The Advocate (The Advocate Series) (20 page)

“That’s too dangerous, Joe. He’s already tried to kill you once. What’s to keep him from completing the job?”

“You got a better idea?”

“Let’s see what we can find out about Bill for starters.”

When Joe returned to the office, instead of a greeting of sympathy for his accident, he met with discontent. No one asked him what happened or inquired about his well-being; instead, they hardly spoke to him.

He got one of the clerks to confide in him. The rumor going around the office was that Joe falsely accused another cop of something. The clerk didn’t know the identity of the cop, and no one seemed to care.

Bill was way ahead of him. He knew if he started a rumor about Joe, it would ruin any opportunity he had to get information. He wouldn’t dare ask questions about anyone within the department.

After work, Brett called Joe and they met in a state park, where no one would see them. “I’m sorry, man, about what’s going on at the department. I hope you realize why I let them think we weren’t working together.”

“No need to apologize. I trust you. You’re in a difficult situation. If you side with me, you will be ostracized, too, and nothing will be gained from that. So, just let everyone think you’re unhappy having me as a partner. You’ll still be suspect for awhile, but you may hear something that’ll help,” Joe said.

“Well, one thing for sure, it’s got to be Davis. It was pretty clever of him to start the rumors.”

“Yeah, it really ties our hands. Any ideas where to go from here?”

“I say we hit the streets and find out what’s out there. They always know the bad cops before we do.”

“Good idea. And,” Joe said, “thanks for sticking by me.”

“I know you’d do the same for me. So, let’s get to it.”

They spent the rest of the evening trying to find out anything and everything they could about Bill Davis. Most of their investigation led to dead ends, until they came across “Action Jackson” dressed in a cheap, navy blue pin-stripe suit, a pink, ruffled shirt, three heavy gold chains, and a top hat, and carrying an oak cane with an enormous fake emerald on the tip. After some cajoling, a little cash, and the “good cop, bad cop” routine Brett and Joe played so well, they burrowed some information out of him.

“So what do you know about Bill Davis that we don’t know?” Joe asked.

“His money goes back to the streets.”

“Drugs?”

“No, he wouldn’t touch that stuff. No, he’s a gambling man.”

“Poker?”

“Nope. He’s the worst kind – bets on sports, especially the races. He really likes the ponies, and he bets heavy on them. A few years ago he got in way over his head with the creditors, both the banks and the street sharks. He was about to file bankruptcy, which was the least of his worries. The word was out he was a dead man if he didn’t come up with the money for the sharks. Then suddenly he was cleared for more loans, and he kept his house and all.”

“Did he win big on the ponies or something?” Joe asked.

“Nope. That’s the kind of event ‘Action Jackson’ would know about,” he said with conviction. “I know every big bet and big win that goes down. It’s my job to know. No, he found another way to clear his debt and he’s still walking, so some kind of deal was cut.”

“You said a few years ago. Do you know when it happened?”

“Five, six years, maybe,” Jackson responded.

“And you have no idea how he got the money, or how he paid his debts?”

“Nope, and don’t care much, either. It’s my job to know what bets go down and who wins and who loses. If the ‘marks’ find another way to pay their debts, it’s their business. That’s about all I know.” Jackson clicked his heels, did a little soft shoe, tipped his hat, turned, and strolled away. Every thirty feet or so, he did his little dance again until he vanished out of sight.

Brett started after him, but Joe stopped him, “Let him go. He doesn’t know anything else. Even if he did, he won’t talk any more once he starts dancing.”

Joe and Brett drove back to Joe’s house to pick up a few things. Brett had convinced him to stay at his house at least for the night. Joe shook his head and sighed when he walked into the shambles someone had made of his home. He turned chairs back on their feet as he walked through. He walked over to his answering machine and discovered three new messages.

He hit the button to play them. “Call your mother. She needs to know her baby is okay.” Joe smiled and shook his head. The second message was a computer sales pitch; Joe hit the erase key. The third was his FBI friend who said, “This is Howie from Dallas. I tried your cell phone, but got no answer. Please call me first chance you get.”

