The Mayor of Lexington Avenue (28 page)

“No. But I wasn’t close to the situation, Dick was. You learn in this business to trust your intuition. I trust Dick’s intuition.”

“Do you have any idea who would have called her?”

It was clear that Joaquin had already thought this through because he answered immediately. “Either Raymond Castro or José Guerrero—those were the two guys with Geronimo the night of the murder. It’s been ten years; they might have come back to town, heard about Rudy’s situation and decided to do something. That’s the only possibility I can come up with.”

Jack thanked Joaquin for his time and was about to leave when Joaquin remembered one more, small piece of information.

“Just before she dropped out of the case, Tracey sent a letter to the state attorney about this Geronimo fellow and attached my report. She sent me a copy of the letter, I guess because it was my report. I’ve got an extra copy if you’d like it.”

Jack didn’t know how much good it would do but he took the copy and thanked Joaquin again before heading back to Bass Creek.

That night, on their evening run, he told Pat all about his trip. They took a special route, one Pat had discovered just the day before when Jack was out of town. It was a secluded path through the woods.

“Covers about ten miles but we can get off anywhere we want.”

Jack loved the new run. They were hidden among tall pines and ancient oaks. The arms and elbows of the oak trees were brimming with Spanish moss, which created an eerie atmosphere that made them feel even more secluded and alone.

Jack started in on his story right away, and by mile three he was summarizing what he’d learned. “So Tracey James is dead, and her chief investigator thinks she was murdered by Wesley Brume, the investigating detective in Rudy’s case, a theory that I don’t buy at all. Yet, Tracey
was
getting back into the case. And she found out something—something that she believed would free Rudy and possibly incriminate Brume. Radek thinks that’s why Brume killed her. Radek doesn’t know who Tracey talked to but he thinks the information is somewhere in her file, which he is guarding with his life. Joaquin’s pretty sure it was one of the two guys who saw Rudy go into Lucy’s trailer, but he’s got no proof.

“I’m certain now after talking with Radek and Joaquin that this Geronimo guy killed Lucy Ochoa. Unfortunately, the guy Joaquin talked to—this Pablo person—is dead. I checked on him as soon as I got back into town today.”

“What does it all mean in terms of stopping Rudy’s execution?” Pat was getting lost in this barrage of facts. She understood the part about Rudy being innocent. She just didn’t understand how they were going to prove it.

“So far it means nothing. Everything I found out is inadmissible. I have absolutely no basis to file an appeal right now. I need to find some evidence to put this Geronimo—or anyone other than Rudy, really—in Lucy’s trailer that night, and I need it fast. I agree with Dick Radek about one thing—the evidence is in the files. I haven’t read Tracey’s file yet, but there’s got to be something in the files I’ve looked at already that I’m missing.”

“Why don’t you read the files again?”

“I don’t have time. I’ll read Tracey’s file tomorrow. The next day we’re going to see Rudy. Then I’ve got to start writing a brief even though I have nothing to write about.”

“You’ll find something, I’m certain of it. Listen, about me going with you to see Rudy—I think you should take Nancy instead.”

“You don’t want to go?” Jack looked disappointed.

“Of course I do, but Nancy is really tuned into this case. I think she can help you more because she knows the details so much better. She’s poring over those files.”

“Both of you could come.” They had already passed the five-mile cutoff, running comfortably, unaware of the distance they had traveled.

“No,” Pat said firmly. “I’d just be a distraction. You need to lay out for Nancy as you have for me all the information that you’ve got—and all the dots that need connecting.”

“Nancy’s just interested in being a secretary.”

“Not anymore, Jack. You changed that—you made her believe she has what it takes to be a lawyer. She’s done all the legwork to make that happen—checked out the schools and everything. And she’s on this case. Nancy will find that needle in the haystack you’re looking for. Take her along.”

Jack didn’t want to give up so easily and it had nothing to do with Nancy.

“Well, she can stay at the office and go over the files while you and I visit Rudy.”

“We can go another time—I’m not going anywhere. I think she needs to meet Rudy.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know. Woman’s intuition, I guess. Once she meets Rudy she’ll find what you need.” Jack knew the discussion was over. He chuckled to himself.

