Southern Harm

by Travis Casey

  Louie's haughty look returned.

  The judge offered a nod of approval. "In that case, Mr. Novak-Chambers, if you will follow the bailiff and Mr. Gomez, you can post his bail and escort your companion home. And, Bailiff, make sure the release form stipulates that Mr. Gomez is to remain under this man's supervision twenty-four hours a day until the trial. Dismissed."

  The gavel fell—and so did Oscar's stomach.

  Rob Brown stepped away from the table to talk with the clerk. Oscar raced over to Stacey on the way to the front of the courtroom. He gave her a friendly smile. "Fancy seeing you here."

  "Yeah, imagine that. A consultant to the district attorney in a court of law. How strange, huh?" She folded her arms. "But what's even stranger is a racing tycoon and a gangster in the same courtroom, doing deals with one another that the district attorney's office doesn't even know about. Especially after the tycoon told the consultant that he has no connection to the gangster, except to help the poor, underprivileged children of Kentucky." She jerked her head in Johnny's direction. "And I see the tycoon brought his thumbless employee with him, the very employee who is supposed to be in fear for his life from the gangster his boss is springing. I'm glad I was here to see it. Otherwise I wouldn't have believed it."

  He reached out and touched her arm. "Stacey, please, let me explain."

  She shook off his touch and stuffed the papers into her attaché case. "I hope you two will be very happy together, because you're going to be spending a lot of time with him—and none with me—ever. Goodbye." She slammed her briefcase shut and stormed out.

  His heart sank further as he watched the emerald-eyed ass-wiggler sashay out of the courtroom. It was going to be tricky trying to win her back, but not as tricky as trying to come up with a hundred grand for Louie's bail. Or maybe each was as impossible as the other.

  The bailiff escorted them into a stairwell. The stuffy air mingled with a bleachy odor, encouraging them to walk faster as they navigated their way down a flight of stairs to the processing area. A heavy-set woman in her fifties sat behind a wire cage barrier. Louie and Oscar stood in front of her, patiently waiting while she filled in some forms. After a few moments, her authoritative eyes zeroed in on them. "Gomez?"

  "Yes," Louie replied.

  "Ya'all got a cashier's check fer me?" She spoke with a heavy drawl.

  Oscar reached in his jacket pocket and produced a checkbook. "No, ma'am, but I have a check. Who do I make it out to?"

  The woman howled. Her humongous boobs shook as her body jelly-rolled from laughter-induced convulsions. A coughing fit forced her to recompose. "Do I look like I just fell off the turnip truck, hun? You got some mighty-fine threads on, Mister, but that don't mean you got a hundred grand in the bank."

  Oscar had hoped to write the check then find a way to get the funds in before it cleared.

  The woman flicked one, then two fingers as she spoke. "I'll take a cashier's check or a wire transfer from your bank. If you want to give me that there check, fine, but Gomez stays here in his cozy cell until the money comes through, and that's usually three to five days."

  Louie cocked his head. "You got three to five hours, Oscar, not days." Then he whispered out of the side of his mouth. "And that's how long Johnny No-Thumbs has left to breathe if you screw this up."

  The clerk rapped her pen on the desk. "What's it gonna be, bub? Mr. G. needs to git back to his concrete room if you ain't got the cash in hand."

  Oscar patted Louie on the shoulder. "Sit tight. I'll be back."

  "I'm not going anywhere," he hissed, "just in case you haven't been paying attention."

  Oscar left under the echo of steel doors slamming. It felt as if a plastic bag had been hog-tied around his head, suffocating him as he walked toward the exit. It wasn't just a matter of getting the money; Johnny No-Thumbs wanted to play the Terminator, while at the same time, Louie was measuring him up for a pine box. And Stacey—well, she just hated him.

  Chapter 23

  The day Stacey met Oscar—that lying, cheating, self-absorbed asshole—was turning out to be a day she would regret for the rest of her life. Whatever happened to honesty, loyalty, and integrity? He didn't have any of that. He wouldn't know what the truth looked like if it smacked him across his gorgeous face.

