J.D. Trafford - Michael Collins 02 - No Time to Die (3 page)

CHAPTER FIVE

Her name was Jane Nance. Her “office” was on Main Street, and it was as neglected and sad as every other building on Main Street.

About 20 years ago, things had been different. Back then, Main Street was the center of activity and the pride of
Jesser. Things changed when big agricultural companies started buying all of the farmland in Collier County. It was terrible farmland. It was sandy and devoid of nutrients, but that didn’t matter. The agricultural companies had developed special seeds that would grow almost anywhere, and they pumped the dirt full of chemicals to guarantee a crop. Now, 60 percent of the tomatoes eaten in the United States were grown in Collier County.

Thousands of immigrant workers – some legal, most not – came to
Jesser to work in the fields. Jesser’s growth prompted Wal-Mart and Home Depot to open mega-stores along the highway. Other chains opened next to the big boxes, and soon people stopped coming downtown. Local shops began to close. The Chamber of Commerce called it “progress.”  

Michael and Kermit parked behind Jane and got out. The faded,
hand painted sign above the door said, “Community Immigrant Legal Services, Inc.”

Sitting next to the door was a homeless Mexican man, folded on top of himself. When Jane fished the key out of her purse, he heard the jingle. His eyes opened.

“Miss Nance,” he said. “Got to talk to you.”

Jane put the key in the door, unlocking it.

“I can’t right now.” She looked at Michael and Kermit, and then back at the homeless man. His name was Miguel, but everybody knew him as Miggy. “I’ve got to talk with these two men, but I’ll make some time for you later.”

“
It’s important.” Miggy picked up his crutch and pulled himself up. “I seen more spirits.”

“
I know it’s important.” Jane nodded. She put her keys back in her purse, and then got out her wallet. She removed a crumpled five-dollar bill and gave it to Miggy. “Get yourself some dinner, and we’ll talk later, okay?”

“
Tonight?” Miggy asked.

“
Not tonight.” Jane shook her head, and then put her hand on his shoulder. “Soon.”

Miggy
nodded, disappointed, but happy about the money in his hand.

“
Soon,” he said, and then he hobbled away.

They watched
Miggy until he got to the end of the block.

“
He’s one of our biggest clients,” Jane said, smiling. Opening the door, Jane added, “A nice man, just struggles.”

Jane went inside and Michael and Kermit followed.

It was just one large room with desks in each corner, and three folding tables strung together in the middle as a makeshift conference table. The tops of the tables were piled high with files and other documents.

Jane gestured toward them, while walking past.

“There’s a method to our madness, but it’s best to ignore it all. Pretend this is a paperless office.” She continued toward a desk in the far corner.

The desk in the far corner was also piled high with files. On the wall above the files, Jane had stuck yellow sticky notes with various scribbles ranging from “to-do” lists to court dates to contact names.

“We have a couple of
pro bono
attorneys from Fort Myers who drive over once or twice a month to help out. Then there’s an attorney from Miami who also shows up off and on. He’s atoning for the sins of his corporate overlords.”

Jane thought for a moment.

“We might also occasionally get a recent law grad that scraped together some foundation money to work here for a year.” She sat down. “But mostly … it’s just me.”

She gave a little smile and a small laugh, signs of resignation.

When she tilted her head, the light from the window hit her face in a soft light. Michael noticed how pretty she was; tired, but pretty.

Her skin was naturally light, but her cheeks were kissed by the sun. Her nose was delicate, and her features were sharp.

Kermit was watching, too. He noticed how Michael’s demeanor changed, and Kermit kept it mellow. He wasn’t going to ruin whatever was happening, especially if it meant Michael would stop yelling at him.

###

“
So, we went out to the trailers on Green Haven. That’s the address where Tommy’s son said his dad was living.” Michael grabbed one of the chairs from the conference table and rolled it closer to Jane. He sat down. “But we got arrested before we could figure out if he even lived there. It wasn’t at all like what –”

“
Tommy had told the family back home.” Jane completed Michael’s thought. She shook her head, knowingly. “Let me guess.” She pointed one finger in the air. “A swimming pool.” Then Jane pointed the second finger in the air, “and a weight room.”

“
Something like that,” Michael said.

“
Pretty typical. I don’t quite understand it.” Jane paused, thought, and then corrected herself. “Well, maybe that’s not accurate. I do understand it, but I’m not sure who they think they’re fooling. Everybody knows why they’re coming and what they’re doing. They’re modern slaves. It’s been going on for a long time, but perhaps pretending makes it easier, makes the sacrifices easier.”

“
Do you know where Tommy is?”

“
No.” Jane slid a stack of files closer to her from the side of the desk, and then picked up a folded newspaper article that had been underneath the files. “Read this and you’ll understand why I wish I did.”

###

Holding an actual piece of newspaper printed on real paper was a small shock. Michael had forgotten the feel. At the Sunset he was isolated from the tabloids and 24/7 cable news shout-fests. Seeing the article, Michael remembered how loud everything was in the United States. So-called news reporting, to the extent there was any, had no subtlety.

