The Mayor of Lexington Avenue (23 page)

“Not for seventeen years.”

“That’s pretty ballsy.”

“Or desperate—and it turned out to be desperate. Mike gave what he could. The sister, Marguerite, gave money too but apparently it wasn’t enough. The kid was charged with murder. The private attorney quit because she—I think it was a woman—wasn’t getting paid. The public defender handled the case and, I guess, screwed it up because the kid got convicted of first-degree murder. He’s on death row right now.”

“Death row? Holy shit!”

“Yeah, holy shit is right. You don’t hear from your wife and kid for seventeen years—and don’t get me wrong, I think she should have left him and started a new life, I’m not blaming her—but after all that time, you finally hear from them and your son is on trial for his life and eventually gets convicted. It’s enough to start a man drinking again.”

“Did he?” Jack asked.

“No. He probably would have but it’s kind of amazing what happened next—one of those things that happens only in real life. Even though he had been contacted and sent money, Mike still didn’t know where his wife and kid were—everything was through Marguerite. It wasn’t till the boy was convicted that Elena called him personally. Mike told me she was at the end of her rope. She apologized for leaving him, she apologized for being such a bad mother—she thanked him for sending the money and told him where they were living.”

“What did he do?” Jack asked.

“He flew down there a few days later—visited his son in jail. Spent a few days with Elena talking things out. He explained to her that she had every right to leave him and that he should be the one apologizing. When he came back, he told me that the boy was a sweetheart. He was certain after talking to him for two minutes that Rudy—his name’s Rudy—never could have committed the crime he was accused of. Well, he and Elena spent the rest of their lives working on proving Rudy’s innocence. There were two appeals that I know of before Elena died. She died about two years ago of breast cancer.

“You know, in the midst of all this really, really bad stuff, I’d never seen Mike happier. He and Elena were together again. He was in Florida twice a month. She even came here sometimes. He visited the boy a lot and he told me the boy—I shouldn’t say boy. Hell, Rudy was almost a man. Anyway, he said the kid really lifted his spirits. He said Rudy was always happy, never afraid. And he was overjoyed that Mike and his mother had rekindled their relationship, regardless of the circumstances.”

“I wonder why he never called me,” Jack pondered out loud. “Did he know I was in Miami? I could have helped.”

“He knew you were there. He was always so proud of the fact that you were a big-time attorney. But once Rudy was convicted, they had one of those death penalty centers working with them at no cost.”

“That’s such bullshit and you know it,” Jack replied. “We both know why he didn’t call me.” He stared at her. Pat stared back, not saying anything. Finally she spoke. She was ready for him.

“Let me see if I can guess what’s in your head and what’s been in your head for all these years. If
you
didn’t get the bright idea to steal that car, Mike wouldn’t have gone to jail. And now you can add to that—he wouldn’t have become a drunk and Elena wouldn’t have left him and Rudy would never have been in Florida and charged with murder. How am I doing? Oh, I left out the most important part. It’s all
your
fault. Everything.”

He almost smiled. How could she smoke him out and be so dead on point?

“This is really weird. You and I haven’t spoken in years and I feel like I’m talking to my sister about something that happened yesterday.”

“Well, get over it, Johnny, because the important things in your life did happen yesterday, no matter how long ago they occurred. Same with the people you grew up with—we could go a hell of a lot more years without seeing each other and I could still read your mind.”

“What made you so smart?” Jack felt like he was a kid again, fighting back.

“For one, I never left this neighborhood. I’ve been living with these issues through Mike. I can’t tell you how many times he talked about calling you and I know you felt the same way. It’s not hard really and it’s nobody’s fault.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Jack said. “I didn’t go to prison, Mikey did. I was the successful one. It was my obligation to call—my duty to make everything okay between us. I didn’t do that.”

“Let me just tell you what Mike said about that whole incident. He said it was his idea to take the car for a joyride. He only made it seem like it was your idea. He set you up and he never felt you were responsible for him going to prison.”

“Then why didn’t he call me?”