Joe checked to see when the call came in. The machine said, “Friday, 9:13 a.m.” He looked at his watch and murmured, “It’s too late to call him now.”

“Who’s that?” Brett asked.

“A friend of mine, FBI Agent Howie Martin. I think I may have told you about him. Back in my rookie days, I stumbled into a mess and ended up saving his life. He feels like he owes me, so he was more than glad to help me out when I called. I found a phone number in Steve’s stuff on the Sterling-Murdock case. He’s checking it out for me. It may be nothing, but he’s going to see who it belonged to back then. He’s also going to see what he can find out about Bill Davis for me. He knows not to call me at the office. I’ll call him first thing in the morning.”

20

After Sabre met with Bob at Clara’s Kitchen for their usual Thursday morning
tête-à-tête
, she went to court, completed her morning calendar, and afterwards, drove to see Alexis at Jordan Receiving Home. She hadn’t seen her since the incident with the bat. Alexis smiled when she saw Sabre and greeted her with her usual, “Good afternoon, Miss Sabre.”

“Hello, Alexis. You look lovely, as usual.” Alexis always looked so tidy and well dressed, though the Jordan staff told her Alexis was quite the little athlete. When she played, she played hard and got as dirty as the rest of them, but she always insisted on appearing “proper” when she “received visitors.”

Alexis appeared to be happy to see Sabre. Although she started right in with her chatter about the staff members and the other children, she acted a little more subdued than usual. Sabre put her arm around her; the little girl felt fragile. “I’m so sorry about the incident at my office with the bat. But you know what?”

“What?”

“You were so brave. I’m so proud of you. Who knows how long I would’ve lain there before someone found me, if you hadn’t taken charge and called for the help I needed.” She gave Alexis a little squeeze. She felt Alexis stand up a little taller, and watched her face light up.

“Thank you,” Alexis said. With a devilish little smirk she added, “Does this mean you’re not mad at me anymore for leaving Jordan without permission?”

“Of course I’m not mad at you. You just scared me because you could’ve been hurt. There are lots of scary things out there.”

“I know,” Alexis responded.

“Please promise me you’ll never do it again. Okay?”

“Okay. Next time I’ll call you and you can come pick me up,” she said with confidence.

“Deal,” Sabre said, reaching her hand out. Alexis took it in hers and shook on it.

Alexis’ mood seemed to lighten and her exuberance returned as they continued with their visit. She reported all of the Jordan Receiving Home gossip. She knew about every staff member and each and every minor in the Home, what they did and didn’t do, down to the smallest detail.

Sabre visited with her for awhile before she broached the subject of her mother’s disappearance. “Alexis, I need to ask you some things that may be painful for you, but I really need to know. Do you think you can help me?”

“Probably.”

“Do you remember the day your mom disappeared?”

“Nope,” she said quickly. Then she added, “I just remember she used to play with me and read to me a lot. And then one day she wasn’t there anymore.”

Alexis looked so sad. Maybe she didn’t remember anything about that day. So, Sabre let it drop and finished her visit, with Alexis continuing her account of the Jordan Receiving Home news. As she listened, Sabre continued to be amazed at the intelligence and maturity of the ten-year-old girl.

When Sabre got into her car to leave, she felt the car leaning to one side. She stepped out, walked around to the back. The rear tire on the passenger side was flat. Sabre, frustrated, hated inconveniences. She much preferred to deal with a major crisis, for which she had an abundance of patience. Little things like this annoyed her. She removed her cell phone from her bag and dialed the number for the Auto Club. They informed her the wait would be about forty-five minutes. Sabre walked over to a bench at a bus stop about twenty feet from her car, sat down, and called Bob.

“I’m close,” he said. “I’ll be right there.”

Within ten minutes, Bob arrived. He parked two car lengths behind Sabre’s car on the same side of the street and walked to where she waited. “Thanks for coming,” Sabre said.

