“I’m late for court. I don’t-”
“May I borrow the mirrored makeup compact in your purse?”
“How’d you know I carry one?”
“Lucky guess.” O’Brien smiled,
“Okay, I suppose.”
She opened her purse. “Just take it.”
“Thank you. If you can afford to wait thirty seconds, I’ll hand it right back.”
O’Brien took the compact, opened it, and angled the mirror so the sun would reflect through the slots in the gutter near the bucket. He dropped to his knees, trying to peer through the grates. He moved the mirror slowly, like a small searchlight in the dark. He saw loose nails, a dime, leaves, and something the color of polished brass near a leaf. “Dan, would you get a coat hanger out of the back of the Jeep?”
The woman watched as Dan got the coat hanger out and handed it to O’Brien. He untwisted the hanger, fashioned a small hook, stuck it into the grate, and carefully lifted the shell casing up from the dark. O’Brien stood, the casing winking like gold in the sunlight. “Hand me an evidence bag,” he said. As he dropped the casing into the bag he said, “. 303, British Springfield. Sometimes you get lucky at ring toss.”
EIGHTY-FIVE
After O’Brien dropped Dan Grant off at the sheriff’s office, he placed a call to Florida State Prison at Starke. He was transferred three times and finally got the deputy assistant warden on the phone.
“Mr. O’Brien, I understand you’re on the approved call list. But each call has to be accepted by Charlie Williams. It’s not up to us…who he talks to.”
“I understand that. Can you get him to a phone?”
“Not a question of getting him to a phone, it’s getting a phone to Williams.”
“What do you mean?”
“Governor’s signed William’s death warrant. He’s moved from his cell on death row to a deathwatch status. Which means he’s down to extremely limited phone calls.”
“He still can speak with his attorney, right?”
“Are you his legal counsel?”
“I’m on his legal team.”
Here was an audible sigh. The assistant deputy warden said, “Guess we’re gonna have to install a phone in Williams’ cell. Media types are callin.’ CNN, ABC, CBS, NBC, you name it.”
“I understand your frustrations. Part of the state system in Florida is due process up until an inmate is in fact executed. No one wants an innocent man to go to his grave.”
“Gimme your number. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you.”
O’Brien drove east on I-4 and took it to Highway 46 toward U.S. 1 and Ponce Inlet. His cell rang. It was Detective Ron Hamilton.
“Tucker Houston’s the right guy for Charlie Williams,” said Hamilton.
“For Williams’ sake, I hope so. His other attorney sort of resigned after having all his petitions for a new trial denied.”
“Sean, it might not be anything, but since you mentioned somebody was popping Alexandria full of heroin… something came up in a conversation I had with Joe Torres. Joe’s working drugs and gangs in the area now. Torres was talking with Todd Jefferies, DEA. Jefferies was the lead investigator in the coke bust that sent Russo away. Jefferies worked with the FBI on that, and the one agent who’s chief of the Miami office.”
“Who’s that?”
“Mike Chambers. I’ve met him. He’s fairly aloof. Typical bureau. Other special agent was Christian Manerou, seems to be a stand-up kinda of guy. Anyway, although Todd Jefferies and the rest of the feds popped Russo on the coke charges, they’d found two kilos of pure uncut heroin in the pallet disguised as swimming pool chemicals. Jefferies told Torres that it was suspected to be the icing on a cake for a deal done between some Miami crime families with the New York mob. The heroin was found hidden at the bottom of the coke pile, all disguised as powdered chlorine. Russo, in a plea bargain, said he suspected the uncut stuff was “hidden” there by an unknown courier as a partial payoff for a mob hit. The trigger man was a lowlife called The Coyote, AKA, Carlos Salazar.”
“What happened to the heroin?”
“Jefferies says it came up missing.”
“Missing?”
“Somewhere between photographing the stuff, weighing, tagging and bagging…and being tucked away in evidence storage, it was lost, probably stolen. This meant the heroin charges against Russo were dropped.”
“I don’t see how the DEA can lose evidence, or was it the FBI?”
“Don’t know that we can blame the feds for this. The heroin was being stored in Dade County SO, locked away in their secure evidence vaults near an area where they keep the confiscated drug planes, cigarette boats and whatnot. Jefferies says he suspects one of the Miami mob families associated with Russo had somebody inside, offered a hundred grand to drop the stuff in a canal out back. Let the gators have a heroin fix. Anyway, don’t know if it can ever be traced to Alexandria Cole, especially now, but I thought I’d mention it.”
O’Brien was silent.
“You still there?” asked Hamilton
“Yeah, I’m still here. Just thinking. Did Jefferies say which FBI agent, Mike Chambers or Christian Manerou, played the bigger role in the investigation?”
“No, why?”
“Nothing yet. Would you ask him how things were divvied up during that case?”
“You mean between Chambers and Manerou, who was running the show.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, speaking of the feds, Lauren Miles had a break-in at her house.”
“Is she okay?”
“Yeah, she wasn’t home. Somebody walked off with her DVD player and a pearl ring. She’d called me about the Sixth Street Gym. She wants to work a co-op stakeout with Miami P.D. Surveillance cameras, the whole nine yards, to try and catch these freaks in the act of staging one of their kill matches. The Irish guy has a rap sheet that, if you included ‘references,’ would connect him to a few of Florida’s finest hate groups.”
O’Brien saw an incoming call with a 352 area code. The area code service for Starke and the Florida Sate Prison. He disconnected with Hamilton and answered.
“Mr. O’Brien?”
“Yes.”
“I got Charlie Williams standin’ here. You can have three minutes.”
O’Brien waited a few seconds and Charlie Williams came on the line, “Hello.”
“Charlie, it’s Sean O’Brien. I wanted you to know that I’m close-very close to finding out who killed Alexandria. Did you know Alexandria was addicted to heroin?”
“I suspected she was on something real bad ‘cause her moods changed so much.”
“But she never admitted it?”
“Not directly, she just told me to stay the hell away because she said there were people that would take me out quick and they’d never find my body.”
“But she didn’t say what people or what person?”
“No. She was scared shitless. That’s why I was tryin’ to get her outta there.”
“I understand, Charlie.”
“I’m thankful for what you’re doin’. That lawyer, Mr. Houston, is real helpful. He’s doin’ what he can to throw a wrench into this thing.”
“He’s the best. I just want you to hang in there, Charlie. Don’t give up hope.”
