and asked, “What if the box contained evidence in an ongoing criminal investigation? Could we get it then?”

  Swartz rocked back in his chair in deep thought, “Criminal investigation, hmm. Mind you, I’m no criminal lawyer, but I don’t think the judge would or could stop criminal authorities from getting a search warrant to examine and seize the contents o
f the box if it contained evidence of criminal acts that could be prosecuted. Yes, the judge would let investigators see the box contents if those contents are evidence of criminal acts.”

  I sat up straight in my chair and said, “Great, that’s it. Sophia, you can get a search warrant to seize evidence of pollution. Problem solved.”

  Swartz responded quickly, “I said a case that could be prosecuted. The U. S. statute of limitations has run on the pollution incident. It can no longer be prosecuted here in the United States. Besides, the pollution occurred outside the jurisdiction of the United States. So, no judge is going to issue a search warrant.”

  “Oh shit, screwed again,” I said.

  “I wasn’t talking about the pollution case,” Sophia said. “I was talking about Sarah’s murder.”

  “Do you think you have probable cause to tie the contents of the bank box to Sarah’s murder?” Swartz asked.

  “Absolutely. We have Sarah’s statements to Jess Johnson and Mark Steven’s letter to Alexandra. That should be enough to get us a search warrant,” Sophia said. “We have to get Detective Baker on board with this first. Alexandra, do you think Ms. Johnson will sign an affidavit?”

  “I think so,” I said.

  “Let’s head to Ms. Johnson’s office and see her now,” Sophia said.

  “Before you go, there is something else we’ve got to talk about,” Swartz said. “ACC has made a settlement offer. I am compelled to tell you about it. It is entirely your choice whether or not to take it, but I have to tell you about it.”

  Sophia and I both looked at Swartz with perplexed looks on our faces and I said, “Settlement offer? What the hell kind of settlement do these bastards want?”

  Swartz paused for moment to choose his words carefully, “ACC offered to pay Sarah’s estate – that means you, Alexandra – $250,000 for any of the box’s contents that affect them in any manner whatsoever. Alexandra, you can walk away from this matter with enough money to fund your new business for quite some time. ACC and Rogan will disappear from your life forever. It is entirely up to you.”

  Holy shit, I thought, $250,000. I could save the farm and have plenty of money to be comfortable while I developed my business. For a second, I could see myself enjoying a carefree, Cinderella life in the Big Easy, partying at night and sleeping late. For a farm girl from Indiana, it was appealing. My mother’s written words soon bulldozed those thoughts from my mind. “Remember, Alexandra, when you make a deal with the devil, the devil always collects.”

  My blood rioted inside me to a near boil. I looked dead into Swartz’s eyes and said, “Tell those bastards to go fuck themselves!”

  Sophia had a smile from ear to ear and Swartz seemed totally pleased by my answer. He closed the file folder in his hands and said, “It’ll be my great pleasure to pass your exact words on to them.”

  Sophia and I headed to Jess’s office. I called Jess to let her know we were on our way but it wasn’t really necessary. Jess was always at her desk working. She didn’t seem to have a life outside of the newspaper business. Now the industry she loved was in danger of becoming extinct. News these days was instantly transmitted through various electronic means. A continuous stream of information, sometimes rising to the level of news but usually barely more than gossip, continuously flowed through the air. When we entered Jess’s office, she cast her wary eyes on Sophia.

  “And who might this be?” she asked.

  I introduced Sophia to Jess and brought her up to date on all that had occurred over the last few days. She seemed particularly bothered by the mention of Bart Rogan’s name. She wanted to know exactly what he’d said to me in the Starbucks. I told her how ACC seemed to have us blocked from getting into Sarah’s bank box. Then, I told her Sophia’s plan to get a search warrant issued for the contents of the box as a part of the investigation of Sarah’s murder.

  “I don’t think you will be able to get the warrant,” she said.

  Sophia looked at her with a quizzical expression and said, “Ms. Johnson, with all due respect, I’ve been in law enforcement for a long time. We have probable cause to get a search warrant. Why do you think we’ll have a problem?”

  “My sources tell me that the task force is going to be dissolved,” she said. “Sarah’s case and all of the rest of the Quarter Killer cases are going to be closed. They are convinced that Mark Stevens was the murderer.”

  “Detective Baker doesn’t think so,” I said.

  “I know he doesn’t but if he’s ordered to shut down the investigation by the higher ups he’ll have no choice but to follow orders,” she said. “The investigation will die and your probable cause will die with it.”

  Sophia looked shocked and said, “We were just at the police station and heard nothing about shutting down the investigation. What could have happened?”