  She pressed the key fob to open her Nissan Juke, jumped in, and sped off to Frankfort. Damn that Oscar. He wouldn't have any trouble raising the money, but a kick up the wallet might be just what he needed. It really burned her size-four butt when he stood up to post bail.

  Well, if he was so cozy with Louie Freaking Gomez, she was only too happy to have Gomez released into his custody. Now they could get arrested together, and she could put them both away in one fell swoop. She smacked the top of the steering wheel. "You're messing with the wrong girl, Oscar Novak-Chambers," she yelled.

  When she pulled up to the mansion, a Louisville police car was parked outside. Maybe Louie and Oscar had already done a runner, and the cops had come around to tell her the gory details. Maybe Oscar turned into a mass murderer—gunning his way out of the courthouse, holding hands with his buddy Louie Freaking Gomez, then swanking off to some rainbow park together to make googly eyes at each other and feed the ducks breadcrumbs and each other lies. That seemed to be his forte. Well, he could tell all the lies he wanted in hell, and she wouldn't care. She drew a deep breath, reigning in her imagination. Okay, it was a bit of a jump to go from liar to mass murderer, but a sin was a sin, and Oscar was going to hell no matter what.

  When she got through the front door, Conrad informed her that a police officer was waiting in her office. She knew it. They jumped bail. That judge should never have granted Gomez a release. It was her idea, but the judge should have listened to Rob Brown and thrown away the key. Now she'd have to track Louie down like a dog—and Oscar like dog shit.

  Clearing her throat to gain attention, she proceeded toward her desk. As she drew alongside the officer, he looked up.

  She gasped. "Emmitt? What are you doing here?"

  "Hey, Stace. How'd ya like the gift I gave ya?"

  "What gift?"

  "Gomez. I busted Louie Gomez for ya."

  "You busted Gomez? I don't understand."

  "Yep." He smiled. "I knew you were after him, and I could hear the disappointment in your voice when you found out that Oscar guy was at his office. So I fixed it for ya."

  "You fixed it? How did you fix it, Emmitt?"

  He ran a hand through his slicked-back hair. "Well, let's just say I had a feeling we wouldn't come up empty if we searched his place. So I got a warrant, and guess what? We didn't come up empty."

  His grin was as wide as the Ohio River, which she wanted to push him into. She thrust her hands on her hips. "Emmitt, tell me you did not plant evidence."

  "Why, Miss Davenport. I am a law enforcement officer for the city of Louisville and the state of Kentucky. What you're suggesting would be unethical. But you do owe me a date, so maybe we can discuss how lines of ethics can sometimes be skewed over dinner." His smile widened.

  "Emmitt, I don't work like that."

  "That is how these things do work, Stace. I only took the blindfold off that justice lady for the good of the people—and for you."

  "Me?" she squealed.

  Emmitt squared his shoulders. "I let that Oscar guy out when you asked me. And now I put Louie Gomez on the inside for you. You owe me more than just a date." His smile disappeared.

  "Please don't call me Stace. And you can lock Oscar back up for all I care."

  "Are you and him finished?"

  "We never got started," she snapped.

  Emmitt grinned. "That's good to know."

  She stepped forward and poked his chest. "If you've been planting evidence, I'm going to have to throw this case."

  He held his ground, and even stepped closer. "It's my word against Gomez where the drugs came from—and the words of the other three officers on the raid, of course. We got four officers against one scumba
g. It's always good to have witnesses." Emmitt's smile broadened. "So prosecute away, Stace. Between you and me, we'll put Gomez away for—"

  "A maximum of three years, but I doubt it."

  Emmitt's jaw dropped. "What do you mean, you doubt it? That was grade-A cocaine we found."

  "Grade-A, huh?" Stacey folded her arms. "The quality doesn't matter. It's the quantity, and that wasn't enough. We tried to bullshit the judge, but Gomez will probably get community service when it goes to trial."

  Emmitt's brows furrowed. "You don't think he'll get much prison time?"

  "Oh, I'm going to try, but a first-time offender with a few grams of coke is highly unlikely to go down for long, if at all. The timing of your raid sucked, Emmitt. I was closing in on Gomez for big things—twenty-to-life things—then you go and pull a stunt like this. You've just blown the entire case I was working on. That was a stupid thing to do. Thanks a lot, Emmitt."