“I tried to get him to, but he was as stubborn as you. He figured you got on with your life and you didn’t need to be reminded of this stuff. I think he knew he was kidding himself, though. Two days before he died—he was in the hospital in very bad shape—I was sitting by his bed. He opened his eyes and looked at me and said, ‘When Johnny comes, tell him about Rudy.’ Then he closed his eyes and never opened them again.”

The tears started to well again in Jack’s eyes. He waited a moment before he spoke.
His last words were about me. How did he know I would come? Why couldn’t I have called him when he was alive?
he asked himself, but there was no answer. There would never be an answer.

“Why didn’t you tell me that before? Why’d you give me that shit about them having one of those law centers handling the case?” he asked Pat.

“I wasn’t sure you cared. I wasn’t sure you wanted—needed to know.”

“And now you are?”

Pat just nodded.

“Two more questions and then I’ll drop the subject. It’s too much for one night. If it’s been ten years since Rudy’s conviction, his execution must be scheduled.”

“Eight weeks from now—to be exact, October 22nd. Apparently they like to schedule these things just before the holidays. You know, give the families a little something extra for the season.”

“Eight weeks! I still can’t accept the fact that he didn’t call me.”

“He knew you were in Miami so he probably knew you didn’t do criminal law. Maybe he figured you couldn’t help him anyway.”

“Then why did he open his eyes and tell you to tell me about Rudy?”

“I don’t know, Jack. Maybe his thinking changed just before he died. Maybe he had a vision or something?”

A vision,
Jack thought.
Why would he have a vision about me at the last minute?

“Where did this murder take place?” he asked Pat.

She put her hand on her forehead. “I can’t remember the name of the town where they lived. It was a small town in the middle of nowhere, I remember Mike telling me that.
Something
Creek, I think.”

“Bass Creek?”

Pat pointed at him. “That’s it!”

Jack knew right then what he was going to be doing for the next eight weeks.

Twenty–three

One week later Jack was in Bass Creek doing a little real estate shopping. He bought a building on Broad Street two blocks west of the Bass Creek Hotel, right on the Okalatchee River. He’d spotted the place years before when his dream about being a country lawyer was still fresh. Now that dream was over—almost. He still had a few months of freedom before he became the state attorney, and he planned to put that freedom to good use for the next seven weeks. The office was the first step.

The next day, back at his plush digs in Miami, Jack called Nancy in. His relationship with her had changed considerably since Corinne had taken her first and only sick day less than two weeks before. He stopped and talked to her every morning. Some days he invited her into his office and they sat and chatted about anything and everything—sports, the news, her love life or lack of it, even his love life or lack of it. Nancy was totally relaxed with Jack now, as he was with her. That one morning they’d shared had broken down the culture of formality and separation that Tobin, Gleason and Gardner had always demanded from its partners and employees—at least for the two of them.

Elsewhere within the firm, though, their relationship was causing an uproar. Corinne was dumbfounded by the lack of protocol and she had taken her concerns directly to Rick Woods, who had spoken to Jack about it just that morning.

“You know, Nancy,” Jack said when she’d sat down, “Rick came in earlier to talk about our relationship.” He was leaning back in his chair with his feet up on the desk, his usual posture these days.

“Which means he’s probably going to fire me,” she said, not really meaning it.

“You’re probably right.”

Nancy was shocked. She’d thought as they’d grown closer that he would protect her. But Jack had another plan.

“Listen,” he continued, seeing the look of consternation on her face, “I’m leaving here, probably in the next few days. It all depends on how soon I can get my affairs in order.”

“Where are you going?”

“To a little town called Bass Creek—ever hear of it?”

“Sure. My father’s taken me there a few times when he’s gone fishing,” she replied. Jack knew there was yet another reason he liked this girl:
She goes fishing.

“Why are you going there?” she asked.

“Well, it has always been my dream to open a little country office.”

“You? A country lawyer?” The incongruity overcame her concern for a moment and she started laughing.

“Why not?” he asked, a smile breaking across his face.