  Jess had a disgusted look on her face and said, “Welcome to New Orleans politics. I’m sure Bart Rogan had his hands in there somewhere. He probably anticipated you would make a move like issuing a warrant. I’ll get Demetre on the phone, and we’ll find out what’s going on.”

  She rang Detective Baker’s desk and when he answered she asked, “What’s going on with the task force?”

  “Chief is ordering it shut down. He’s planning on making a public statement announcing that Mark Stevens was the Quarter Killer. Says New Orleans needs to be reassured there’s no danger so life can return to normal. I think it’s all bullshit and politics. There is no way Stevens did all of those murders. I tried to keep the investigation going but got overruled.”

  Sophia piped up, “Any way we can get a search warrant issued before the investigation is officially shut down?”

  “Not a chance. Rumor around here is I’m being reassigned to burglary too,” Baker said.

  “That son of a bitch,” Jess said. “OK, Demetre, thanks for the information. I’ll be in touch. Damn him. Barton has his fingers in every pie in this town. There’s more bad news coming too, I’m afraid. I’ve heard through the grape vine that Dan Broussard is buying the Times. Broussard is nothing but a straw purchaser for Rogan. If the sale goes through, they’ll stop us from publishing anything negative about ACC or Rogan.”

  Sophia sat dumbfounded. Finally, she spoke. “I’ve been all over the world and seen the law manipulated to horrific effect. But, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this. Bart Rogan has stopped us at every turn. He’s done it by using the law against us. Justice doesn’t seem to matter. Money does all of the talking and the politicians do all of the listening. Alexandra, I am afraid for your safety. Usually Rogan puts his thugs on his plane and gets them out of the country before they become suspects. We saw El Serpiente today. That means his deadly business in New Orleans is not finished.”

  “They’ve killed my mother. They’ve murdered my best friend and cost me my job. I am about to lose my family farm. What else can they do to me?” I asked.

  Chapter Twenty-Two:

  Unwelcomed Help

  Sophia and I left Jess to ponder our next move. I didn’t really know where to go or what to do. Nowhere was safe. Sophia had her gun strapped to her side but I wondered if we would even see the next attack coming. I was scared. But, it wasn’t the kind of fear that froze me in place or made me want to run. Just the opposite. I knew I had to fight to the end or lose everything. We talked as I drove but neither of us could come up with any way to get to Rogan. We seemed to be in checkmate, fatigue making it hard to think. Sophia asked me to drop her off at the Marriott on Canal Street. She needed to sleep and I needed some Tom time.

  “Alexandra, why don’t you and I spend some quality time together tonight? I had an amazing experience today. While tracking the movement of dolphins we saw a mama dolphin caught in fishing net. Other dolphins circled her protecting her from predators. Her calf stuck by her side as she struggled to get free. We moored our boat close and I dove in to try
to free her. It took more than an hour of cutting and tugging the net to get her loose. When she was finally released the whole group of dolphins circled our boat leaping from the water over and over. In our minds they were thanking us. What a feeling. I can’t wait to see you and talk about our future together.” Tom said.

  The better I got to know Tom the more my feelings for him deepened. His principals ran deep to his core. He was the kind of man I needed in my life. Why I was resisting my feeling for Tom? But battle as I might, I was falling in love with him. Was I afraid to love him for fear that he would be taken from me? Everyone I loved had been taken away from me. Was he next? If I loved him, would he be killed?

  The sun was bright in the sky and the white billowy clouds floated on the wind. But my thoughts were dark and tortured me until Tom said, “Babe, I’ll meet you at your place. We’ll order a pizza and drink some wine.”

  Oh my God did that sounded good. I couldn’t wait to get home. I arrived first and took a quick shower and put on some comfortable clothes. Pizza had become my go to comfort food like I was in college again. Tom arrived and we ordered a large spinach and mushroom pizza from a local pizza place, not one of the large chains. They used organic ingredients, bought all of their veggies from the local farmer’s market and cooked to order. It took a little longer but was certainly worth the wait.

  While waiting for the pizza, we sat at the kitchen/conference table in my kitchen. I related all of the day’s events and the near checkmate Rogan had us in. Tom flashed with fury at the harassment from Rogan and the Serpent. I must admit it excited me to witness his deep desire to protect me. I just hoped it wouldn’t get either of us killed.

  “So, let’s talk about your blog. I think it’s time to turn the spotlight on those cockroaches,” he said. “I had my friend change the name of your Wordpress blog site to Alex’s Daily Planet. All you have to do is take this username and password I’ve set for you and hit the button for new blog and start typing.”