“No problem. I was driving back to my office from court when you called. I had just stopped to buy a pack of cigarettes at my little corner store.” Bob took a drag off his cigarette as he walked over to the car to look at the tire. “Aren’t these new tires?”

“Yeah, I got them about a month ago. Remember? You were with me when I first went to look for them. I went back the next day and bought them.”

“You must’ve picked up a nail or something.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Bob looked at the tire, feeling it with both hands, the cigarette hanging from his mouth, smoke seeping out. “I don’t see or feel anything, but that doesn’t mean much. They’ll check it when they get here.” Bob took another drag off the cigarette, dropped it on the ground, and stepped on it. Sabre cocked her head, raised her eyebrow, and frowned at Bob. He reached down, picked up the cigarette butt, and carried it with him as they walked back to the bench.

The tow truck took close to an hour before it arrived. The driver, a thin wiry man with mechanic’s hands, stepped out of the truck. He checked Sabre’s card and did the necessary paperwork. He put air in the tire and checked for leaks. “I don’t see anything wrong with the tire. It could’ve been a slow leak, but I don’t feel any air coming out anywhere.”

“So I can drive on it okay?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s fine. I’d take it back in where you bought it and have it checked, but it looks to me as though someone let the air out.”

Sabre’s heart lurched. She looked at Bob and caught a glimpse of the worrisome look on his face. “Probably some kid walking by, who just decided to have some fun at someone else’s expense,” she said, in an attempt to reassure herself.

It may have convinced the tow truck driver, but Bob didn’t look satisfied, and neither was she. “I don’t like it,” Bob said. “There are just too many strange things happening to you.”

“But nothing that can’t be explained. It’s not as if someone has shot at me or mugged me.”

“No, but they may as well if they’re going to scare you or annoy you to death.”

“We don’t even know for sure about the tire. I’ll have it checked tomorrow.” Sabre dismissed any thought of sabotage. She signed the paperwork, thanked the tow truck driver, and said, “Come on, Bob. Let’s get out of here.”

“Where are we going?”

“I need to go to the office for a little while, and then I’m going home.”

“Are you sure you won’t reconsider going to JP’s place to stay?”

“No. I’ll be fine,” Sabre said, still refusing to be run out of her home. “Thanks so much for coming by to wait with me.” She gave Bob a little hug and asked, “Where are you going now?”

“Back to my office. I’ll be there for a couple of hours. Just call me if you need me.” Bob walked with Sabre to the driver’s side of her car. She got in and started the engine. The window open, Bob put his hand on the door, tapped with his finger, and said, “Lock your doors.” She hit the lock button, the click sounding especially loud.

Sabre drove off, anxious to get to the office. She had wasted too much time today, and she already lagged in her work due to the hospital stay.

Elaine and Jack were still at the office when she arrived. She spoke with them briefly before going into her office. She had a multitude of phone calls to return and cases to prepare for court, so she buried herself in her files and tried to forget about everything else. When she came across a fax from the Atlanta Police Department, she called to Elaine, “What’s this?”

“Oh, that came the other day. I thought you already saw it. It’s the mystery page–page eight–from Peggy Smith’s file. Remember, we couldn’t read the one we had? This one is much clearer.”

“Good, I must have missed it before. Thanks.”

“I’m sorry. I thought you’d already seen it.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not a problem,” Sabre said.

“Okay. I’m about to leave. Is there anything you need before I go?”

“No thanks. You have a good evening. See you tomorrow.”

Sabre dialed the number for Detective Carriage’s office. His voice mail answered. She left a message for him to call her at home that night or in the early morning. She tried his cell phone, but it went directly to voice mail. “That’s odd.” She made a mental note to call his office in the morning. After putting the form inside the Murdock/Smith file, she placed it in the stack of things she planned to work on the next day, and resumed work on the cases she’d been neglecting because of her concentration on the Murdock case.