The article was about four months old and took up half the page. Another quarter of the page featured a picture of Tommy Estrada. He held a large poster above his head along with a half-dozen other workers. The headline across the top of the page read: WORKERS RALLY FOR BETTER CONDITIONS.

Underneath, the article summarized an organizing campaign.

The article talked about unsafe conditions in the fields and unsanitary conditions where the workers were housed. There were also multiple quotes from Jane Nance, Supervising Attorney and Director of Community Immigrant Legal Services, Inc.

“
We were supposed to have a meeting to negotiate with Jolly Boy this week. Tommy was our lead representative.” Jane tensed. “I honestly don’t know how we can do it without Tommy. Tommy was a leader. He was a little older than the others, and the workers looked up to him.”

Michael nodded, although he had never really met Tommy. Most of his interactions were with Pace and sometimes Tommy’s wife,
Elana. But Michael knew that Pace was a leader. It was a skill he had probably inherited from his dad.

Michael handed the article back to Jane.

“His family thinks he might be sick, but they didn’t know any details.”

Jane nodded, considering whether to trust Michael and Kermit.

“He was dying,” she said, eventually. Jane placed the newspaper article back on her desk.  “He had cancer.”

“
The big C.” Kermit looked up at the ceiling, drifting away in his own thoughts.

“
I took him to a free clinic in Miami and got the diagnosis,” Jane said. “We talked about whether he should go home, but Tommy said his family needed the money and he wanted to work.” She looked away. “That’s when he also decided to fight. He wanted to improve the conditions of the workers, and we were making some progress. Then he disappeared.”

Jane looked at the picture of Tommy holding the sign.

“I was kind of hoping he had gone home, but now you’re here looking for him.” She shook her head.

“
We’ll figure out what to do.” Michael knew he sounded silly as soon as he heard himself say it. He had no idea what to do. But before he could recover, a loud, rusted pickup truck stopped in front of the office.

There were three young white kids in the front, and another four in the open back of the truck. All of them were drinking. Music blasted from the truck’s aftermarket speakers, and the driver revved the engine.

Kermit, Michael, and Jane turned, trying to figure out what they were yelling.

One of the boys in the back stood up. He had a short, military-style haircut, although he was way too young to be in the military. 

He narrowed his eyes and pinched his lips together in concentration. Then his arm cocked back. He threw a paper bag at the office’s large plate-glass window.

It hit with a thud.

The bag broke and a brown mass of feces ran down the window.

Kermit, Michael and Jane sat frozen. Before any of them could move, the truck sped away with the horn sounding, “Dixie,” like the General Lee in the old “Dukes of
Hazzard” television show.

“
You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Michael said.

“
Welcome to the other Florida.” Jane looked up at the faded and peeling paint on the ceiling. She closed her eyes, almost ready to cry. “If you’re looking for retirees, South Beach and Disney World, you’ve got the wrong one. This part of Florida is still fighting the Civil War.”

Kermit stood. He clapped his hands together.

“Time to find a bar, yo.”

CHAPTER SIX

The bar was about a half-mile from downtown, but clearly a part of “old” Jesser. Jane said it was a safe place to talk.

As they drove, Jane narrated the local landmarks. The businesses and the people they saw quickly fell into one of three categories. Either they were friends, enemies or enablers.

Jane was most frustrated with the enablers. These were people who lived their lives ignorant of what was happening to the workers in the fields and who were comfortable taking money from anybody who had it.

“
They just don’t care. They just want a lot of stuff as cheaply as possible.”

Jane stopped rambling about systems and hierarchy. She pointed at a squat, concrete building with a gravel parking lot.

“But these folks are friends,” she said, directing Michael to turn.

Michael drove into the lot, parked, and they got out.

The cinderblock building was a bar. It had a few small windows, with lighted signs for Bud and Coors. Metal bars stretched over each; it was unclear whether they were keeping people out or keeping people in.

On the top of the building, there was a rusted neon sign with a flashing arrow designating the site as, ‘The Box Bar.’  Michael looked at the sign, then at the building.

“Aptly named.”

They started walking toward the door, and Michael felt his stomach growl. The sun was setting and he realized that he hadn’t really eaten anything all day.

“Does this place have food?”

“
Sort of,” Jane said. “Greasy food, beer, and free popcorn.” 

Michael nodded.

“Perfect.”

As they walked inside the front door, a stream of light cut through the darkness, and then disappeared as soon as the door closed. The regulars had already found their places at the bar. They were settled in for the night and didn’t really give them a second look.

“There’s my little Janie!” A large Hispanic man with a ponytail emerged from the kitchen. “We’ve been missing you.” He walked over to them and gave Jane a big hug. He stepped back. “Who are your friends?”

Michael extended his hand.

“I’m Michael Collins and this is Kermit Guillardo.” The man pushed Michael’s hand to the side. He wrapped his arms around Michael and lifted him into the air.

“
I’m Tyco,” he laughed. “Handshakes are for the suits.” Tyco set Michael down, and stepped back. “Here at the Box, friends are family, and family don’t shake hands like we got poles up our asses.”

Kermit laughed.

“I like this big
hombre
.” Kermit pushed past Michael, and then he wrapped Tyco in a giant bear hug. “Let us begin our brotherhood,
mi amigo
.” 

