Judge and Jury Page 3

  “I understand. We don’t have to rush...whatever this is going to be.” She paused a moment, and when he didn’t say anything, she added, “Because this is going to be something, right?”

  He started adding the dressings. “You did notice that I’m making my special Not-Pizza, right?”

  “Yes...”

  “It’s a Relationship Dish.”

  “It is? Like, that’s a thing? Relationship dishes?”

  “Of course. Only for people who are in a relationship. Yet to be defined.” He turned to her, reaching out slightly. “That okay with you?”

  “Well...sure.”

  Their heads moved closer...and of course at that moment Jimmy came bounding down the stairs. Red cardigan, last button undone. Bit too much hair oil. Loafers. Jimmy was an invaluable member of the team. He usually handled the legal writing, and he had connections with virtually every useful person in town. “What’s going on down here?”

  They both straightened. “Maria is helping me cook.”

  “Uh-huh.” He walked past them and took a whiff of dinner. “Oh my gosh. That smells heavenly. We’ve missed you, Dan. And not just your cooking.”

  “Thanks.”

  “But mostly your cooking. Got any more plans for the day?”

  “Just lunch with my posse. Thought I might get in a little kite-surfing. Then back to—”

  Garrett entered wearing a Rays t-shirt and carrying his laptop. He was a former prosecutor and easily the most conservative member of the team. “Do I smell lunch?”

  “You do. Everyone grab a plate.”

  Dan had almost forgotten how much he adored his team—his law firm, technically. The mysterious Mr. K, who only appeared to them via voice-only Skype, was the leader, but the four of them worked together on almost everything. Mr. K had remodeled a fabulous Snell Isle mansion into their office space—complete with a gourmet-grade kitchen. He would stay with this firm even if they met in a shack—but the mansion was better.

  Breaking with tradition, they each took a bar stool around the kitchen bar. Close quarters, perfect for chatting and catching up.

  “Judging from what I read online this morning,” Garrett said, “you’ve gotten yourself into a hell of a mess, Dan. Why am I not surprised?”

  “Because that’s the story of his life,” Jimmy sniffed.

  “I understood when you wanted to learn more about your past. How did that turn into a sting operation with international organ smugglers? Or a courtroom execution? I don’t think these associations that are beneficial for the firm.”

  “I’m not entirely sure how this happened myself. Did you have any idea how pervasive organ smuggling has become? It’s a billion-dollar business. Some authorities believe there are more black-market organ sales than legal ones.”

  “Hideous.”

  “And the cargo we uncovered was living human beings. Intended to be harvested for their organs.”

  “Like something out of a horror movie. But I’m not sure how it relates to your father’s case. Or how it’s beneficial for this firm.”

  “If you prevented those girls from being cut up for parts, that’s good enough for me,” Jimmy said. “Hank has told me about those Salvadorian butchers that claim to be surgeons, even though they have no real training whatsoever.” Hank was Jimmy’s husband, also African-American, an ER doc at a local hospital. “Sounds horrible.”

  “Organ smuggling has become a worldwide problem,” Dan continued. “These organ cartels exist all over the world—Russia, China, even some European countries. The largest near us was Los Caballeros Templarios.”

  Maria jumped in. “The Knights Templar Cartel.”

  “Exactly. A quasi-religious crime syndicate. How you combine Catholicism with kidnapping humans to harvest for organs is beyond me. But that cartel recently suffered some law enforcement problems and diversified into other illegal operations—like mining, and logging, and extortion. It’s believed that created an opening for the cartel that was already sex trafficking into St. Petersburg.”

  Jimmy winced. “Isn’t there anything we can do about this?”

  Dan shrugged. “The only real solution is to increase the number of legally available organs, but so far, they’re in short supply. What we should have is a global policy of presumed consent. That would increase the number of organs available by something like 25-30%. But so far, only the US, Brazil, and a few European countries have done it.”

  “Whatever. Far as I’m concerned, what Dan did makes him a superhero.” Jimmy beamed. “He’s our Aquaman. As I may have mentioned.”

