The Greatest Good

by Craig N Hooper

  I didn’t let it go. “Maybe the governor hired him to check up on me. That’s all I can think.”

  Frank eyed me. “Maybe, maybe not.” He walked to his desk and sat down. “Who knows and who cares anyway?”

  I leaned on his desk. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He pointed at me again. “For the last time, you’re off protection and not on the case, so drop it. Now let me get back to work.”

  “One last thing, Frank, I promise that’s all.”

  He sighed. “What?”

  “Are you really putting Labonte and Pepper on protection? I don’t think Stanley is in any danger, but I want to be extra cautious, and I don’t trust those guys.”

  “I have to. And before you question me on that, I get your concern, believe me, I share it, but Stanley will be contained by tonight. I think they can handle it.”

  “Contained?”

  “The governor is pulling Stanley from the hospital this afternoon. There are too many entrances and exits to worry about, and too many people in and out of the hospital. He’s paranoid, you know.”

  “Where’s the kid going?”

  “Home, with twenty-four-hour nursing care.”

  I gave Frank a look.

  “They can at least handle a home assignment,” he said. “In fact, I’m going to put them both on the evening shift. One inside the house and the other outside.”

  “So you’re going to double down on two incompetent people?”

  “Out.” He pointed at the door. “It’s not your problem to worry about, got it?”

  I opened the door.

  “One more thing,” Frank said. “The governor wants you to drop off the Lexus at Stanley’s house as soon as you can. And then you’re done with this case for good, got it?”

  I nodded and walked out.

  There wasn’t a chance I was going to drop Stanley’s case. After all, the case was about me, likely from a questionable mission I’d had with The Activity. I had to figure out what was going on and neutralize the threat. That way I could prove to the judge that I could provide a safe environment for Simon.

  So, instead of dropping the case, I went straight into investigative mode. I took the stairs to my office and checked my email, hoping Mick had responded.

  He hadn’t.

  While I drummed my fingers on the desk, I looked at my office phone and wondered if I should use it. I had a number of buddies and associates in the intelligence world I wanted to call. If Mick wasn’t available, I had other options. As I looked at the phone, however, I knew it wasn’t a good idea to call from my office. Frank could find out.

  I grabbed my old-school rolodex from a desk drawer and drove back to the motel. I set the phone on the chrome kitchen table and got to work, reviewing all my various contacts from my operative days. I settled on six people to call; people I knew were still in government intelligence. All six calls went to voicemail, however. I found a seventh person to call, but when that call went straight to voicemail, I slammed the phone down. I wanted answers. I wanted progress. And I wasn’t getting either.

  To cool off, I took a walk to my local surf shop to get some new clothes. Along the way, I realized what a hypocrite I was being, since I didn’t even own a cellphone. People had a hard time getting in touch with me, so who was I to judge a person who didn’t answer their phone? Besides, the number I was calling from was foreign to the person on the other end. The person probably thought I was a telemarketer and didn’t dare answer.

  At the surf shop I purchased a collared shirt, a new pair of dark jeans, and some Vans shoes. When I got back to the motel, I called the seven numbers again. Nobody answered, of course. This time, however, I left a quick voicemail and told the person to call my beeper number. After that, I showered, changed into my new clothes, and headed to Casa D’Amici to meet Eva.

  I made it to the restaurant a few minutes early. It was a modern Italian place that Eva said had been featured on Food Network. Naturally, it was busy. What surprised me were the number of servers, greeters, and managers on duty, which added to the overall chaos. Everybody was running around attending to people or trying to look busy. It reminded me of the chaos that ensued on the patio after Stanley was shot.

  Eva wasn’t there yet so I checked in with a greeter. Two people escorted me to our table. I sat and drank water. Though Eva insisted I be there at 8:15 sharp, she didn’t roll in until twelve minutes past that time. She weaved through the tables wearing the same power suit as this morning. Her hair was down. It flowed and bounced with each confident stride. She looked striking. I forgot all about punctuality.

  I stood, but didn’t pull out her chair. I did that on our first date and she almost popped me in the face.

