J.D. Trafford - Michael Collins 02 - No Time to Die (9 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY

As they pulled up in front of the office, they knew something wasn’t right. The front door was wide open. It blew back and forth in the wind. Jane saw it first. She was out of the car before Michael could turn off the engine.

She surveyed the damage, unable to speak.

The window of the Community Immigrant Legal Services office was destroyed. Shards of glass laid on the sidewalk as if something in the office had exploded. Inside, tables and chairs were overturned, papers strewn on the floor. The file cabinets were tipped over. Jane’s computer and monitor were smashed into scattered pieces.

They walked through the open front door, slowly.

Glass popped underneath their feet.

They turned in a circle, looking. The entire office was trashed.

Along the back wall there was a message scrawled with red spray paint:

THANK YOU.

HATE TO SEE YOU GO.

LOVE—

THE ILLEGALS

Irony was always the trademark of the youngest generation.

“I’m going to kill those redneck kids.” Jane’s jaw clenched tight. Her days of relaxation were gone, as if they had never happened. All of the feelings she had during the final board meeting were back.

Michael put his hand on her shoulder.

“We can get this cleaned up.”

“
When?” Jane asked. “How? Look at this place. This isn’t just a shit-bag thrown at a window.”

“
I’ll call Kermit. He can help.” It sounded weak.

Jane pulled away from him.

“I should have been here. I should have been working. I shouldn’t have been with you. What was I thinking?”

Jane sat down on the floor, put her hands on her face and began to cry.

###

Funny thing about a small town like Jesser, people care more than one would think.

The first person to arrive was the minister from the First Baptist Church down the block. He’d driven past Jane’s office that morning on his way to the men’s breakfast at the Prairie Diner. He said that three of the men he had eaten breakfast with would be arriving shortly with garbage bags and tools.

About 20 minutes later, another truck pulled up with six Hispanic men in the back.

Kermit got out of the truck’s front cab with
Miggy. He clapped his hands.

“
Okay men. Let’s get started. Who’s got the plywood?”

Miggy
translated, and soon a large piece of plywood was lifted from the back and brought over to the broken window.

“
We gotta measure that sucker, and then, when everything is swept, we’ll put it over the broken window.
Comprende
?”

Miggy
translated and the men nodded their heads.

Within an hour, 50 other people were milling about. Somebody had brought a radio and music was playing. The music bridged the conversations and laughter.

A group of elderly women brought bread, meats, and cheeses for sandwiches along with three large boxes of classic ripple potato chips.

The pastor and another man set up a few of the office’s folding tables outside. One of the women spread out a red and white checked tablecloth on top of the table, while another unloaded a bag full of paper plates, napkins and plastic utensils. A large Tupperware container filled with sliced watermelon was placed next to the cold cuts and chips, and soon people were taking breaks, munching for awhile, and then getting back to work.

Jane stood off to the side. She directed the activity, determining what could be thrown away and what needed to be saved.

Michael walked over to her with a can of soda and a sandwich.

“For you.” He handed the plate to her, and Jane took it.

“
Thank you.” She took a bite without taking an eye off of all the people. “Can you believe this?”

Michael put his arm around her.

“Yes,” he said. “I totally can.”

###

“
Last thing to do.” Kermit stirred a bucket of white paint with a wooden stick. “Can you hand me a brush, Mr. Miggy?”

Miggy
nodded his head, and dutifully located a paintbrush in a corner filled with various buckets of cleaners and other supplies. He hobbled back on his crutch and handed the brush to Kermit.

Kermit dipped the brush into the bucket of paint, but Jane stopped him.

“Hold on,” she said. “I gotta do something first.” Jane gave a pixie smile and bounced over to her purse. She dug around and found her iPhone, which also happened to be the most valuable thing she owned.

Jane came back over to where Kermit and
Miggy stood.

“
Thanks,” she said. “And where’s Michael?”

Jane looked around as Michael came through the front door after dropping off the last group of volunteers and delivering the last batch of garbage to the dump. The party was over, and it was just him, Jane, Kermit and
Miggy.

“
What’s going on?” Michael asked. He had a six-pack of beer in his hand, and he raised them. “I got some cold ones.”

“
Perfect,” Kermit said. “Jane is recording this for posterity. But first we must toast.”

Kermit relieved Michael of his beer. They all smiled as Kermit dramatically unscrewed the caps on each bottle and distributed each one.

“Okay, Miss Jane,” Kermit said. “Let’s hear it.”

