The Mayor of Lexington Avenue (29 page)

Nancy was mystified. “I don’t understand. I thought we were trying to get you back there?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, you are, in one sort of way. But I’ve got my heart set on going back in a different way. I’d like to go back there as a bird—like an osprey, soaring over my kingdom.”

“You mean you don’t want to get off death row,” she said, almost in a whisper.

He leaned in, like it was just the two of them there. “I can’t say that—Jack’s here. And now you’re here, and I know there’s a reason for that. I’m just not sure it’s about saving me. Maybe, somehow, there’s another purpose. Something we don’t see yet. But if it is to save me,” he said, and she could almost feel his eyes seeing right into her heart, “then I want to live. And find out what I’m supposed to do with the rest of my life. But if it’s my time to go, I know where I’m going and who I’m going to see when I get there.”

He’d been smiling the whole time. Nancy didn’t know what to say. It was as if this was the first conversation she’d ever had with anyone.

“Who are you going to see when you get there?” she asked, her voice still quiet.

“My mom and dad. They’re waiting for me,” he said, a twinkle in his eye, his smile even bigger. She had a sudden urge to reach across the table and hug him. Here in this cold, dreary prison, she was talking to a convicted murderer she had just met—and she
knew
this was the man she had been waiting for all her life.

“How do you know? How can you be so sure?” she asked, not out of any disbelief in what he was saying, but with a genuine curiosity.

“When you’re by yourself all day and you know what’s probably going to happen to you soon,” and Nancy dropped her eyes for just a moment before looking up again into his face, “if you let yourself, you can feel and see things you wouldn’t normally see. What I feel and what I see in my mind makes me sure.”

“I never thought about it like that,” she replied. She wasn’t afraid at all now to be honest and say what she was thinking. “But I guess if I was about to die, I’d like to know that somebody was waiting for me on the other side.”

“I’ll be on the other side. I’ll be one of your special people.”

She didn’t know what to say. It was almost too much, and she slipped back into the role she had prepared for. “But we’re here to save you, Rudy.”

“I know, I know—but there’s a reason you’re here whether you save me or not, I just know it. There’s a reason we’re meeting. However it goes for me, you are now one of my special people.”

“And you’re one of mine,” she said, softening again, and reaching again for his manacled hands.

Later, on the drive home, she and Jack talked about the visit.

“I’m sorry, Jack. I’m sorry I talked so much.”

“Don’t be sorry. That’s why I brought you with me.”

“But you had things to talk about and I took up your time. And I was saying the stupidest things—I don’t know where they were coming from.”

“You were just responding to Rudy, and Rudy comes from a different place—a place where few people ever go.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Absolutely.”

“Because that’s what I was thinking. It’s like he sees things nobody else sees.”

“Yeah,” Jack replied. “And they say he’s slow. Maybe we should all be so slow. We might see things a little clearer. Besides, I had enough time with Rudy to get any questions I had answered. Unfortunately, I didn’t learn anything new. We still have no issues to appeal.”

“I’ll find what you’re looking for, Jack. I’ll go through our files tonight with a fine-tooth comb. If there’s something we’re missing, I’ll find it.”

Jack just nodded. He knew now why Pat had insisted on Nancy coming. Pat had known instinctively that the visit would inspire Nancy. And she also knew that he needed the help—an extra set of eyes.

They drove in silence for a while. Jack could tell that Nancy was still going over in her mind the events of that afternoon, trying to make sense of it.

“He just spent the last ten years of his life in jail and he seems happy as a clam.”

Jack just nodded in agreement. He knew there was more to come.

“Do you think he really doesn’t want to live?”

“I’ve thought about that myself a lot. And I’ve come to the conclusion that Rudy is the true definition of the eternal optimist. That’s the way his father was when he was a kid. Rudy is facing death so he’s putting a positive spin on it. That’s not to say he doesn’t see things that we don’t or that he doesn’t believe what he says, because he does. But if we save him, he’ll be just as positive about that.”

“What do you think he meant when he said we might be involved for another reason we don’t yet know about?”

“I have no idea. It’s hard enough to try and understand a human being facing death with a smile. I can’t comprehend any more than that.”