  “Garrison,” she said, nodding from ten feet away.

  “Evangeline.”

  She stopped in her tracks. I’d forgotten she had the opposite view from mine. She hated her full name. “Sorry, Eva.”

  She took a seat, no smile.

  “I’ll start with a drink,” she said. “I know you need one.”

  “How about a bottle?”

  She leaned forward, still no smile. “How about two?”

  “You had a rough day as well?”

  “You could say that, but not nearly as bad as yours. Tell me more. We didn’t get to cover too much at the hospital.”

  I smiled. “Why don’t we mix it up a bit? I’d love to hear about your day first.”

  She sighed.

  “Right,” I said. “Can’t talk about it.”

  “Naturally.”

  The sommelier interrupted us. “Something to drink for you two?”

  I ordered a Zinfandel from Paso Robles, California. Eva nodded her approval.

  “You’re on,” she said.

  “Let’s order first.”

  “Fine.” She picked up the menu.

  Since I always ordered risotto at Italian restaurants, I didn’t need to look at the menu. I spent the time instead watching Eva over the top of it. The woman was definitely sexy. It wasn’t a free-flowing, carefree sexiness, though, more of a clinical sexiness, like a hot female doctor or scientist. Her personality was a challenge, which was what intrigued me about her. I wondered if her personality was truly rigid and harsh, or if it was a product of working in a man’s profession. Maybe she just wanted some respect in her profession and carried herself accordingly. All I wanted was to crack her shell, make her laugh, and watch her shake her hair. Heck, right now I’d settle for a smile.

  She snapped the menu shut. “So, let’s hear it.”

  “No pad and pen?” I smiled.

  She didn’t.

  “Listen,” I said.

  “Excuse me, sir.” The sommelier stood to my right with a bottle splayed over his forearm. I nodded and he uncorked it, then he poured a splash and slid the glass toward me. Eva jumped in and redirected the glass her way, like a true control freak. I watched her take a sip and swallow, then subtly mop the wine from her lips with the tip of her tongue.

  Eva nodded to the sommelier, then told him what she wanted for dinner, even though I was positive she knew he didn’t take food orders. To his credit, he never said a word, just nodded along and poured two glasses of wine. I followed suit and ordered.

  We took sips, then Eva put down her glass and stared at me. She wasn’t going to ask again about my day. She was above that.

  I told her everything. I relayed more details about Stanley’s shooter, and how I didn’t catch him. I asked her about Agent Gates, but she’d never heard of the man. I talked about how I bumped into the governor at the hospital and he yanked me off protection. And how Frank officially took me off unofficial work.

  “So what are you going to do now?” she asked.

  I leaned forward. “Figure this whole situation out. What else would I do?”

  “Do you think that’s wise?” Eva slid her slender arm across the table and touched my hand. She had long, thin fingers and beautifully manicured nails. In
contrast, her touch was slightly clammy. “What about Simon, Garrison? Won’t this jeopardize your chances with custody? Aren’t you thinking about him?”

  I pulled my hand back. “Of course I’m thinking about him. That’s all I think about.”

  The table beside us looked over. I realized my voice had gotten loud, so I took a second to compose myself, then proceeded in a soft tone. “I know I’ve basically lost the hearing, and that guts me more than you can imagine. But all I can do is pursue this, figure things out, make a safe home for Simon, and restore my reputation. If I don’t, I’ll have to send my son cards on his birthday, for crying out loud. I’ll have to sneak into Little League games to watch him play. And I won’t end up that type of father. I won’t. I refuse.”

  “You’re being dramatic, Garrison.” She stated it plainly, with a half-smile.

  I was about to unleash on her, but checked myself. Eva’s comment was probably her twisted way of telling me that everything would be okay. She didn’t have kids, so she hadn’t a clue what it would feel like to be forbidden from seeing them.

  “Well, I have to do something,” I said. “What would you do in my situation?”

