The Mayor of Lexington Avenue (34 page)

Outside, somebody with a radio shouted, “It’s over!” People started crying. Jack held Pat and the two of them cried in each other’s arms.

P
ART
T
HREE

Thirty–seven

It took Jack several weeks to open the letter Rudy had given him at their last meeting. It was a short letter, and Jack could tell it had been written slowly, maybe over a period of days. The penmanship was very good.

After the new flood of emotions had subsided, Jack started to deconstruct the letter in his own mind. He’d had similar thoughts, but none so clear and focused.
And they say he was slow! He was slow enough to see things that the rest of us miss. How did he know Nancy was dead? Why did he tell me to remember? That’s exactly what his father told me so many years ago.

He made the decision right then that he was going to heed Rudy’s advice no matter where it took him.

His first step was to call Blaine Redford, the accident reconstruction deputy, to see if he’d found out anything more. He hadn’t. Jack asked him what he’d said to the governor, and Redford told him the governor had never called. Then Jack phoned the homicide detective, Lawrence Applegate, to see if he’d been able to determine where Nancy had been just before she was killed. Detective Applegate said she’d been at Maria Lopez’s house. He’d questioned Maria, and she’d said it had just been a social call, that they were friends from aerobics class.

Jack knew different. He knew that Maria had given Nancy a piece of evidence that Nancy had believed would free Rudy. So, a few days later, on a Saturday, Jack paid a visit to Maria Lopez. He brought Pat along with him. He knew he needed her, but he wasn’t sure why.

Maria lived alone in a subdivision just outside Bass Creek called “Foxtrot.” It was a nice place, and Jack knew it had probably taken just about every penny she’d saved as administrative assistant to the chief of police. But he also couldn’t help remembering that this was the home Nancy had visited the night she was murdered.

They exchanged a few pleasantries, although Maria was clearly uncomfortable. Pat commented on the pictures of a boy and a girl hanging on the living room wall, and Maria told her the kids were grown now and living in Miami.
She must be older than she looks
, Jack thought. She also told Pat—she was pretty much ignoring Jack—that her ex-husband had run out on her not long after the children were born, and she’d raised them alone.

Then Jack started to explain exactly why they were there. For the first few minutes Maria gave him the same polite, deferential “I don’t know anything” routine she’d given the police, but Jack was not going to be turned away. He’d lost too many people for that.

“Maria, I know you’re afraid.” They were sitting in the living room, Maria and Pat on the couch and Jack in a chair facing Maria. “I know that you’re thinking: If they killed Tracey James and Nancy, they can kill me.” Maria’s eyes shot a darting glance at him. Jack read her look.

“Yes, Maria—I know. I know Nancy was murdered and I know Tracey James was murdered. And I know they were murdered because of the information you gave them.” Maria wanted to disagree with him—at least as far as Tracey James was concerned. But she didn’t dare. She was playing the silent game for as long as she could. Jack continued. “And I know you’re thinking that you’re next. After all, you work for one of the murderers.”

Maria couldn’t believe her ears. Jack Tobin had just accused her boss, Chief Wesley Brume, of murder—a fact that she knew to be absolutely true.

“And you probably
are
next,” Jack said quietly, leaning forward. “You can’t just stay silent, Maria, and hope this will go away. The cat is out of the bag and these guys will not rest until all evidence against them has been eliminated. And that means you, Maria. You need help because they’re going to kill you. Not right away—maybe a few months from now when all this has died down. They’ll arrange for an accident and you’ll be killed—just like Tracey and Nancy. There is no way around that fact.”

Jack watched her intently as he spoke, looking for some sign that she understood the gravity of his message. Hell, he couldn’t make it any clearer. But Maria never changed her expression. She either looked straight ahead or at the floor. He had tried to create in her all the fear that he could. Now it was time to make his pitch.

“If you tell me what you know, I’ll protect you, Maria. I won’t breathe a word of it until I have a plan to put these people away. One way or the other, I’m going to do something—I don’t know what it is yet. But when I start, you will be protected, I assure you. And I have the resources to do it. Maria, I’m your only hope. Help me to help you.”

Maria still sat on her living room couch expressionless. Jack stood up and started rubbing his temples and pacing. When he reached the far end of the room and was out of earshot, Pat put her right hand on Maria’s shoulder and spoke softly.

“Maria, you have to trust somebody. Trust him. He needs to help you as much as you need him. He feels that he failed Nancy and Rudy.”

Maria looked straight into Pat’s eyes. Pat held her gaze. She knew what the woman was looking for. She nodded encouragingly to her. “Speak to him. Tell him what he needs to know.”

Jack was still pacing, and Pat motioned for him to come back and sit down. When he did, Maria started to speak, but she didn’t look at him. She kept her gaze down at a spot on the floor near his feet.

“Two years after Rudy was convicted of Lucy Ochoa’s murder, we—I mean the police department—received a letter from the police department of the City of Del Rio, Texas. I was a receptionist/secretary at the time, and it was my job to open the mail. The letter said they had just arrested a man named Geronimo Cruz for rape and murder. It just so happened that he had a Florida driver’s license that listed an address in Bass Creek. It was a typical inquiry letter. They wanted to know if we were looking for him for any reason or if we could supply them with any information that would assist them in their investigation or prosecution.”