  “Once or twice,” Maria said, muffling a grin.

  “I think you’re both missing the point,” Garrett said. “Dan is putting the firm at risk—and for what? His own private thirst for knowledge? A vendetta?”

  “That’s not fair,” Jimmy said.

  “I hear what you’re saying,” Dan said. “But we’ve damaged the cartel. Seriously. We’ve dinged it and nicked it before, but this time we’ve truly done some damage. If we can bring it down for good, once and for all, we’ll have done an immeasurable service to this community. To the world. Thousands of people will be safer. Maybe millions.”

  “This is a law firm, not the Justice League. This is not our job.”

  “My father used to talk about keeping the faith. With your family, your community, the people you work with and the people you love. I think he walked the walk—”

  “And paid a huge price for it.”

  Dan drew in his breath. “He kept the faith. I’m going to try to do the same.” He paused. “I’m going to try to be worthy of him.”

  Maria cut in. As Dan knew all too well, she was often the peacemaker between him and Garrett. “We understand completely, Dan. But we still miss you. When are you coming back to work?”

  “I’m really no closer than I was before to learning what happened to my father, how the most decorated member of the St. Pete police force ended up behind bars for a murder he didn’t commit.” He paused. “I just wanted to stop in and see you guys. I kinda missed...all of you.”

  He saw Jimmy’s eyes dart, first to him, then to Maria. “Uh-huh. All of us.”

  “Yeah. Even you.”

  Jimmy pressed his hands against on his cardigan. “Is this Relationship Not-Pizza?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “This is a Relationship Dish, isn’t it? That’s why we’ve never had it before.”

  “Relationship Dish?” Dan asked. “Is that a thing?”

  “Don’t play coy with me. Something is going on here. I can smell it.”

  He forced himself not to look at Maria. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  A pinging sound emerged from Garrett’s laptop. “It’s Mr. K,” Garrett explained. “Apparently he wants to talk.”

  “I didn’t know we were having a meeting.”

  “Neither did I.” Garrett pushed a few buttons and turned up the sound. “Hello, Mr. K. Can you hear me?”

  A familiar voice emerged from the speakers. “Loud and clear. Hello, team. Am I interrupting?”

  “Nah. We’re just eating. Go ahead.”

  “Thanks. I just wanted to chat with you all while Dan was in the office. Glad to have you back, Dan.”

  “Thanks.” How did K know he was here? How did he know they were all together? K always seemed to know everything about everybody’s everything. A little spooky, really.

  “What’s for lunch?” K asked. “I’ll bet Dan made something wonderful.”

  “We’re having Flatbread Not-Pizza.”

  “Really?’ K sounded perplexed. “Isn’t that a Relationship Dish?”

  “Ok, now I’m smelling a rat.” He glanced at Maria, who had her phone in her hand. “Have you been texting people?”

  “Perish the thought.”

  “It would explain a great deal.”

  “Dan,” K said, “I heard about what happened at the dock a few nights ago. And that horror show in the courtroom. How�
��s everyone taking it?”

  “The courthouse is closed and likely to stay that way for at least a week. They’re scrubbing it down and hiring extra security. Anyone wants to file anything, they have to do it electronically.”

  “Any idea why the deputy did that?”

  “It appeared he did not want The Captain to talk.”

  “But why?”

  “I’m baffled. I’ve known Dick Ennis for years. Didn’t know him personally, but he seemed like a good guy. We assume someone got to him, one way or another.”

  “Money won’t help him when he’s dead.”

  “No, but it might help his family. His wife seems to have disappeared.”

  “Kidnapped? Blackmail?”

  “That’s what everyone is assuming. But unless they find her, we’ll never know for sure.”

  “Then we’ll never know. What about the girls locked in the hold of that cargo ship?”

  “They all seem to have survived the ordeal, thank goodness. Most were seriously malnourished. And dehydrated. But they’re coming around. ICE is involved, and the FBI. They’re trying to return the abductees to the families. If they have families.”