  She took a sip of wine, then leaned forward. “I don’t have kids, or even want any for that matter, but I if I did, I imagine I’d do anything for them. So, yes, I guess you’re right, you should pursue this.” She finally smiled, something she should do more often. “Pursue this with everything you have, Garrison. I mean it. To the very end.”

  Since her smile appeared genuine, I wondered if the ice queen was melting. Maybe I had finally cracked her shell.

  Our dinner came and the conversation turned to food for a while. Eva talked about how well her dinner complemented the different nuances of the Zinfandel. During dessert, we discussed Special Agent Anfernee Gates. Eva seemed especially interested in Gates, asking me tons of questions about him and strategizing how best to handle the situation.

  I was about to suggest an after-dinner drink when two people walked into the restaurant and caught my attention. They were two people I couldn’t believe were together. Two people I never in my life thought I’d see together. It didn’t make sense, not at all, not in the world I inhabited.

  I watched the hostess seat the couple. I guess my mouth was open or my eyes were bugged out because Eva asked, “What’s wrong, Garrison? Your dead father walk in or something?”

  I didn’t respond. I stared at Gina, my ex-wife, then my eyes locked onto her date. My mind replayed what Gina had said about the Infiniti earlier in the day: ‘My new boyfriend bought me this. You know him, by the way’.

  I sure did. The bastard sitting across from Gina was my court-ordered therapist, Dr. Frances Julian, an effeminate man I nicknamed Doc Jules. He was the man I was forced to spend an hour with once a week for an entire year.

  I grabbed my water glass and downed the contents.

  “What’s going on?” Eva said. “Don’t break the glass, Garrison, your knuckles are all white.” She turned her head and followed my gaze. “Who are you looking at?”

  “Nobody.” I relaxed my grip and took a breath. I looked at Eva and felt my face turn red. I saw raging white spots when I blinked. “It’s my stomach, something didn’t quite agree with me. I’ll be right back.” I headed to the bathroom.

  “Garrison,” Eva said after me.

  I ignored her and hurried to the men’s room. Naturally, I wanted to charge their table and clothesline my therapist, but I held back. I went to the bathroom and splashed water onto my face to cool down. How could this be happening? It had to be a violation of the therapist/client relationship. There had to be some sort of ethical code he was violating. Right?

  I looked at myself in the mirror. I realized my face wasn’t getting better because I was gripping the edge of the sink with the intention of crushing it; so I let go and splashed more water onto my face. When I finished, another man rolled into the bathroom. I grabbed some paper towels and took a seat in a stall.

  I sat there for some time, reviewing in my mind what I’d actually revealed to Jules.

  After that, I thought about the doc himself. When I first met the man, I pegged him as smarmy and untrustworthy. Then a few months later I found out he’d been to college with Gina, and I lost it. The doc didn’t seem to have a problem with the connection, but I certainly did. So I looked into switching therapists, but when I learned if I switched therapists I couldn’t bank the months I’d already put in, I laid that idea to rest.

  I dabbed at my forehead with the paper towels. Perhaps I had everything wrong. Maybe Jules and Gina were just two old college friends having dinner together. But then why would they be at a romantic Italian restaurant?

  Nope, I was right. Unbelievable. They must be dating. I knew I should’ve trusted my instincts with that man.

  I banged the stall door open and walked back to the table. About halfway there, the sommelier met me. He matched my stride and handed me the bill.

  “She just left, sir. She paid for half.”

  I saw our empty table and looked at my watch. I’d been gone about thirteen minutes. I looked past the table and saw Gina looking at me.

  She smiled when our eyes met.

  CHAPTER 9

  Iwalked calmly out of the restaurant.

  As I did, I tried to breathe smoothly in hopes of dissipating the redness of my face. Outside, I noticed Gina’s Infiniti just happened to be parked next to the Lexus. It was a good thing I didn’t have my car. If I were driving my green ’86 Chevy Caprice, I may have backed up and used the trailer hitch to do some damage to the Infiniti.

