The Widow, page 22
For two hours each afternoon, the inmates were allowed into the Pit, a break room with a television, pool table, checker boards, and plenty of old magazines. Simon was making new friends right and left, most of them duly impressed because they’d never had a lawyer in their midst. A few wanted legal advice, but were disappointed when he claimed to know nothing but bankruptcy law. He was playing checkers with Loomis late Tuesday afternoon when a guard said he had a phone call. He was certain it was his mother with good news and hurried to the front. It was not his mother. A familiar voice said, “So, you’ve finally found your rightful place, huh Latch?”
“Hello, Spade. It’s almost good to hear your voice.”
“Got yourself in a jam, huh?”
“You could say that.”
“I just did. Look, is anyone listening to this call?”
In Spade’s world someone was always listening or wearing a wire. Simon thought the calls were secure but wasn’t sure. He said, “Of course not. It’s unconstitutional to listen to inmates’ calls.”
“And you believe that? Listen, Chub called this morning. His joint is closed for renovations, but he’s around and is somewhat concerned. He’s seen the papers, called me, asked me to say hello.”
“I’m touched.”
“You should be. Look, Chub thinks it was you who got the Fibbies to back off. Don’t know if that’s true, but you gave him the heads-up and he left town. Now it looks like the investigation has lost steam, you know? He’s wondering if there’s any way to help.”
“Damned right. He could loan me twenty thousand bucks for my bail.”
“Twenty thousand. Wow.”
Twenty thousand was nothing to Chub. “Tell Chub I’ll pay it all back when I sell my office building. Every penny.”
“He likes you, for some reason. Thinks you’re a stand-up guy.”
“Well, I am, in spite of my current situation. Better yet, tell Chub I’ll sell him my building at a fair price, clear just enough to get me out of here. He likes real estate.”
“That he does. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks Spade.”
“I’ll call back tomorrow.”
* * *
Tillie arrived later in the afternoon and they were allowed to meet in the attorney conference room. She brought a printout of their current bankruptcy cases and a schedule of his upcoming court appearances. Even if he made bail and was free to move around, he could not imagine walking into any courtroom for even a routine matter.
After a few minutes, she became emotional. “What’s going to happen to you, Simon?” she asked. “I can’t believe this.”
He thought for a moment and said, “I honestly don’t know, Tillie. Looks like I’ll be forced to sell everything to get out of here, and that’s only the beginning. A trial will be months away. Who knows what happens then. I can’t think of any reason to be optimistic in the short term.”
“So, the practice gets shut down?”
“Probably. Even if I keep the building it will be impossible to do business. My name is dirt around town. I don’t even want to ask what you’re hearing.”
“Nothing good.”
“Everyone thinks I’m guilty, right?”
She nodded as she bit her lip. She wiped her eyes and said, “It’s awful. I’m afraid to go anywhere near the office.”
“Don’t go there.”
“I want to leave town but where do I go?” She began sobbing and her hands were shaking. “I’m sorry. I promised myself I wouldn’t do this.”
In their twelve years together, he had seen her cry only twice, both times in the past month. They had never allowed themselves to become close, primarily because she had been hurt by other men.
She swallowed hard and said, “So, I guess I should start looking for another job.”
“Not so fast. Let’s get through this week, see if I can spring myself. We’ll work together and try to clean up the files. I need you right now, Tillie.”
She managed a smile and said, “Okay.”
* * *
No calls were allowed after 6 P.M., but Simon was desperate to get out and the guards knew it. He needed to call his mother, and the jailer eventually said yes. He waited until 8 P.M., hoping, of course, that she would call him. When she did not, he dialed the number. Arn answered with a gruff “Hello.”
Neither was in the mood for friendly chitchat. When his mother said hello her voice was shaky. Then she barked at Arn, who was apparently standing close by. “Can I have some privacy, please?” A few seconds passed and a door slammed.
“He won’t do it,” she said. “I’ve tried everything, Simon, I really have. We’ve fought and fought and right now I can’t stand him. I’m so sorry, but the money is tied up in joint accounts. Pretty stupid, right, but he’s always controlled the money. I would give you all of it if I could. I’m so sorry.”
Simon listened with his eyes closed. His own mother and stepfather wouldn’t bail him out of jail.
“I’m going to leave him, Simon, I swear. This time I’m going to leave him. I’m fed up with him.”
“Come on, Mom. Settle down. I’ll be all right.” The idea of his mother walking out and starting over at the age of seventy-three was hard to grasp, but, at the moment, he really couldn’t blame her.
“No, I mean it, Simon. This is the last straw. I’ve put at least eighty thousand dollars in CDs and it’s my money. He has no right to control it.”
Eighty thousand sounded like a million. “Mom, take a deep breath. Go for a long ride in your car. Let the moment pass.”
“I’m so sorry, Simon. I’ll keep trying.”
“I love you, Mom. I’ll see you soon, and I’ll get this mess cleared up, okay?”
“I love you too, and I’m so sorry.”
Simon followed the guard back to his cell, stretched out on his bed, and tried to read. Hours later he was still awake, wondering if he’d caused another divorce.
