Judge and Jury

by William Bernhardt

  “Report,” Fuentes said succinctly.

  The man on the left, the bulkier one, Roberto, took the lead. Roberto was his favorite and by far the more competent of the two. His cohort, Jose, might be smarter, but that was of little consequence. This was not a business in which intellectual contemplation often produced benefits.

  “How much do you know already?” Roberto asked.

  “Assume I know nothing. Report.”

  Roberto shrugged. “The Captain is dead.”

  “Not merely wounded.”

  “The first bullet struck him in the forehead. He died at the hospital.”

  “The deputy?”

  “Also very dead.”

  “Release his wife. Make an anonymous donation for the care of his family.”

  “Generous?”

  “Sufficient. Warn her not to do anything suspicious.”

  A waitress approached, a tiny woman with blonde pigtails. Fuentes couldn’t believe she was old enough to drink in this establishment, much less to serve drinks. But he suspected she received excellent tips. Americans seemed to disfavor real women, women who looked like women, favoring non-threatening dollies like this one who looked and behaved like children.

  “Would you boys like—”

  He cut her off. “They will have the same as me. And I will have another.”

  “As you wish, boys. Be right back with that.” She winked, swiveled, swung her rear a little and bounced away.

  Americans. Mother of God, how did they ever become the leaders of the free world? “Tell me about the other three men. The ones who were arrested at the dock.”

  “Released on bail. And subsequently smuggled out of the country. They should be in El Salvador by now.”

  “Make sure that they are.”

  “I will.”

  “And the whores? The cargo?”

  “Three are still in the hospital. The others have been placed in a shelter. The authorities are discussing what to do with them.”

  “Given the current political climate, I assume they will be deported.”

  “Possibly not. There is much sympathy for them. Sweet young girls almost dissected for their choice bits. You know.”

  “Americans.”

  “Exactly. They might be adopted.”

  “They are too old to be adopted.”

  “Sponsored, then. Helped to assimilate.”

  Fuentes took a long drink of his whiskey, unable to mask his contempt. “How much do they know?”

  “About our operation? Nothing.”

  “They must have seen something.”

  “Not enough to hurt us.”

  “Or seen someone.”

  “The Captain. His three associates. But they no longer pose any threat.”

  Fabian clenched his fists. “They know how we work. How we recruit. How the operation functions.”

  “They were kept in a dark hold for days. They saw almost nothing.”

  Fabian wiped his mouth. “I will be happier when the threat is eliminated.”

  The two men exchanged a wordless glance. After a moment, Roberto spoke. “I’ll explore the possibilities and report back to you.”

  “See that you do. Now let’s discuss more important matters. Conrad Sweeney. And Daniel Pike.”

  “Sweeney is scared.”

  That was the most disheartening piece of information he had received yet. Sweeney had been the bedrock of the US end of the cartel’s smuggling for longer than he had been involved. Sweeney was the one they could always count on, the one who got things done, who could produce a miracle under the worst of circumstances. “Why do you say this?”

  “He has taken some severe blows.”

  “Haven’t we all?” Fuentes’ hands began to shake. “Does he think he is the only one who has been harmed?”

  “Of course not. But he may be the only one he cares about.”

  “These stupid federal agents have cost us millions of dollars. Maybe tens of millions, long-term.”

  “That’s the problem. Sweeney can’t afford a financial setback right now.”

  “Who can?” His neck stiffened so severely veins popped out. “This is the worst setback we have suffered in the last twenty years. Not since the days of the Sandinistas and the filthy American meddling there have we seen such a setback. Not so much because of the federales. Because of Pike. First he interferes with our operative at ICE. Then he interferes with the sex trafficking. Now he goes after the organ trafficking. Soon we will have nothing left.”

  “This is just a temporary setback. We are still strong. We are family.”

  The waitress bunny-hopped back to their table, balancing a tray with three drinks. “Here you go, boys. Do you wanna run a tab?”

  “No.” Fuentes pulled a hundred dollar bill out of his pocket without looking at it and put it on her tray. “That is for you.”

  The waitress’s eyes widened. “Oh my goodness. Thank you so much.”

  Fuentes did not even look at her. “I will see you in the alley behind this building.” He glanced at his watch. Twenty minutes from now. Midnight. You will be alone.”

  “Oh, we don’t go into the alley any more. Not since that guy got—”

  “You will be there in twenty minutes. It will not take long.”

  “Gee, mister, I don’t—”

  He pulled another bill out of his pocket and placed it on her tray. “I will see you in twenty minutes. Now go.”

  The waitress skittered away, lips parted, clearly deep in thought.

  Fuentes returned his attention to his associates. “The worst part of this is not the blow to our income, though that is significant. It is the blow to our reputation. Our business partners are unhappy, and they have every right to be.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “We must regroup. Reorganize. Develop new networks, new connections. And we must eliminate those who would defy us.”

  Roberto’s head tilted slightly. “You need Pike out of the way.”

  “One way or the other.” He picked up his drink and finished it in a single swallow. “My grandfather started this business. And I will not be the one who sees it fail. Certainly not because of some damn American lawyer.”

