Chasing Suspect Three (12 page)

“Richie does seem right for this, a shady
character with no past.”

“He’s beyond shady. He doesn’t even cast a
shadow. I couldn’t find anything on him. The only Richie Grant in
existence is the reality show star and he’s filming a segment in
Bora Bora. What do the police say about him?” he asked.

“I haven’t mentioned his name to them.
Somehow, I thought I’d do my checking first without getting him all
excited and going to a lawyer. Claudia knows him, but claims she
doesn’t know where he lives and hasn’t seen him lately. I’m
debating whether I should tell Shapiro about Richie, so they can
start looking for him. They have much better resources including
the FBI.”

Someone calling out from the office front
door interrupted them. The wrong time for the mail carrier. She
walked down the hall and saw a young man in a green uniform step in
and close the door behind him. He held a small padded envelope in
one hand and a clipboard in the other. “Delivery, package for Sandy
Reid...needs a signature.”

“That’s me, but I’m not expecting anything.”
She signed and took the small package. “No return address on here.
Who’s it from?”

The man shuffled through his papers. “Just
says our office downtown. Someone left it there for local
delivery.” The man turned and left.

Martin walked over. “You want me to open
it?”

“As long as it’s not full of white
powder.”

He torn the perforated tab from the package
and opened the envelope. He pulled out half-inch thick bundles of
crisp one hundred-dollar bills. He counted the bundles. “A normal
wrapper holds one hundred bills. I’d say you have ten thousand
dollars here.”

She hurried and opened the front door and
looked out at the street. “Delivery guy’s gone. Geez Louise, that’s
my retainer—part of it anyway, and I told her no cash.” She picked
up and held a bundle in each hand as though guessing the weight.
“Cash is a lot of fun, isn’t it?”

“I’ll put it in the office safe.”

“I wanted a check from her. Imagine the bills
I could pay with this. My part in helping out the economy is
overdue.”

“Why don’t I go over to the office of the
delivery service and see if I can find out who sent it.”

“Good. They must have a name, and get a
description of whoever left it there. It’s probably Richie. I’m
going back out to the jail. Margo has some explaining to do.”

“This isn’t street money, Sandy, if that’s
what you’re thinking. This isn’t old beat up bills. This money came
fresh from a bank. Look at the wrappers.”

O
n the drive out to
the county jail that afternoon, Sandy recognized one of her most
dreaded feelings. The feeling she was losing control. Not good for
someone who functioned on a gutsy personality. She understood that
most of the world never would be under her control. That was fine.
She didn’t have to be in charge of everything as long as she felt
in charge of herself and in charge of her own destiny. When at
times she felt out of control, she had to remind herself to just
relax, have faith in herself and her abilities. Let things work out
for themselves. Let go a little and let life happen.

She knew that Margo lacked self-confidence.
Other people had always given her directions; she probably hadn’t
made any major life decision herself. Whoever had been in her head
lately wasn’t giving her good directions. Now she was isolated in
jail, she was lost, and she wasn’t following Sandy’s lead.

Sandy had enough. This wasn’t one of those
times to relax and let things happen. Margo was out of control, and
Sandy didn’t intend to be taken down with her. Either Margo starts
following orders, is honest and helpful, or she can shove it. The
money and career boost would be nice; nevertheless, Sandy just
couldn’t operate this way.

After checking in at the jail processing
area, she found Margo waiting in the same small conference room.
She got right to it. “Margo, I don’t think you realize I may be the
only thing standing between you and a lot of hard time.” She paused
to let the words sink in. “Now I don’t care if after this case is
over, you intentionally destroy your life. But as long as I’m
defending you, I’m demanding your truthfulness and cooperation.”
She raised her voice, “You must start doing what I tell you.”

Margo’s mouth was half open, and she appeared
shaken by the words. She looked away from Sandy, down at her
hands.