Chapter 38
Neither Chub nor Spade would ever voluntarily go near a jail, so the details were left to the law offices of Raymond Lassiter, with assistance from Matilda. Chub was in an expansive mood and attacking the new year with enthusiasm, now that the FBI had lost interest. He had big plans to expand his clubs and holdings and rely less on bookmaking. Being investigated by the Feds was a sobering experience. He had collected far too many legitimate assets to worry about a lengthy prison sentence.
On Thursday, Chub agreed to buy Simon’s Main Street office building for $41,000 more than the mortgages. It was a straightforward deal without a lot of paperwork, but the banks took their time, as always. Chub also agreed to allow Simon to continue using the office for six months, at no charge. Simon was thrilled with the deal and also relieved not to be homeless.
The money changed hands Friday morning and Simon said goodbye to Loomis. A week after walking into the jail, Simon walked out a free man, for the moment anyway. The chief offered to drive him to his office, but Simon did not want to be seen in another police car. He hustled away on foot, avoiding the busier streets, and even took an alley. His car was where he had parked it, nothing disturbed. He sat at his desk for a long time, taking deep breaths and reminding himself that he had just survived seven nights in jail. He had toughed it out, made the best of it, even made some friends and had some laughs. Prison would present more of a challenge, but he would worry about that later. What he really wanted was a cheeseburger and some fries. Since he wouldn’t dare show his face in a café, he drove to a Wendy’s and used the drive-thru. He ate at his desk while his cell phone charged.
After lunch, he began calling people. His mother, Paula, Tillie, Raymond, Chub, and Spade. With reluctance, he opened his laptop, stayed away from the news and social media, and read emails. There were hundreds of them, most from friends, acquaintances, and clients, all wishing him well and offering encouragement, but there were also quite a few from idiots he’d never heard of, all wishing him a painful death. He counted twenty-seven emails from reporters. On the whole, it was a depressing exercise.
At 2 P.M., as scheduled, he drove to Raymond’s office and parked in the rear, something he would be doing from then on. As usual, Raymond was red-faced and puffy-eyed from another long night, but he was wide awake and bickering with his secretaries.
He growled at Simon, “You hungry? I need some lunch.”
The burger and fries had been tasty and filling, but after a week of starvation he could eat some more. “Sure.”
“I’ll send one of the girls for sandwiches. You should stay away from the downtown joints for a while.”
Simon wasn’t looking for advice but held his tongue. He handed Raymond an envelope.
“What’s this?”
“A promissory note for one hundred ninety thousand. And a check for the other ten.”
“I wasn’t expecting this.”
“You said your fee was two hundred thousand for a first-degree murder case. I’ll pay you when I can.”
Raymond smiled and put the envelope on his desk. “We have a lot of work to do.”
“I know.”
* * *
At 4 P.M. Friday afternoon, the Cupit & Moke hearse stopped at a maroon and gold burial tent over an open grave at Eternal Springs Cemetery. Four paid pallbearers hauled the faux wooden casket to the tent where a handful of friends and neighbors waited in the cold. Doris, still banged up, struggled with her new walker. Jerry Korsak dutifully represented the family but introduced himself to no one. A rent-a-priest went through the motions, said a prayer, read some Holy Scripture, said another prayer, and tossed some dirt on the casket of a woman he had never met.
Eleanor Barnett was finally laid to rest, intact.
* * *
Leaving Braxton behind had never been so exhilarating. He could almost taste and smell the freedom. He refused to look in his rearview mirror. No one was back there.
After seven nights as a prisoner, Simon had made the firm decision that he would never again be locked up. If his streak of bad luck continued, and if he were one day faced with a lengthy sentence, he would either head for Brazil or jump off a bridge.
He pondered such things for two hours as the miles flew by. It was dark when he turned into the driveway on the western edge of Richmond. He braced himself and rang the doorbell. The door swung open, and all three kids grabbed him with bear hugs. There were tears and more hugs as they settled on a sofa in the den. Paula was gracious enough to peck him on the cheek and say, “Good to see you.” Her parents had stepped out for a long dinner, so the little Latch family could be alone. When things settled down, Simon got right to the point. He said that he was not guilty, that he would never harm another person unless in self-defense, that he had grown close to Netty and had nothing to do with her death. He had a good lawyer, the best in town, and they were confident they would prevail. He did not know who poisoned Netty but they were putting together a list of suspects. The police had stopped their investigation when he was arrested, as they always do, so it was up to him and his lawyer to find the killer. In spite of their efforts, his case would move forward and one day soon he would probably be put on trial.
Buck and Danny had a dozen questions. Janie snuggled under her father’s arm and just listened. They were in new schools in the Richmond district and struggling to adjust. Paula was desperately looking for another job, one outside Braxton. There was no way she was staying there and subjecting the children to more humiliation.
The pizza arrived and they gathered around a coffee table for dinner. Buck found an old western on cable and the kids grew quieter as they watched it and ate. After an hour, Simon and Paula bundled up and went outside. As they walked down the street, she asked, “So how was jail?” They both chuckled.
“Not that bad.”
“No gangs, no violence, great food.”