  Chapter 8

  Dan and the rest of the team sat in the living room/lobby of their Snell Isle mansion/office. He called them together for an organizational team meeting, and everyone had gathered on the semi-circular sofa, but he sensed he was forgetting something. Actually, he didn’t have to sense it. No psychic powers or observational insight was required.

  Jimmy was pouting.

  “Something wrong?”

  Jimmy seemed somewhat hesitant to respond. “I...uh...thought we were having a team meeting.”

  “We are.”

  “Then...aren’t we missing something?”

  Mr. K? A Kandan board? What was he talking about? “I give up. What’s missing?”

  Jimmy tucked in his chin. “Well, normally at these things...there’s a little...”

  “Food,” Garrett said. “Let me supply the last word, just to speed things along. He’s looking for the food.”

  Dan’s eyelids fluttered. “Jimmy, I just got back from the courthouse. I haven’t had time to cook.”

  “I would be willing to wait.”

  “I called the meeting now.”

  “We could reconvene in an hour....”

  “Jimmy.” He tried to put on his serious face. “While this is flattering, I don’t have time at the moment.”

  Jimmy raised his hands. “Fine, fine. I’ll survive. I just, you know, think it’s important that we maintain these traditions...”

  This sort of thing never happened at Friedman & Collins. Was he dealing with a lawyer or a twelve-year-old? Well...a twelve-year-old who was the best brief-writer in Pinellas County. And a hell of a lot more interesting than those corporate stuffed shirts. “I’m swamped at the moment, Jimmy.” Pause. “But I was thinking I might whip up some homemade ice cream later.
”

  Jimmy’s eyes widened. “The one with chocolate ganache?”

  “And almond brittle.”

  “OMG. That’s my favorite.”

  “Deal.” He widened his gaze. “So I assume everyone has heard what happened in the courtroom this morning.”

  “Sweeney threatened to destroy us,” Garrett said succinctly.

  “That’s about the size of it.”

  “And that should have been a surprise to no one. I did warn you—”

  “I know what you said. And to some extent...you were right.”

  “But it is what it is,” Maria intervened, “so we have to deal with it. We have to take this civil suit seriously. All of us.”

  “Agreed,” Jimmy said. “I like working here. I don’t want to go back to shabby offices and keeping time records. That’s so boring. And there’s no chocolate ganache.”

  “Maria is going to take point on the depositions. And there will be a lot of them. I could help, but she feels strongly that I should stay out of the way.”

  “And I’m right,” Maria added.

  “I could still—”

  “She’s right, Dan,” Jimmy interjected.

  “What he said,” Garrett added.

  Dan frowned. “I am not feeling the love...”

  “More like your ego is getting bruised. But you know she’s right. She can handle the depositions.”

  He grudgingly agreed. “That would leave me free to pursue other lines of inquiry.”

  “Like?”

  “There may be some people who would be more willing to open up to me in a private setting. I’m always heard that my father was popular with his fellow officers.”

  “Not quite all, apparently.”

  “So what happened? I’d like to find out.”

  “Do you know any of his fellow officers? That was a long time ago.”

  “No. But I know who could get me access to the records.”

  “Jazlyn.”

  He nodded. “She is DA now. And she does owe me a favor or six.”

  “I’ll start investigating online,” Garrett said. “See what I can turn up. If it leads to anything, I’ll let you know.”

  “I’ll do the same with my contacts around town,” Jimmy said. “I know lots of old people. Someone must know something. A cop on trial for murder had to attract attention. Even in the pre-internet days. I’ll get the records at the court clerk’s office.”

  “Jimmy.” Dan raised a cautionary finger. “If you can possibly avoid it—don’t tell Shawna anything.”

  “Gonna be tough to comb the records without her knowing.”

  “I know. But I’m increasingly convinced that she’s feeding info to Sweeney.”

  “He’s gonna find out anyway,” Garrett commented. :If you find anything useful. You can’t use it at trial without him hearing about it.”

  “I know. But I’d like to keep my edge as long as possible.”

  “I know when Shawna takes her breaks. I’ll go in then and work with an assistant. At the least, it might be longer before she hears about it.”

  “Thanks. Anything else we need to cover?” He glanced at his watch. “I’m late for my Tuesday evening appointment.”

  The other three eyed one another.

  Maria broke the silence. “You know, you’ve never mentioned—”

  “Just a thing I do.”

  “But you’ve never mentioned—”

  “Because it’s so boring. I just have to get out of the office occasionally. What’s the first deposition?”

  She frowned. “Ellison, of course. His testimony put your father behind bars. Then we do Sweeney. Cut off the head and the snake dies.”

  “That won’t happen. Sweeney’s too smart. You’ll have to fight for an answer to every question.”

  “Then I will.”

  “He has massive resources and a massive advantage.”

  “I have a few advantages too.”

  “Like what?”

  “He underestimates me,” Maria said. “Because I’m stunningly attractive.”

  “Probably true.”

  “So I’ll sashay into the conference in my tightest slacks, make a few dumb-bunny comments...and see what happens.”