“What?” she asked.

“I was just thinking about Nancy. You know, I didn’t speak to her at all for the first year she worked for me.”

“She told me that. She said you were an uptight lawyer type until she found you crying in your office the day you heard Mike had died.” Jack thought about that for a moment.

“She’s right. The day I found out Mikey died changed a lot of things for me. I hadn’t cried in about ten years. Since then I’ve been like a busted dam. I broke down after I saw Rudy for the first time. I cried on the way home after you arrived—I was so happy to see you here. Hell, last night I was watching a movie in my bedroom and I started crying. I’m becoming a blubbering idiot.” They both laughed.

“You’re just living again, Jack. Warm blood is flowing through those veins.”

“Maybe so.” He suddenly took hold of her arm and they both stopped running. He looked at her, his hands now resting on her hips. “I was serious about crying on the way home the first day you arrived. Having you here has just meant so much to me. I mean, now I feel comfortable—confident that I can get this thing done.”

Pat rested her sweaty arms loosely around his neck. “You weren’t exactly a shrinking violet before I arrived on the scene.”

“Maybe not, but this is different—this is a labor of love. And I needed you to be part of it.” Pat didn’t say anything. She just hugged him. And he hugged her. There among the tall pines, the wide oaks, and the Spanish moss, they silently rested on each other.

Later, after finishing his swim, donning his shorts, tee shirt and flip-flops and making a quick run to the grocery store for some steaks, Jack passed Pat’s open bedroom door on his way to his own room. He turned to look inside but didn’t see her.

“Jack, could you come here for a second?” Her voice came from the private bathroom adjacent to her room. That door was also open, but he couldn’t see inside from where he was standing.

“Sure, what is it?” he answered, walking into the bathroom. Pat was standing by the already running shower in her birthday suit. Jack immediately had all his questions about her body answered. Her stomach was flat, her breasts firm—she looked fabulous. He didn’t know what to say. Pat did the talking.

“I’m awful sweaty. When I step in this shower, could you just wash my back? I can’t get to it myself.”

“Sure,” he replied, taking a step forward.

She looked at him. “Jack!” she exclaimed.

“What?”
Oh, no—did I do something wrong at this crucial moment?

“If you’re going to wash my back in the shower, you need to take your clothes off!”

“Oh. Yeah right. Give me just a second.”

For some strange reason, he retreated to the bedroom as he started pulling off his shirt, as if modesty prevented him from removing his clothes in front of her. He still had his shorts on when he realized how ridiculous he was being and started to move back towards the bathroom. Now he was in a hurry—experience told him that time was of the essence in these matters. He was taking a couple of jogging steps trying to hop out of his shorts, which were now down around his ankles, when he fell face forward on the bedroom floor with a loud thud. Pat came running into the room to see what had happened. When she saw Jack on the floor, his shorts still around his ankles, she burst out laughing.

Jack felt so ridiculous, he started laughing himself. There they were—Pat, buck-naked, standing at the bathroom door, and Jack lying on the floor in a kind of fetal position, shaking with laughter as he tried to slip his shorts all the way off.

“This is a very unusual style of foreplay, Jack. But it certainly is amusing.”

Jack was laughing so hard now he couldn’t speak. He almost lost the ability to breathe as well when Pat stretched her right arm out and leaned against the bathroom door. The bedroom was dark but the light was on in the bathroom, silhouetting her figure in the doorway like the sculpture of an ancient Greek goddess. Jack’s mouth went dry.

He washed her back and her front. He kissed every inch of her body and when he was done, she took him to bed. They made slow, sweet, passionate love. Later, Jack just lay there in her arms. He’d never felt like this before—in the arms of someone who knew him better than he knew himself, who had told him in no uncertain terms
by her actions
that she loved him. These were arms he knew would never let him go.

Thirty

Jack picked Nancy up at her home in his pickup truck early on Thursday morning for their trip to Raiford. It was a long drive and they were scheduled to be there that afternoon. She looked very lawyerly dressed in a navy blue pantsuit.