“And stop that dumb act of yours, it’s
pissing me off. Look at me! You have to be absolutely open with me.
You need to tell me about all of your actions before and after the
time of the murder. I must know exactly what happened.” She
received a look that made her wonder if Margo was getting any of
this. “The prosecution will parse every syllable I utter in the
courtroom for some discrepancy. They’ll latch on to any little
inconsistency and twist it into a lie. If the jury gets the idea
you’re lying, you’re dead.”

Was there any chance this was getting through
to her?

“For example, why didn’t you tell me you
received a text from John the night of the murder?”

“I don’t remember anything like that.”

“You’re still playing with fire.” She took a
folder from her briefcase. “The police have your phone. I’ll read
you the text you received from John,
‘I missed you tonight, but
you might as well start squirming now because I’m really going to
nail you next time.’
Do you remember the text now?”

“Are they allowed to nose around in my
private affairs like that?”

“The moment those cuffs clicked on, you no
longer had any private affairs. Everything in your life suddenly
became public. If you stay in jail very long, your dignity and
self-respect also are at risk. Think about people walking passed
your cell and looking in at you as if you’re some caged animal.”
Sandy put on an exaggerated frown. “Tomorrow the assistant state
attorney is going to tell a grand jury that you should stand trial.
For one thing, he will read that text message and claim it made you
so angry you charged over and shot John before he could shoot
you.”

Margo was quiet for a long moment and Sandy
started thinking perhaps what she had said was actually sinking
in.

Then Margo said, “Oh,
that
text, it
wasn’t from John, Richie sent it.”

“Richie!”

“Trying to be sexy. He gets a little horny
sometimes. Bless his heart.
”

Sandy reread the text using the new horny
assumption and raised her eyebrows. “Oh, that’s cute.” She didn’t
know whether to laugh or cry. She wagged her finger at Margo.
“Don’t lie and embarrass me again.” Was there no end to this
woman’s deception? “Geez, what an explanation. If you’re lying to
me, if John did send the text, the police will find a record of
sending it on
his
phone. What can you tell me about his
phone? Do you think the cops have it already?”

“Lots of luck with that. The consulate has an
assortment of phones. Some work in South America, some in Europe,
some here, some everywhere. To hear him describe it, he just
reaches in the bin and pulls one out.”

“At least that’s good news.” Even if they
traced the number to one of the consulate phones, she’d still make
them prove in court that John sent it. She smiled to herself; she’d
use the ridiculous explanation with a straight face. Let them
laugh. It would be up to them to disprove it. “What about Richie’s
number? If he sent it, a record should be on his phone.”

“The cops have my phone. I think his number
is in the directory.”

“I don’t know what to believe from you. Do
you realize they could take you out of here and put you in a real
hard-core prison for the rest of your life?”

“If I ever get out of this place, I’m never
coming back. Never, never, never. Now you remember that.”

“If you don’t like it here, then start
helping me.”

“Did you get the money?”

“That’s another thing. I told you I didn’t
want cash. The cash you had delivered does me no good.”

“Then give it back.” Margo chuckled. “No
really, just put it in the bank.”

“I don’t do highly suspicious things like
spilling out ten grand at a bank teller’s window. No one uses cash
anymore. Where did it come from?”

“I’ll have to think. Oh, I believe Richie
sold his car. I told him I needed the money. He’d do anything for
me.”

“That’s not good enough.” In fact, Sandy
thought it was a fairly reasonable explanation. “Okay. Tell Richie
I want proof he ever owned the car and proof he sold it—old title,
names, something written. You know, I’m not sure your word means
anything to me anymore. If you’ve passed off drug money to me, my
professional reputation could be tarnished forever.”

“Well, I’ll tell him, but deals aren’t nice
and neat in his world.”

“This is the way I intend to stay out of his
world. As it stands now, you haven’t paid me. Get me a check for
ten grand, and you can take the cash back. You’ve got one more
chance.”

“Be fair. I can’t run around and scrape up
the money any other way right now. I’m stuck in here. Richie is a
life saver. I don’t want to piss him off.”