“All of the above. The chief runs a clean operation, but I’m not going back. Seven days is my max.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“How long are you staying here?”
“Not long. The bad thing about living with your parents after twenty years is that you are suddenly faced with all the quirks you had forgotten, and the quirks are far more bothersome now. I guess we forget the bad and hold on to the good. We love our parents and want them to be well-rounded people, but sometimes they don’t measure up.”
Simon had never considered her parents to be well-rounded. He said, “My mom’s filing for divorce.”
“She should’ve left Arn years ago.”
“No, she should never have married him in the first place. He caught her on the rebound, a bad one. The final straw was all about money. She had the money in the bank to help me get out of jail, but the accounts are in both names. She couldn’t touch it and he said no. Kept saying no. She issued an ultimatum, then walked out.”
“I’m proud of her.”
“She always liked you.”
“Let’s talk about something else.”
They turned onto another street and ambled along. He asked, “What are your plans?”
“I’m scrambling, Simon, as you might guess. I can’t stay here. The kids are in new schools because they have to be in school, right? But they’re about to get yanked around again when I find a job.”
“No way you’re going home?”
“Absolutely not. I’m not sure you realize how bad things are these days, Simon. The press has thoroughly smeared you. Hungry lawyer seduces rich widow then poisons her. You can’t find three people in Braxton who believe otherwise.”
“You were always blunt.”
“Maybe you need some bluntness.”
“No, I don’t. I know it’s bad, believe me. Where are you going?”
“I don’t know. I’m on the phone and computer all day looking for a job and there are some prospects.”
They walked for a long time in silence, until they were cold. When his car was in sight she said, “It’s almost ten. My parents will be home in a minute. You want to say hello?”
“I’ll do it tomorrow. Okay if I take the kids out for pancakes?”
“They would like that.”
* * *
He checked into a Hyatt near the campus of VCU and went straight to the bar. Landy was waiting in a dark booth, the perfect spot for a little rendezvous. He had called her on the drive down. She had been expecting another lonely Friday night, with hubby stalking some bad guys in Florida.
They talked about him for a minute or two. She broke the news that she and her husband had agreed, on Christmas Day no less, to split and peacefully go their separate ways. There was nothing left of the marriage, and, thankfully, no children to fight over.
Then they went through the jail talk. As a veteran FBI agent who threw people into jail, she was curious about what it was like in there. Simon downplayed it and refused to whine.
“We’re talking confidentially, okay Landy? You’re not an agent right now and I’m not a lawyer. Just two old friends.”
“Friends and lovers,” she said with a wicked grin.
His heart fluttered but he controlled himself. He gave her the facts as he knew them. The autopsy results, the toxicology reports, his visits to the hospital, the visits of others, or those he knew of. He mentioned a few names of his top suspects and described both his will and Wally’s.
After they ordered second drinks, Simon said, “I need your help. I didn’t do the crime, okay?”
“I know that, Simon. I didn’t believe it the first time I heard it.”
“Thank you. I didn’t do it, but someone did. Someone laced the ginger cookies with thallium. Have you ever heard of thallium?”
“Maybe, somewhere during training.”
“Anyway, I have to dig and I need your help. As far as the police are concerned the investigation is over. They have their man. They’ve closed their case file and given it to the prosecutor. Just like that.”
“I’m not sure about this, Simon. We are strictly prohibited from any sideline work. We can’t moonlight. We have more than enough cases of our own.”
“I get that, but you’ve got to help me track down the poison. I don’t have the money to hire a private investigator, nor does my lawyer. Hell, I’m barely paying him. I’ll do the snooping around Braxton—the hospital, the nurses, the orderlies, the janitors, the florists. I can handle that part of the investigation, but I can’t find the source to thallium without help. It’s been banned in this country for thirty years. Where did it come from and how do you get it?”
She said, reluctantly, “Let me think about it.”
The drinks arrived. She sipped wine and he gulped beer.
With a smile she asked, “Want to talk about our divorces?”
“Please.”
“Good. After you called, I took a long hot bath, shaved my legs, picked the skimpiest lingerie I own, and dressed for the evening.”
“You look great.”
“Wait till you see the lingerie. We’re going up to your room now, Simon, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”
“Who’s saying no?”
Chapter 39
Raymond convinced Judge Pointer to skip a formal arraignment and allow Simon to enter a not-guilty plea on paper. It was a formality anyway, and given the throng that showed up for the simple bail hearing, Raymond preferred to avoid the attention. The not-guilty plea was recorded, and Commonwealth of Virginia v. Simon F. Latch entered the docket. Simon and Raymond agreed that there was no benefit in stalling and decided to request a speedy trial, the speedier the better. Cora Cook was not in a position to object. As the chief prosecutor, it was important for her to aggressively go after the criminals. She had, after all, ramrodded the indictment through the grand jury, then asked for a huge bond in an effort to keep Simon in jail. She could never show weakness, not that she was inclined to anyway. The voters expected nothing less. She agreed to fast-track the case, and joined the defense in a motion to place it on what was informally known as the “rocket docket.” Judge Pointer was happy to accommodate both sides and set a trial date of May 23.