  "Don't call me stupid, Stace."

  "I'm not calling you stupid, Emmitt. I applaud your ideology, but as far as the legalities go, you're way off the mark—and about a kilo light."

  Emmitt looked her in the eye. "You lock Gomez up now, and I'll get you the rest of the evidence you need to make him a lifelong resident of the Kentucky penal system."

  Her father's voice bellowed. "Stacey." After a rap on the door, he burst in. "Darling, I just had your boyfriend on the phone—" The sight of Emmitt made him stop. "Officer, is everything okay?"

  "Howdy, Governor. I'm Officer Dewsbury. I was just briefing Miss Davenport on a case."

  "Daddy, I don't have a boyfriend."

  Her father waved his hand around. "Of course you do. It's just a matter of time." He focused on Emmitt. "Could you excuse us, Officer? I need to talk to my daughter in private."

  "Certainly, sir." He addressed Stacey. "Remember what I said, Miss Davenport. And if I happen to see a certain someone, I'll lock him up for you."

  That's all she needed—some dimwit running around the state, locking up anybody who took a shine to her.

  Emmitt left and closed the door behind him.

  The governor took his daughter's hands in his. "Darling, I need you to do me a favor. Get Rob Brown to drop the charges and proceedings against Louie Gomez."

  "What?" With Emmitt making illegal arrests, she may have to dismiss the case anyway. But then again, he never actually admitted he planted evidence. It was only implied if she chose to read it that way. Perhaps she could put the blindfold back on "that justice lady." Thanks to that knucklehead, she had her own ethical dilemma to sort out, but now she was more interested in why her dad, and Oscar, were so interested in seeing Louie walk away.

  "Why's that?" she asked.

  "I just spoke to Oscar. He told me about Louie Gomez, and he has a point. If Gomez has a criminal conviction for drugs, he may not be allowed to be involved in programs involving children. As you know, Oscar's planning a big program to help kids, and this guy is his chief financial backer. He won't have the funds to see it through if Gomez goes down."

  "Why not? Just the other week, you were telling me how I should ditch Jett Johnson because he was on a measly eight point seven million a year, but Oscar Novak-Chambers made a gazillion dollars a minute. So why does he need some gangster's financial backing?"

  "His money's tied up in investments. You know how those rich people are. They never have liquid assets."

  "Well, I don't buy that for starters. And what's in it for you?"

  "It's great publicity. You were the one to point that out. With my support of this program, I'll be the champion of Kentucky's underprivileged kids."

  "Frog feces, Daddy. There's more to it than that."

  He hesitated a moment. "I need Oscar, and Oscar needs Gomez. The Novak-Chambers family could donate hundreds of thousands of dollars to my campaign over the next few years if I scratch the odd itch, and Oscar thinks Gomez is important to his development plans. I need to make sure we're all pulling in the same direction."

  "Dad, this is the reason I'm in the DA's office. I've made my career trying to stop this kind of thing from happening." She held him by the shoulders. "You're a good man. You don't need gimmicks or questionable campaign contributions to keep you in office. Truth and honesty always win out in the end. Besides, Oscar has plenty of money. Let him post bail, and if Louie does a midnight flit and Oscar loses his cash, good. It'll teach him to pick his friends more carefully."

  "But, Stacey—"

  She raised her palm. "No, Dad. If you're pulling in the same direction as Oscar, that direction is toward hell. We're not dropping the charges."

  Chapter 24

  When Governor Davenport said "No problem" in response to Oscar's plea to clear Louie to keep the kids' project alive, Oscar believed him. Then Davenport called back fifteen minutes later to say "No dice." He didn't say why he couldn't help, just that it was out of his hands. What's the point of having powerful friends if they don't have any power?

  Oscar looked at the clock, the second hand ticking off precious seconds. He picked up the phone, staring at the number eight on the keypad: Stacey's speed-dial number. Could he convince her to drop the charges? She was pretty mad in the courtroom. Had he given her enough time to cool down? He hit number two instead.

  "Hello?"

  "Hi, Granddad, it's me, Oscar."

  "Hiya, boy. How ya doing?"