Sandy was now at the point where everything
the woman said sounded like a lie, “Margo, you’re still blocking
me. I’ve had it with you. I’m giving you twenty-four hours to
produce Richie.” She glanced at her watch. “I’ll expect him to show
up at my office before five tomorrow afternoon, or I’m notifying
the court that I’m no longer representing you. You’ll have lost a
damn good lawyer, and can sit in jail and rot. Got it?” She
gathered up her papers and left without saying another word to the
woman.

She sat parked at the jail a few minutes to
settle down and then phoned Martin to see if there was any more bad
news. “I just left Margo at the jail. I gave her an ultimatum. She
promised to have Richie show up at our office tomorrow. Don’t hold
your breath.”

“I’ve something new for you,” he said.
“You’re not driving are you?”

“Why, is it going to shock me off the
road?”

“No, I just didn’t want you driving while
using your phone.”

“Go ahead, Nanny, what do you have?”

“I checked at the office of the delivery
service. It’s a local company that has boys on bikes running items
around the city. The package was left for delivery by some dark
haired woman, medium height, thirty or so, sunglasses and a
scarf.”

“Name and address?”

“Phony and phony”

“An unidentified woman just leaves ten
thousand in an envelope and walks away? That has to be drug money.
That’s one of Richie’s disguised associates. Who wears sunglasses
and a scarf in Florida?”

“Cheating wives and Russian spies.”

She pulled out of the jail parking lot and
headed back to the office not believing for one minute that Margo
would suddenly begin cooperating. She had wanted to talk with this
Richie before the police came down on him and spooked him into
silence, no chance of that now. Let the cops locate the guy. She’d
wait about arguing it was Richie who left a horny message, not John
leaving a threat. Shapiro would laugh her out of his office over
that one. She’d wait and bring it up, when all this got to a plea
bargain stage.

Three miles down the road, she saw traffic
backed up at a light. As she slowed she intuitively glanced in the
rear view mirror to be certain the driver behind was alert to the
slowing traffic. The dark blue sedan that had been behind her had
pulled off to the side of the road.

The sedan would have been completely erased
from her mind except a few minutes later she noticed it had passed
enough cars to again be two cars behind her. And that’s where it
stayed, in spite of her speeding up, slowing down, and changing
lanes. She was now approaching Park Beach city limits. The police
station was on a parallel street only five blocks away.

When she made the second turn toward the
police station, the sedan turned off the opposite way. When it was
out of sight, she made a fast U-turn and went after it. Perhaps she
could get close enough to snap the tag with her smartphone. When
she caught up, the sedan slowed down and pulled to the curb. She
also pulled over and waited. The driver got out and looked back at
her. He was tall, slender, wore dark sunglasses, and looked
exceedingly normal in his dark business suit.

He walked quickly toward her. She kept the
engine running, and when the man reached into his coat pocket, she
put her car in gear. He pulled out a thin card case and held it out
at arm’s length in front of him.

It’s the feds, she said to herself. Her doors
had locked automatically, but just in case, she pressed the button
just to hear the loud comforting click. A badge and ID will set you
back merely ten bucks on the Internet, including shipping.

The man came to the driver’s side window and
pressed an FBI card against the glass. Without lowering the window,
she said, “You know, you can go to jail for impersonating an FBI
agent. Do those sunglasses come off?”

“I need to talk with you, Miss.” He removed
the sunglasses.

“I’d love to chat sometime. I’m in the book.”
She studied the card carefully, and then looked up at him. With
looks like that, he should be up on a movie screen. “Do you know
who I am?”

“I know who you are, all right. That’s why
I’m putting up with your bullshit.”

“Hey, you’re the one running the lousy tail
job, Agent...Jay Heppard,” she said reading his card.

“Let’s go back and see Mel Shapiro at the
courthouse. I’ll meet you in his office. We’ll talk there.”

It was enough. She lowered the window and
held out her hand. “Nice meeting you Jay. Where are you from?”

“West Palm office. Temporarily assigned to
Miami.”

“Why is the FBI interested in me?” He didn’t
answer, and the question remained on her mind as she followed him
to the courthouse.