  I hopped into the Lexus and started driving. The vision of Simon and my ex-therapist filled my mind. Had they spent time together? Had they actually interacted? I envisioned Jules pushing my son in a swing at our local park, then I saw them playing together in the sand at the beach. Tempted to swerve into oncoming traffic, I pulled the Lexus over and tried to force Jules and Simon from my mind.

  I rolled down the windows and let the sea breeze in. The sounds of Long Beach buzzed in the background. In an effort to clear my thoughts, I focused on the steady noise for maybe five or ten minutes. I wasn’t sure how long. When a city bus pulled in behind me and flashed its giant, bright lights, I snapped out of it and pulled away from the bus-loading zone.

  Fifteen minutes later I found myself near Stanley’s house. I had to drop off the Lexus, but I also wanted to check up on Labonte and Pepper. I didn’t trust them to do a good job. I felt it necessary to back up Stanley’s backup. Now that I was off protection, I didn’t think Stanley would be in danger, but I wanted to keep an eye on him tonight and make sure of it. Besides, if I went back to the motel, I knew I wouldn’t sleep, not with everything that had happened today.

  I parked the Lexus by the red-painted part of the curb on the kid’s cross street. Stanley’s house was three in from the corner. Most of the Lexus was protected from view, covered by a large bush on the corner lot. Only the windshield and hood could be seen from Stanley’s yard. If anyone involved in the case spotted me, I’d pull into Stanley’s driveway and tell the person I was dropping off the SUV as requested.

  Labonte had outside duty. He’d parked across the street from Stanley’s. The cruiser was pointed away from me. I could see the back of Labonte’s head. Every thirty seconds his head tilted back as he slurped from a large, Styrofoam coffee cup. Pepper was inside the house.

  I settled into the driver’s seat and rolled down the four windows. That way I could be alerted to any unusual noises in the neighborhood, and I could hear someone sneaking up behind me, which was a force of habit from my operative days.

  I sat, stared at Stanley’s house, and found myself alone with my thoughts. Which was a good thing. All day I hadn’t much opportunity to sit uninterrupted and think about what was going on. I worked through every player and situation that I’d encountered during the day. Tried to think about as many angles and possibilities as I could. It took a few hours.

/>   After that, my thoughts turned to the governor. I figured he put Agent Gates on the job to watch me. The governor wanted to back up Stanley’s choice of backup, exactly what I was doing now. Perhaps Stanley lobbied his father on my behalf, stressing how much he wanted me on protection. Maybe the governor couldn’t say no to his son, but he hired another agent to watch me. If that was the case, I could understand Gates’ beef with me because, admittedly, I wasn’t overly talkative or forthcoming with evidence, and I did lie to the police.

  That was a decent enough theory.

  Cracking my knuckles, I turned off my thoughts and looked over at the cruiser. It was quarter to three in the morning and Labonte’s head was nowhere to be seen. He’d likely fallen asleep and slumped over. Earlier I’d noticed a pocket-sized camcorder in the Lexus’s console. I picked it up and played with it until I figured out how to use it, then I left the car and crept to the cruiser, staying in the shadows of the trees and bushes that lined the sidewalk. When I reached the passenger door, I shot a thirty-second video of Labonte slumped over the wheel. Then I slipped into the car, and Labonte sprang up.

  “Mag,” he said, yawning. “You scared the hell outta me. What’re you doing here? You can’t be here.”

  “Two things,” I said. “Call me ‘Mag’ again and you’ll personally meet my Maglite flashlight, and it’s the big one with four ‘D’ batteries.” I paused.

  Labonte looked blankly at me.

  “Got it?”

  He swallowed and nodded.

  “Second, if you fall asleep again while on protection, I’ll send this video to the governor and Hornsby.” I held up the camera. “I’ll be sure to highlight the date and time.”

  He blinked. “So you’ve been watching me watch Stanley?”

  “Good thing I was.”

  “But you’re off protection and not supposed to be anywhere near this case. That’s what Frank said.”

  I jiggled the camera.

  Labonte didn’t pursue it further.

  “Keep it together, Johnny, at least for the next three hours. Stanley’s life could still be in danger. You never know.”