They stopped at a greasy spoon for a burger and ate in silence. When they finally got back on the road it was dark.

“I felt something between me and Rudy,” Nancy said as Jack exited off the highway a few miles from Bass Creek.

“I saw that,” Jack said, looking over at her. “There was definitely something going on between you two.”

“I’d love to go out on the river to some of his favorite spots. The way he described it, it sounds like heaven.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s the way he sees it too.”

Nancy sighed. “We definitely have things in common. It’s just my luck to meet the man of my dreams on death row.” Jack just smiled.

Thirty–one

Nancy called him at seven the next morning. He had just finished his sit-ups and was going through his daily stretching routine when the phone rang.

“Jack, it’s me, Nancy.” As if he didn’t recognize her voice. She sounded awfully excited. “Jack, I’m at the office and I think I found what you’re looking for.”

“Don’t tell me over the phone. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Who was that?” Pat asked. She was still in bed, lying next to the spot Jack had so recently vacated.

“It was Nancy. She found something.” He was already moving toward the bathroom as he was talking. He brushed his teeth in the shower, didn’t bother to shave, dressed in a flash, kissed Pat goodbye, and headed for the office.

Nancy looked like something the cat dragged in. She was still dressed in the same pantsuit from the day before, although the jacket was off and slung haphazardly on a chair in Jack’s office and her white blouse was wrinkled and stained with office-brewed coffee. There were dark circles under her eyes. He could tell she was bone-weary but very excited.

“What did you find?”

“Take a look at this.” She handed him a thin manila file. He opened it and saw several pages that appeared to be the results of chemical lab analyses. There were blood and urine test results and toxicology reports. It took him a moment to realize what he was reading. Then it came to him in a flash.

“That’s it! That’s what I knew in the back of my head was missing—the lab analyses in the coroner’s report. Where was it?”

“It was one of those little files in the back of one of the boxes that apparently none of us ever got to when we went through the stuff the first time.” Jack remembered. He had read the investigative reports thoroughly but had ignored the thin files at the bottom of the second box. He was just too tired to read them and assumed they were unimportant.

“Now take a look at this.” She handed him a second thin manila file. He opened it and started to read a two-page police report dated on the same day as the murder about a suspected rape
of Lucy Ochoa!
His heart started to race. He could feel the blood coursing through his veins at breakneck speed as he tried to slow his eyes down and read the report—and then the lab results again. A picture started to emerge—a very sinister picture.

“Do you know what this means?” he said.

“I think so,” she said, watching his eyes dart across the pages. “Although it’s taken me most of the night to figure out what you figured out in a couple of minutes.”

“Take me through it,” Jack said, hoping to calm himself while he listened to her explanation.

“Apparently, they found semen inside Lucy Ochoa the night she was murdered. The blood type from the semen was AB. That was different from the blood type on the carpet, Rudy’s blood. So they started a separate rape file. I’m not exactly sure why. I think they were up to no good but I’m not exactly sure how it worked.”

“You’re right so far. Here’s the rest. The blood and the semen created a big problem. It put two people in the house. So they—the prosecutor and the police—decided to eliminate the problem by creating two crimes. By having a separate rape investigation, they didn’t have to produce that file for the defense in the murder case. And also, since it was a criminal investigation, the documents weren’t public records, so nobody—including the press—could get at them.

“The press usually gets at least some of their information through a public records request. The state attorney knew that.”

“Why did we get the rape file?”

“We made a public records request for all documents relating to Lucy Ochoa or Rudy Kelly. The criminal investigation of the rape case—an investigation that, in fact, never existed—ended years ago. Once the investigation was over, those documents became available. Apparently, nobody has made a public records request since the original murder investigation ended.”

“I think I get it,” Nancy said. She was following but it was tricky, and this was all new to her. There was one other thought she had to get out before she lost it. “What about the coroner’s toxicology report? Wouldn’t the defense have seen that? And wouldn’t that show the semen and the different blood type?”

“It would if the defense had seen it. Note that the toxicology report is titled: ‘Addendum to Coroner’s Report.’ I’ll bet the coroner was in on this little scam. He didn’t issue his toxicology report with his initial report. It wasn’t forwarded to the defense, and the idiot who was representing Rudy never thought to request it later. And nobody picked up on the discrepancy in the appeals.”