“Jack, those are real people over there. They’ve got mud on their boots. They spill coffee on your carpet. There’s no Momma Corinnes over there.” Jack was laughing wildly now. Corinne could hear him from the outer office. She wondered what the two of them were doing in there this time. It was awful and she was so embarrassed.

“Stop, you’re killing me,” Jack said, and then he was serious again. “I’ve been planning this for a long time but some pieces are missing.”

Nancy got it all at once. “Oh no, not me. I’m not going to be your Momma Corinne. You need to find somebody else,” she protested.

“Think about it for a minute or two, Miss Impulsive. I’ll give you a twenty percent raise, same benefits. Do you know what you can do with that kind of money in Bass Creek? Hell, you can buy the best house in town with an apartment for your father if he wants to visit or even stay. I’ll tell you what, I’ll
buy
you a house. I’ll give you a mortgage and you can pay me.” Jack had done his homework. He knew the points to hit and to hit quickly. He could see Nancy turning the offer over in her mind, picturing her own house and her dad fishing every day.

“Why are you doing this? Why me?”

“Because I like you and I want to be comfortable in my new digs—none of this formal crap. We’ll work hard and we’ll have fun and you’ll learn a lot, I promise you. Maybe you’ll be a lawyer someday.”

Nancy blushed at the thought. “Can I think about it? I want to talk to my dad.”

“Sure. Take your time. I can probably take Rick for another two days or so.” They both laughed again. It was good, comfortable. Nancy stood up.

“I’ll let you know in two days.”

Two weeks later, Nancy started her new job in Bass Creek. Jack had already been there for a week. Before she made her final decision, he’d let her know what his plans were both for Rudy’s case and for the aftermath.

“I may burn a few bridges before this is over, in which case I’ll go back to my original plan, being the country lawyer. Either way—at the state attorney’s office or in private practice—you’ll be with me and you’ll have the same salary and benefits we agreed on.”

He’d lived up to his other promises as well. A week after she agreed to take the job, she’d found a place in Bass Creek for her and her dad, a two-story clapboard house with hardwood floors and a huge front porch shaded by two giant oaks—a house she could only have dreamed about in Miami—and Jack had bought it for her. It had a garage apartment but she had already decided that dad was going to live in the house with her. If she ever met somebody and they decided to roll around in the sack,
they
could use the garage apartment. The house was unoccupied and Jack paid cash, so the closing was a few days later. The mortgage he drew up for her was a sweetheart deal as well—thirty years with an interest rate well under prime.

“What if I quit tomorrow?” she asked him just before signing the note.

“Nothing,” Jack replied. “No strings attached.”

“All right,” she said as she put pen to paper. She knew she was in for the long haul anyway.

He’d also advanced her five thousand dollars to buy furniture and had given her that first week to shop for whatever she needed. When she started her new career with Jack, Nancy and her dad were already living in their house. She and Jack had five weeks left to try to save Rudy.

That Monday morning, as Jack and Nancy sat down in his office to discuss their plans for the next five weeks—he behind his desk in his new burgundy leather swivel, she in one of the two equally impressive burgundy leather early American client chairs—there was a knock on his door. Before he or Nancy could get up to answer it, Pat Morgan walked in.

“Am I late for the meeting?” she asked, a smile spreading across her face. Jack was totally perplexed.

“What meeting?” he stammered.

“The first meeting with your investigative team on the Rudy Kelly case, what else?” she replied.

“How did you know we were having a meeting on Rudy’s case?”

“Let’s just say a little birdie told me.” Pat looked at Nancy and they both laughed. Jack was still completely puzzled so Pat filled in the blanks.

“You told me to ask for Nancy when I called you at work if you weren’t there, so I did. And Nancy and I started talking and she told me what your plans were and I decided to come down and help.” Jack started to break in, but Pat went right on.

“Look, I’m retired like you. I don’t know what to do with myself, so I decided you needed my services. I’m organized; I’m good with figures; I know computers; and I can cook and even wash dishes.”

She sat down in the vacant client chair. Jack looked at Nancy, who just shrugged her shoulders and then broke into a big beaming smile. This was a deal that had already been made.