“Where’s the Cadillac?” she asked. “I thought we were traveling in style.”

“The Cadillac stayed in Miami,” Jack said. “Along with the style.”

He’d had to do some maneuvering to get Nancy a pass to see Rudy. When he’d called the prison the afternoon before, his request had been forwarded directly to the warden himself.

“We’re already doing you a favor, Mr. Tobin, by giving you a private room. We can’t make it a party,” the warden told him.

Jack had a real distaste for government bureaucrats who reveled in throwing their weight around, but he also knew how to press the right buttons to deflate them.

“I was talking to Bob Richards the other day about my appointment to the state attorney’s position in Cobb County—that’s coming up in a couple of months—and we discussed mutual cooperation among agencies. That’s becoming a problem and Bob wants me to head up a task force to identify the issues. . . .” It was typical government double-speak but something the warden caught on to right away.

“You say there’s only two of you?”

“That’s right.”

“I think we can accommodate your needs just fine.”

“Thank you, warden.”

“My pleasure.”

Nancy was overwhelmed that Jack had invited her on the trip, but she didn’t want him to know. She wanted to impress upon him that she was qualified to be his assistant. She had stayed up half the night reading Tracey James’s files. She now knew parts of the case as well as or better than Jack.

“I have a list of questions to ask Rudy,” she told him when they were on the highway heading north to the prison.

“I’ll look at them when we get there,” Jack told her. “But I’m really not concerned about the facts of the case when I visit Rudy. I’ve got a few things I need to ask him—such as, what did he and Tracey James discuss when she came to visit him? Other than that, it’s just a visit.”

“Why am I here, then?”

“You’re working on Rudy’s case so you need to meet him. When you’re representing people, Nancy, there has to be an emotional connection. This is your opportunity. Give your notes to me. Let me worry about the substance. You just concentrate on getting to know Rudy.”

Four hours later, they arrived at Raiford Prison. As promised, the warden had made all the necessary arrangements so that their journey from building to building, and guard to guard, was even easier than Jack’s last visit. Still, Jack could tell from the expression on Nancy’s face that she was freaked out when the first set of steel bars clanged open and then shut behind her. She was now in prison. The sounds, the smells were not something she had anticipated. Jack put his arm around her shoulder as they walked along, just to assure her that she was safe—or, at least, as safe as he was.

They were escorted to the same room where Jack had met Rudy the last time. They sat in two of the bolted chairs and waited for him to arrive.

They heard him long before he walked through the door—steel clanging, chains rattling, his shuffling feet contrasting with the heavy steps of the guards. Two guards entered the room first, followed by Rudy, then two more guards.
They must increase security as the execution gets closer
, Jack surmised. He stole a glance at Nancy, who was rigid in her chair. He patted her on the arm.

She just looked straight ahead like a seasick angler while Rudy was maneuvered into one of the chairs across from them. Jack knew she would have instantly felt better if she’d seen the smile lighting up Rudy’s face.

“Hey, Jack, how are you?” he said with the ease of a man who didn’t have a care in the world. “And who is this nice lady?” He looked right at Nancy and she finally brought her eyes to meet his. And, in that moment, she felt the fear lift from her. He was a beautiful man, there was no doubt about that—and that smile, and those eyes that danced. She was smitten, but it was something deeper than that, something she had never felt before.

“I’m Nancy,” she heard herself say.

“Pleased to meet you, Nancy. I’m Rudy.” He held out his cuffed hands and she shook them. “Did Jack rope you into this?”

“No. Well, yes and no. He brought me over from Miami.” She felt like an idiot, not knowing what to say.

“So you came from the big firm? How do you like Bass Creek?”

“Oh, I’ve been to Bass Creek before, fishing with my dad. I really like it.”

“You like to fish? I love the water, that’s—that was my favorite thing. I used to go out in this little boat I had, but I usually didn’t fish. I just liked being out there, floating around, watching all the birds and the animals along the shore—I even liked the gators. That was my world, a world that Jack’s trying to keep me from getting back to.” He smiled and looked at Jack. “Isn’t that right, Jack?”

Jack smiled back. “I guess so, Rudy.”