“What about Rudy’s blood analysis? Wouldn’t that have been part of the coroner’s report?” Nancy asked. She felt a little stupid but she was still putting it all together.

“No. The coroner is only concerned with the body of the deceased. The semen was in Lucy’s body. Rudy’s blood that was found on the carpet was analyzed by the police—they used a crime lab in Miami.”

“Wow! So the two blood types were never described in the same report! So where do we go from here?”

“Well,” Jack said, “I finally have an issue that I can appeal. I’m confident that when the Florida Supreme Court finds out what the state attorney and the police did, we’ll get a new trial and, if Rudy gets a new trial, he will not be convicted again.”

“You really think we can get him out of prison?”

“I really do. It’s a long process but the worm definitely turned today, and you, Nancy, made it turn.”

Nancy didn’t know what to say. She was definitely excited but the prospect of Rudy’s freedom down the road wasn’t enough for her. She wanted Rudy to walk out of prison right away.

“What do we do next?” she asked.

“Next, I have to write this brief. I can probably do it in a week. As I said before, I anticipate the court will give the attorney general’s office maybe a week to respond and oral arguments will be set a few days after that. We’ll get a couple of days before the execution is scheduled in case we need to go to the next step, the Supreme Court of the United States. I don’t think we will, though. Nancy, this was great work.”

“What do we do between now and then?” she asked urgently, ignoring the compliment.

“I’m going to be tied up doing this brief, mostly.”

“Well, I’m going to continue to run down leads. Maybe we can find out whose semen that was. If that’s all right with you?”

“Sure. Just be careful.”

“I will. I just want to do whatever I can for Rudy.”

Thirty–two

“All right, ladies, stretch. Reach a little more. Stretch. That’s it. Let’s run in place—knees up high. Come on, Nancy, you can get those knees up.” Nancy smiled and raised her knees a little higher. Their instructor always seemed to be able to tell when someone could give it just a little bit more. She was so demanding!

She appeared to be in her mid-thirties and fit the stereotypical model for an aerobics instructor—on the small side but every muscle perfectly toned. Nancy thought she looked Mexican, or perhaps Puerto Rican or even Indian. She had creamy, shiny smooth skin and long, silky black hair that she tied in a bun for class. And she was a boundless font of energy.

Nancy had been in the class for two weeks and it was killing her. But she was already starting to see a difference. She’d never exercised before—didn’t need to, or so she’d thought. Now that her abs were tightening and her biceps and legs were showing some tone and definition, she realized this might be something that was good for her.

It was a little storefront studio on Main Street—Bass Creek was too small for a health club. They were a small group, only eight of them, and they were starting to get to know each other. They met three times a week and usually went out for coffee afterwards. This Friday night the five of them who were single were going to go out for drinks.

Nancy had not joined the class to tone up, however. She had read about Maria Lopez in the transcript of the suppression hearing. Maria had been the receptionist at the police department at the time of Rudy’s interrogation and still worked there ten years later, although she was now an administrative assistant to the chief of police. Nancy had been impressed by the forthrightness of Maria’s testimony at the hearing. She suspected Maria had been pressured to “forget” some of the specifics about what happened at the police station when Rudy’s mother tried to stop the interrogation. But Maria apparently hadn’t forgotten anything and didn’t hesitate to give the details.

Nancy thought Maria might still have a sour taste in her mouth about what occurred ten years ago to a young Puerto Rican boy. If she could tap into that distaste, maybe Nancy could learn something about the case—something that didn’t show up in the police reports or the transcripts. So she started going to the police department for innocuous reasons—once to pick up a form, two days later to pay a parking ticket she’d gotten deliberately. On the second visit, she managed to spot Maria sitting at her workstation, identifying her by the nameplate on her desk. At five o’clock that evening, Nancy waited near the police station in hopes of seeing Maria leave and orchestrating some way to strike up a conversation. As luck would have it, Maria headed straight over to the aerobics studio. Nancy didn’t find out she was actually the instructor until she joined the class herself the next day.