“
A speech?” Jane asked.

“
Of course,” Kermit said. “It was a great party.”

Jane smiled and nodded her head. She started to speak, but then stopped and slowly looked around the office. Eight hours earlier it had been a disaster, now it was cleaner than it had been in years. The floors were scrubbed. The files were alphabetized, boxed, and ready to be moved. And in many ways, Jane was ready to move too.

“This was a terrible day,” she said. “It started in the most horrific way. It was as if somebody was just trying to crush me, grind me into the ground. But I couldn’t think of a better way to end it. I wondered if anybody would notice if we were gone, whether I was the biggest chump in the world. Whether 10 years of my life had been wasted when I should have been earning money, starting a family, and paying off my student loans.” Jane took a deep breath, and then pointed her bottle of beer at the message painted along the back wall.

“
They really do thank me. They really will miss me. And that feels good.” Jane lifted her bottle higher. “To the illegals.”

“
To the illegals,” Michael, Kermit and Miggy parroted back.

Then everyone took a drink.

“God, that tastes good.” Jane took another sip. She set the bottle down on the floor. “I’m taking a picture of this before it’s painted over. I want to frame it.”

“
Here, here,” Kermit said, as Jane took a few pictures of the message that had been painted on the wall. It was intended to intimidate and mock, but it, instead, became an odd source of humor and inspiration.

THANK YOU.

HATE TO SEE YOU GO.

LOVE—

THE ILLEGALS

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Agent Frank
Vatch sat at his desk. He had converted the small second bedroom in his Hoboken apartment into a home office. Vatch flipped open his notebook and started reviewing his notes, and then he began writing additional thoughts about his time in Florida.

For years he had tracked Michael Collins, and he knew it was finally going to end. The attorneys had said that they were close to reaching a deal with some of the foreign banks where Michael had purportedly stashed Joshua
Krane’s money. Vatch’s supervisors wanted him to move on, but Vatch wouldn’t let it go. He wasn’t going to allow loose ends. He wanted Michael Collins. 

Vatch
looked at the framed picture of his dead partner, Agent Brenda Pastoura, on the corner of his desk. She was killed the same night Michael’s client Joshua Krane was murdered. The FBI had placed Krane under 24-hour surveillance, fearing that the corporate executive would run.

Late at night, they followed
Krane to the Bank of America building, watched him go inside, get the account numbers and passwords for Krane’s offshore back accounts, and then get back into the car with Michael. A few blocks later a man on foot fired on the car, and Agent Pastoura chased after him. There was no way he could help. Vatch’s wheelchair was in the trunk, and there wasn’t time. He radioed for back-up, but it was too late. In an alley two blocks away, both Agent Pastoura and the man who shot Joshua Krane were dead. Nobody ever found the account numbers.

There was a knock on the window.
Vatch looked away from the photograph, and saw Anthony on the fire escape.

“
Open up,” he said. Anthony knocked, again.

Vatch
rolled back from the desk.

“
A little late, isn’t it?” Vatch opened the window, and Anthony jumped inside.

“You really should start using the door,”
Vatch said, but Anthony didn’t respond.

Anthony pointed at the notebook on the desk. “Still working the case?”

“Always,” Vatch nodded.

Anthony smiled.

“You look tan,” he said. “How was Miami?”

“Okay,”
Vatch sighed.

“Any response from the subpoenas?”

“Still waiting,” Vatch said.

“You
gonna wait forever, huh?”

“Yes,”
Vatch said.

“
You want to play cribbage, then? While you wait?”

Vatch
looked at the clock. It was a quarter past eleven.

“Only if you let me win.”

Anthony smiled. Even though he was growing into a young man, his smile still revealed the boy inside.

“Never,” Anthony said. “If I let you win, it won’t mean anything. You
gotta earn it.”

Vatch
smiled and nodded.

“That’s exactly right.”   

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Father Pena led the way down the dusty streets of San Corana. The setting sun cast the small stone city in an orange light. The coffin of Tommy Estrada – covered with a finely pleated cream cloth – was held high.

Brass band music bounced off the mud walls around San
Corana’s city center as they marched. The air was thick with the smell of earth and sweet Copal, a ceremonial incense used for more than 500 years.

The processional wound through the narrow passages into the town center, and then out again toward the cemetery just on the edge of town.

Michael, Kermit and Jane were not last, but toward the back of the crowd. Elana, Pace and the other children were in front. Close friends and family were in the middle.