  “At least you have a plan. Sounds like we’re all ready to get on this. If you have any questions—”

  “Dan, there’s one other thing we need to discuss.”

  Garrett. Why was it always Garrett? “And that is?”

  “We could talk in private, if you prefer.”

  That sounded ominous. “Anything you can say to me, you can say to everyone.”

  “Very well. I read the police report online. Apparently the slime ball they called The Captain made some remarks before he died. Including, apparently, implying that you have a sister.”

  Maria’s head whipped around.

  Dan tried to maintain an even composure. “I do not have a sister. Never have. I’m an only child.”

  Garrett didn’t flinch. “Then why would he say that?”

  “He was trying to get me. Trying suggest he had a bargaining chip. Something he could trade for immunity.”

  Garrett pursed his lips. “Somehow...that doesn’t ring true. I think there’s more to it. There has to be.”

  Dan tried to control his voice, but once again, Garrett was getting on his nerves. “Don’t you think I’d know if I had a sister?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know, Dan. I just don’t know.”

  Chapter 9

  Dan almost tiptoed as he entered the District Attorney’s office. Not that he’d never been here before. But most prosecutors saw defense attorneys as the enemy. The DAs were the thin blue line separating civilization from chaos—while the defense attorneys were the chaos. Some of that rep was deserved. The prosecution had law enforcement on their side, which gave them a huge advantage at trial. If defense attorneys didn’t attempt to undermine police testimony, they were likely to lose. So they used every trick they knew to make the police officers look foolish. Undesirable, but necessary.

  Dan preferred to be respectful to police officers—and then once he had them off guard, drop the hammer.

  Jake Kakazu sat in the outer office. “Hey, Dan, what brings you into the enemy camp?”

  “Just got a meeting. Nothing important.”

  Jake placed a hand on his shoulder, an uncommonly friendly gesture from a police detective. “Crazy days here lately, huh?”

  “Agreed.”

  “Hey—do you really have a sister?”

  “I do not.”

  Jake nodded. “Just as well. Don’t think we could handle two Pikes in the courthouse. We’d never convict anyone.”

  Jazlyn’s assistant waived Dan inside.

  Jazlyn was seated behind the biggest desk he had ever seen in his life, stacked with the tallest piles of paper he had ever seen in his life. The scene was less reminiscent of a law office and more reminiscent of the last scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark.

  On a window shelf behind the desk, he spotted snaps of Jazlyn and Esperanza. Some were posed but all made it perfectly evident how much the two adored one another. What surprised him was the photo in the rear, a solo of Jazlyn in jodphurs—on a horse.

  “You’re an equestrian!” he said, eyes wide. “An equestrianess. Whatever the term is.”

  “Just go with—I ride horses.”

  “How long has this been going on?”

  “All my life.”

  “How many horses do you have?”

  “Two. I’ve had Buttermilk for years, but I just bought a pony. You know, for Esperanza. I’m teaching her to ride.”

  “You’ve never once mentioned this.”

  “Oh, I have many dark secrets.”

  “Really? Spill.”

  “Not a chance.” She glanced at the photo. “I don’t get out to the stable as often as I’d like. You remember what Ronald Reagan said, about the outside of a horse being good for the inside of a person? I used to write that
off as homespun scripted balderdash. But actually—he was right. It’s my favorite spare-time activity.”

  “I taught you to kitesurf.”

  “Yeah...lots of splashing around. Not really my thing.”

  “How do you like being in charge of everything? No boss. No one controlling your hours. Lots of time to...ride horses.”

  “Almost everything you just said is wrong. I don’t like being in charge of everything. I have no control over my schedule, and I have little to no time to do anything fun. I can’t even try cases anymore. I have to assign everything out so I can deal with paperwork.”

  “That sounds nightmarish.”

  “It is. But you didn’t come to hear me whine. What’s up?”

  “You’ve heard about my lawsuit against Sweeney?”

  “Do I live in a cave?”

  “We’re going to depose Bradley Ellison tomorrow. He’s the guy who testified that my father was the shooter.”

  “Sounds like a good place to start.”

  “Know anything about him?”

  “Not really. He retired before I got out of law school.”

  “Any chance he was dirty?”

  “That’s not what the SPPD boys say. They still consult with him on cases. No, the one they say was dirty was...you know. Your dad.”

  “Those are lies. They just say that because he was convicted.”

  “I believe you. Who was your dad’s partner?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “You should find out. And talk to him. He might say things in a one-on-one convo that he wouldn’t say in a deposition with a court reporter and a bunch of guys in suits listening.”

  “Exactly what I was thinking.” He paced around the perimeter of the office, drinking in the diplomas, the awards, and photographs of Jazlyn with two different governors. “I need more information about what happened to my father.”

  “Aren’t all the files and transcripts public record now?”

  “The court records, yes. But they don’t tell much. Bradley Ellison claimed he saw my father shoot a fellow officer, my dad didn’t take the stand, and the jury put him away for life. What I want are the police records.”

  “Have you asked the police?”

  “Yeah. That got me nothing. I filed forms, they made excuses.”