###

They sat around a table in the back and shared a basket of salty popcorn and a pitcher of beer. Before the waitress made it to the table to take their food order, Michael asked, “You mentioned negotiations?”

Jane just shook her head.

“
Doomed and probably cancelled. I’ve got a message from their lawyer, but I don’t want to return his call.” She stopped tracing the edge of her glass with her finger, picked it up, and finished her beer. “I was counting on those, too. We’re running out of money, haven’t had a grant in two years, and I was hoping to show funders that we were actually doing some good.”

Jane made eye contact with the waitress, and the waitress started waddling over to the table.

“Another round?” the waitress asked.

Jane nodded, and then the waitress poured the remaining beer in their glasses, evenly distributing what was left in the pitcher.

“Food?”

She took their orders, writing code on her pad of paper. Then she turned and waddled back to the bar to place their order.

Jane ate a few pieces of popcorn and then continued talking.

“
With Tommy gone, rumors are starting to circulate,” she said. “A lot of people think that Jolly Boy farms had him deported, and I had thought that maybe he just went home, sick. Now I don’t know what happened to him.”

“
That doesn’t sound like doom.” Michael tried to be comforting. “You still have others for the negotiations.” Michael thought about the newspaper article. “What about the other protesters in that picture?”

Jane shook her head.

“They’re spooked. Some of them already left town. Some are preparing to leave town. If you get deported, come back and then get caught, you could go to federal prison. None of them want that.”

Jane started to continue, stopped herself, and then she lowered her voice.

“Then there’s the big rumor,” Jane paused, “that Jolly Boy had Tommy killed.”

###

The waitress kept bringing drinks until the mood loosened. Eventually Kermit revealed Michael’s most well-known secret.

“Dude’s a lawyer,” he said. “Can you believe it?”

Jane looked at Michael, smiling.

“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t believe it.”

Michael didn’t say anything. What was there to say? It was too complicated to explain. Instead, he focused on drinking the remaining liquid in his bottle.

Kermit prattled on.

“
Big time. The dude was big time. I seen him work his legal voodoo, pretty impressive.” Kermit stuffed a handful of popcorn in his mouth. “My bro cleans up real good. He could sue those Jolly Boy bastards.”

Jane started to laugh, and Michael raised his hand.

“Enough,” he said. “I’m retired.”

Kermit shook his head.

“My man’s not retired.”

“
I’m retired,” Michael insisted, raising his bottle and his voice. Michael placed his other hand over his heart, taking a new oath. “No more suits, neither lawsuits nor navy pin-stripe suits. This I do pledge.” He was only in Jesser to find out what happened to Tommy Estrada, and that was it.

###

Conversation wound around to lighter topics.
Eventually Tyco rang a bell at the corner of the bar and flashed the lights. The patrons groaned.

They settled their bills, and then Michael, Kermit and Jane stumbled out into the parking lot.

It was dark. The sky stretched above them. No tall buildings or bright lights were there to break the night apart.

Hundreds of stars dotted the sky, and crickets rubbed away in the background.

“You got a place to stay?” Jane put an arm around Michael.

“
We’ll find a hotel.” Michael unlocked the rental SUV, and slid Jane into the backseat. “But we’ll get you home first.”

“
You’re not going to take advantage of me?”

“
Not tonight.” Michael shut the door and walked around to the other side.

Before Michael opened the driver’s side door, Kermit stopped Michael.

“You know I’m no expert in the female species,” he nodded toward Jane. “But I think she wants you to take advantage of her, bro.”

“
I said, ‘not tonight.’” Michael smiled, although it was a sad smile. His thoughts went back home to Hut No. 7 and, of course, Andie Larone.

###

They got two rooms at the Stay-Rite Motel. In
Jesser, it was the “fancy” motel, because it had an outdoor pool. The Stay-Rite was also considered to be “new,” because it was built in 1978. The other motel had been built in 1959.

The motel had two levels with an outdoor staircase and walkway. The clerk wanted to give Michael and Kermit rooms on the second level, but Michael insisted on the first floor. Even tired and somewhat intoxicated, he was still thinking about an escape.

Michael handed his credit card to the clerk. She ran it through the machine, and then she handed it back to Michael along with the keys. No further words or pleasantries were exchanged. Everybody just wanted to go to bed.

Michael looked down at the numbers on the keys. He handed one key to Kermit as they walked out the door.

“Must be this way.” Michael turned and followed the numbers. “You need your stuff out of the car?”

Kermit shook his head as they walked.

“I sleep all natural, baby, and that’s what I intend to do.”

A little further down the walkway, Michael pointed at a door.

“Well, this is you. See you in the morning.”

“
Bright and early, boss.” Kermit stuck his key in the lock, opened the door, and disappeared inside.

Michael walked to the next door. He started to put his key in the lock, but hesitated as he turned it.

There was a window next to the door. He looked at the reflection.

He saw the parking lot and the street, and then a dark blue Ford Taurus.  Michael continued to open the door, while still looking at the reflection. He watched the Taurus slow, just a bit, as it continued past the motel.