Maria looked up into Jack’s face for the first time. “I should tell you that it was common knowledge among the Latinos of Bass Creek that a man named Geronimo killed Lucy Ochoa. When I read this letter, I immediately told Wesley—he was a sergeant then—about it. I knew he had investigated Lucy’s murder. He called the state attorney, Clay Evans, right there and then from the phone at my desk, and I heard him telling him about the letter. He listened to whatever Clay Evans was saying, and then I heard him say, ‘I’ll be right over,’ and as soon as he put down the phone, he set out for Mr. Evans’s office with the letter in hand.”

She dropped her eyes to the floor again. “I never heard anything after that. It was never mentioned again. I never saw the letter again.”

At first, Jack couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but after a few moments it all made sense to him. Everything fell into place. Rudy’s case had been very high profile. All the local affiliates covered it, as did the national news media, probably because of the gruesome nature of the crime and the “boy-next-door” qualities of the young man who supposedly did it. At the time this letter surfaced, Clay Evans was being considered for a federal judgeship solely because of the attention he received for the successful prosecution of the Kelly case. If that case had gone south, his prospects would have as well.
He probably promised Brume something, maybe the chief of police job, in return for shit-canning the letter.

“Why didn’t you tell somebody about this when it happened?” Jack almost shouted. Pat gave him a look like daggers.

“Who was I going to tell? Who was going to believe me—a poor Latino woman with two kids and no husband? If I had the letter I would have said something. Without it I couldn’t risk it. I had two kids to protect. I finally told Nancy. I had to. I couldn’t let Rudy die without telling someone. But look what they did to her
and
Tracey James.”

Maria was sobbing now. Pat put her arms around her and comforted her.

“Jack, you’ve got to stop!” she said. “It’s not this poor woman’s fault. She didn’t do anything.”

But Jack was still thinking about Nancy, and about Rudy. And in his frustration he wasn’t able to stir much sympathy for Maria.
She was rewarded for her silence! She’s the administrative assistant to the chief of police! Doesn’t she know how she got that job!
But the more rational part of his brain knew Pat was right. Maria hadn’t spoken up because she was afraid and she had probably correctly assessed the situation: Nobody would have believed her. And the danger to her and her children was very real—Tracey James and Nancy could have attested to that
if they were still around!

“I’m sorry, Maria. I didn’t mean that. I guess I’m still on edge. Listen, for now until we figure out what we’re going to do, let’s just pretend we never had this conversation.”

Maria didn’t say anything. Her sobs had stopped, but the tears were still running down her face.

Jack came up with a plan two weeks later. Bob Richards had called to mend fences.

“How are you doing, Jack?” Bob asked in his most sympathetic voice. Jack was about to tell him to go fuck himself when the idea struck him.

“I’m okay, Bob, thanks for asking.” The governor started to say something else equally insincere—apparently he couldn’t help himself—when Jack sprang the question. “Is the job still mine, Bob? Or did I go too far?”

“I’m not sure, Jack. I didn’t know you still wanted it.”

“Well, I do—that is, if you still want me.”

“Let me think about it. I’ll get back to you in a few days.”

It was a good performance, probably because he’d had no time to rehearse. After that, it had been easy to seal the deal. He called David Williams, a state senator from Miami and an old acquaintance he’d supported and campaigned for in the past. David was now the senate president. Jack asked him to put in a good word for him with Bob Richards. Next, he called a few very wealthy contributors to the governor’s campaign that he knew and asked them to do the same thing. It was totally out of character for him and it made him feel a little slimy, but he kept telling himself it was for a higher purpose. By the end of the week, the state attorney’s job was his again.

He and Pat paid another visit to Maria Lopez after Jack’s new position had been secured.

“I start work as the new state attorney in a couple of weeks, and I want you to come work for me.” This time Jack was sitting on the couch so he wasn’t directly confronting Maria. Pat took the chair. It was a subtle move that he never even would have considered if Pat hadn’t suggested it.
I need to keep this woman around
, he smiled to himself.

“I can’t,” Maria said, with an edge of desperation in her voice. “If I go to work for you they’ll know I talked to you. They’ll kill me.”

“Maria, I’m going to move against these guys soon. I don’t know the exact time frame because certain things have to happen over which I don’t have any control. I can’t explain it any better than that right now. But if they get wind that I’m planning something against them, you’ll be in danger no matter who you’re working for.” Jack was failing miserably at the reassurance game.

Pat took over at that point. “Maria, our plan is not only to have you work for Jack, but to have you come live with us as well. Not forever—we don’t want you to have to give up your house—but until this is done. We have a big place and we’re going to have two retired Miami police officers, homicide detectives, living with us and guarding us twenty-four hours a day. One of them will drive you and Jack to work and pick you up every day. We’re going to make you as safe as you can possibly be.”

“I don’t know. What about my kids?” Pat had known she would be overwhelmed and her first thought would be about her children.

“We’ve discussed that,” Jack jumped in, “that maybe they would go after your children.” Pat looked warningly at him, but he knew where he was going this time. “We’ve looked into their circumstances, and as you know, neither Carlos nor Maria is attached. Neither has started on a career path yet. We can relocate them and give them new identities temporarily. We have the resources to do that.” He chose not to mention that this part of the project would be completely under the table.

Maria just looked at him, as if to ask by her expression,
Isn’t that illegal? Won’t you be the state attorney?