  “Most won’t. Smugglers target vulnerable girls without strong family connections. People who won’t be missed.”

  “I know.”

  “You might...think about handling some immigration cases again, Dan. See if you can help people find a place in the world.”

  “Happy to do it, K, but—just to be clear, I’m not coming back to work yet.”

  “Sorry to hear that. We need you. We’ve been shorthanded for too long. Still investigating your father’s case?”

  “Yeah. Everywhere I go I run into closed doors and brick walls. No one will talk.”

  “To a persuasive guy like you?”

  “I think Sweeney has gotten to them. Threatened them. Bribed them. To be honest...this is getting more than a little frustrating. I can’t give up.”

  “Agreed.”

  “But it seems futile to investigate. Every lead is a dead end.”

  The kitchen fell silent for a moment. He heard the faint crackle of static on the Skype line.

  Finally K spoke. “I know one way to get someone to talk. Even Conrad Sweeney.”

  “And that is?”

  “A court order.”

  “Like a subpoena?” Maria asked. “But you can’t get a subpoena unless—” Her voice dropped off. “Oh.”

  “Exactly.”

  Dan tilted his head. “K, are you suggesting...?”

  “I read that Mr. Sweeney is opening yet another one of those women’s shelters this afternoon. Supposed to give a little talk and hold a press conference afterward. He’ll be taking questions.”

  A small smile played on Dan’s lips. “So...anything could happen.”

  “But Dan—be careful. You know you’re playing with fire.”

  “I know Sweeney’s dangerous, if that’s what you mean.”

  “You’re right, but it’s not just him. You interfered with a South American cartel. If they can get to a courtroom deputy, Dan, they can get to anyone. No one is safe. Not you, or anyone on this team. No one.”

  Chapter 4

  Dan had to park the company car—the Jag F-Pace SVR—three blocks away, but eventually he found an empty space. Downtown St. Pete was usually popular—but not this popular. His destination was near the Dunedin area filled with restaurants and boutiques and quirky places to pass an afternoon. But he would never have imagined you could attract this kind of attention with a ribbon-cutting ceremony.

  “Isn’t this the fourth shelter Sweeney’s opened in a couple of years?” Dan asked. “Why is it such a draw?”

  “Slow news day,” Maria responded. “Sweeney knows how to generate publicity. I think he likes to be on camera. The center of attention.”

  “Like all egomaniacs. He should run for president.”

  She shook her head. “Too much scrutiny. Not enough profit.”

  He slid out of the car and walked to the front lawn of the new women’s shelter where the ceremony would be held. The shelter had been built with a combination of taxpayer funds and private contributions, and Sweeney was taking credit for soliciting most of the contributions. The city had owned this prime stretch of unoccupied land for many years, so Sweeney scooped it up for his initiative.

  As they approached the two-story brick structure, the front lawn was already covered with reporters, camera, and dignitaries, but also many people in casual dress, people who appeared to be there just because they wanted to be there.

  “On the bright side,” Maria said, “we do need these shelters. Abused women need a safe place to escape. A place to take their children.”

  “Abused men and women,” he corrected.

  “Right, right. But abused men are a small minority of the cases and you know it.”

  “Don’t we have a duty to protect minorities?”

  “Of course, but—”

  “Not when they’re white males?”

  “Ok, stop mansplaining domestic abuse to me.”

  “I’m not. I think every woman should feel safe, free to speak out, and every charge should be taken seriously. But we can’t forget that not all abusers are male, and not all men are sexual predators.”

  “Point taken. Slight though it may be.” They filtered through the crowd and found a comfortable spot near the front. “Are we allowed to stand next to one another?”

  He pulled a face. “We are in the same law firm.”

  “But I know you want to keep our relationship on the downlow.”

  “Just for now. Until I get this business with my father worked out. Till I can be fully present for you.”

  “You sound like a character in a CW show.”

  “I want to be the best me for you I can possibly be.”