  "Yeah, I'm okay, but I'm in a bit of a pickle. I—"

  "How much do you need?"

  "What makes you think it's about money?"

  "Okay, I'll have a hamburger with my pickle."

  "Okay, you made your point. I need a hundred grand," he blurted out.

  "What? A hundred thousand dollars? Whose ransom you trying to pay, boy?"

  Oscar heard his shock and reprimanded himself for lacking tact. "I think you'd like it better if you didn't know why."

  "Prostitutes and cocaine were never that expensive in my day."

  "No, Granddad, it's not for sinful pleasures." He paused. On second thought, he knew Granddad Roscoe wouldn't stump up that much money without some kind of explanation. "It's Johnny. He's in trouble, and I need to help him." There, that was pretty close to the truth.

  "He ain't hoein' and snowin', is he?"

  "No, it's nothing like that. He had an accident and lost a finger. He needs an operation, and all my money's tied up in the polo ground. It's a loan, Granddad, you'll get it back. I promise." He hated lying to him, but the truth was less likely to get a result.

  A long, uncomfortable pause left him wishing he had chosen a different story.

  Roscoe broke the silence. "Okay, I always liked Johnny, and I'll trust your judgement. Who do I make the check out to, you or him?"

  Shit. He forgot about that. "I don't suppose you have it in cash?"

  Laughter erupted on the other end. "I know some doctors ain't too keen on certain health care programs, but c'mon. A cash-only backstreet doctor? What's he doin', havin' some Korean guy named Sew You Nub stitch it back on for 'im?"

  Panic seeped into him. He should have known better than to throw his granddad a line like that. The old man was far too switched on to fall for it. It was too late to backtrack. "Okay, forget it. I told you, you wouldn't want to know. I never should have asked."

  "Hold on a minute there, sunshine. You know I'd do anything to help you. I'd just like to know where a hundred grand is going. That ain't too much to ask, is it?"

  "No, course not, but I can't say. It does involve Johnny, but it's not your problem. I'll ask Juliet."

  "Ha. You're gonna try to get money outta that girl? Tell Johnny to forget about the operation and just put his finger on eBay. You'd get a damn sight more that way than trying to get your sister to open up her purse."

  He had a point. For a hundred grand, she might do a hit on Louie, but she wouldn't work it the other way around.

  Roscoe exhaled hard. "For you to even suggest asking Juliet, you must be desperate. Okay, I'm gonna put the money into your bank a
ccount. What you do with it is up to you. I'm going to trust you, Oscar. Don't do anything stupid and don't let me down. No more questions, just get that money back to me within the financial year. Okay?"

  "Deal. You're the best, Granddad. I won't let you down."

  ***

  "Not only did I get a new roomie, but it looks like I got a chauffeur with the deal to boot." Louie took deep, asthmatic breaths as he climbed in the truck. He held up a cigar big enough to burn down the Redwood Forest. "Mind if I smoke?"

  "Yes, I do." Oscar got him out of jail so he could go back to stinking up the streets of Louisville, not his truck.

  On their way to the condo, Oscar ignored Louie and concentrated on the road, secretly seething.

  "Since you're staying with me, we need to set some ground rules." Oscar kept his eyes straight ahead. "No smoking in the truck, and no smoking in my house."

  Louie lunged, his open palm smacking Oscar's face and pressing his head against the driver-side window. Oscar swerved as he tried to drive down the street with his head flattened against the window.

  "Are you crazy?" Oscar shouted.

  "And are you going to hold my hand when I cross the street?" Louie growled.

  Oscar slammed on the brakes, screeching the truck to a halt and jarring Louie's grip from his head. He turned and thrust his finger in Gomez's face. "You better back off!"

  Louie grabbed his finger, bending it backward. "And you better get that finger out of my face before I break it off."

  The pain of having his finger on the verge of being snapped stopped Oscar's aggression.

  Louie's rage flowed through his squinted eyes. "Let's get something straight, Oscar. I'm staying with you, but you are not my father, so don't ever try to tell me what to do. You bailed me, and you're my alibi for anything I do in the next month until my trial. Don't get any ideas that you're my guardian or my keeper." He let go of Oscar's hand.