Michael hadn’t seen Jane since leaving
Jesser, about three weeks earlier. They had talked a few times while he had helped make the funeral arrangements. When the arrangements were final, Michael had wondered whether she would come. At first, she wouldn’t commit. Then, Jane arrived.

He watched her as they walked; Michael was happy she came. He wanted to spend time with her, but it wasn’t like Florida. Memories of
Andie were all around him. They competed with the present, pushing her away. He wasn’t sure if he could move on from Andie or even if he should.

A man tapped Michael’s shoulder. He pointed at his plastic bucket, showing Michael. Inside the bucket there were three bottles of
Mezcal tequila on ice. It was the Mexican equivalent of Kentucky moonshine. The man gave Michael a toothless grin, and then he filled a small plastic cup with Mezcal.

Michael took it. He emptied the cup with a swift throw back.

The man laughed as Michael cringed. The Mezcal was jet fuel, but it was tradition.

Men and woman alternated between cries of mourning and celebration. Mexicans had always embraced death as a part of life. There was nothing wrong with celebrating someone in the moments of loss.

Jane took a plastic cup full of tequila. Kermit took two. Jane smiled at Michael, and he smiled back as the funeral parade progressed.

###

After the procession, Catholic service, and interment, Michael and Jane were finally alone together. The sun had set, and a dark cool had settled along the shore. During the day, the sky above the Mayan Riviera was arching and vast, but at night, the sky seemed to lower itself, creating a more intimate space. Even with others strolling along the beach, it was easy to feel close. 

They sat out on the Point, a narrow streak of rocks that curved out into the Caribbean. It was Michael’s favorite place at the resort.

He laid a thick blanket down on the rocks. Jane laid down on top of it.

“Having a good time?” he asked.

Jane nodded her head, cloudy from the shots of
Mezcal.

“
As much fun as an unemployed lawyer can have at a funeral.”

“
You’re not setting a particularly high bar.” Michael sat down behind her. He kissed Jane’s neck. He teased her, trying to make Jane admit that she liked it. “Come on,” he said. “Tell me you love this place.” He kissed her neck some more.

“
Okay,” Jane said in her best lawyer-voice. “I’ll stipulate to the sole fact that this is a lot more fun than an unemployed lawyer usually has at a funeral. Agreed?”

“
Agreed,” Michael said.

Jane pushed away from him, laughing.

“Now please stop molesting me.”

Michael kissed her one more time, and then rolled onto his back.

He looked up at the night sky.

“
I’d like to get lost up there.” Michael stared at the stars, making constellations of his own design. “Any interest in staying for awhile? Maybe you could push your return flight out a bit.”

Jane didn’t respond for a long time.

“I don’t know.” She took in a deep breath, thinking. Then she said, “What’s not to love about this? But I’m not sure what
this
is.”

Jane turned and looked at Michael. Her eyes softened.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way. I don’t even know how I mean it. I just don’t know.”

“
I don’t know either.” Michael was honest. He really didn’t know, and Michael left it at that. Jane didn’t push, either.

She stared up at the sky. They watched the stars together, tracked the satellites moving above them, and listened to the waves fall on the beach.

“You know I got a job offer?” Jane said after awhile.

“
No,” Michael said. “When?”

“
Just after you left.” Jane sat up a little. She rolled her shoulders, letting some of the tension out. “I got a call from Legal Aid in Los Angeles. Doing the same thing I was doing in Jesser – working with immigrant farm workers – but with more support and a little better salary.”

“
Sounds good,” Michael said. “But …”

“
But …” Jane answered. “I don’t know. I feel like I committed myself to Jesser. The way it ended,” Jane paused. “It didn’t end the way it’s supposed to. The bad guys got away. We know Jolly Boy did it, but nobody –”

“
So go back,” Michael said.

Jane shook her head.

“I can’t. How?”

“
I don’t know.” Michael sat up and started looking at the smooth rocks all around him. “Maybe you just need a break to think about your next move.” Michael stopped looking. He found a rock and skipped it into the water. “Everybody needs a break.” Michael found another rock and skipped it, thinking. “But I’m not like you. I never wanted to right wrongs and fight for justice.”

Jane leaned over and whispered in Michael’s ear.

“I think you’re lying.”

She kissed him on the lips.

When Michael didn’t say anything, she did it again, a little harder.

“
Okay, maybe you’re right. Maybe I had a little fire for justice,” Michael said, laughing. “Now please stop molesting me.”

Jane grabbed his crotch and gave it a squeeze.

“You wish.”