  “If you say, ‘It’s not you, it’s me,’ I’m gonna slap you.”

  He smiled. “We can stand next to one another.”

  “But no handholding?”

  “That would seem a bit unprofessional.”

  “Tickling? Smooching? Jumping into your arms and wrapping my legs around you?”

  He tilted his head to the side. “I wouldn’t stop you.”

  He noticed some activity behind the raised dais. Looked like the show was about to start. He steeled himself—then noticed a familiar female face making a beeline toward him.

  Prudence Hancock. Sweeney’s assistant. The one he’d spotted in the courtroom the day The Captain was killed. “Leave, Pike. Now.”

  She was dressed more conservatively than usual, in a black pantsuit that looked stifling in the Florida heat. “I thought this was open to the public.”

  “Not to known troublemakers. This is a charitable event.”

  “I’m a big fan of charity.”

  She shifted her attention to Maria. “I know he’s a stubborn, pompous ass. But can’t you talk some sense into him?”

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “Can you convince Sweeney to confess that he’s involved in South American smuggling cartels?”

  Prudence snorted, a derisive, almost pitying expression. “You have no idea what you’re messing around with. The response you’re virtually demanding.”

  “All I want are some straight answers.”

  “All you’re going to get is a death sentence.” Prudence stopped, obviously making sure her words had their intended impact. “You’ve escaped—just barely—too many times, Pike. Your enemies are done trying to scare you. They just want you out of the way.”

  “I saw you in the courthouse, Prudence. How’d you get the deputy to turn?”

  “That deputy was having serious emotional problems. His wife left him.”

  “Or was abducted.”

  “His son was arrested on drug charges. Pushing. He was looking at ten years, minimum.”

  “But the charges were dropped after the complaining witness disappeared.”

  “I don’t know anything about that.
”

  He stepped closer. “I don’t believe you.”

  Prudence drew in her breath. “Despite what you think, Pike, I don’t dislike you. In fact, I think you’re kinda hot. I don’t want to see you wasted before I have a chance to see if you’re as tasty as you look.”

  Maria pointed her finger into her mouth and made a gagging sound.

  “But if you continue on this path,” Prudence said, “not even I will be able to save you.”

  “The show is starting,” Dan said, not breaking eye contact. “Shouldn’t you be up there massaging Sweeney’s feet or changing his diaper or whatever it is you do?”

  Prudence gave Maria one last look. “I want you to remember this. I want you to remember that I tried to help him. But he refused to listen.”

  She pivoted on one heel and marched away.

  “Brrrr,” Dan said. “Is it just me, or is every visit with her like the sudden onset of a killer frost?”

  “Sweeney needs someone to be nasty. So he doesn’t have to.”

  “In public.”

  “But you know, Dan...she’s not wrong. You’ve been attacked twice. Framed for murder. What’s next?”

  He didn’t answer. He didn’t have answer. And thinking about it sent chills down his spine.

  The first speaker on the program was not Sweeney but the current mayor of the city, former Deputy Mayor Denton, who took over after Camila Pérez—his former flame—tendered her resignation—and pled guilty to conspiracy to murder.

  “Thank you all for joining us today. It warms my heart to see so many of you here. St Pete has always had an amazing level of community involvement. We’ve been through some traumatic events of late. Gang warfare. COVID-19. Political turmoil. But we are good people, strong people, and we will persevere.”

  A small cry rose from the rear. Planted cheering section? Probably.

  “And today we celebrate another great step forward for the community, for securing safety and peace of mind for all our citizens, a sanctuary, another Sweeney House for those needing a short-term safe venue. Ladies and gentlemen, let me please introduce the man who has made this possible, whose endless largesse has done so much for us—Conrad Sweeney.”

  Sweeney moved with considerable grace despite his enormous girth. He was three hundred if he was a pound, though he masked some of that with his immaculately tailored white suit. He was completely bald, flashed French cuffs, and wore Italian shoes that probably cost a thousand bucks. Which Dan recognized because he had a similar pair. That he had never worn.