“Yeah, about a year; mostly going to lunches and holding hands with community leaders. It was the longest year of my life.”
“You ever come across a Reverend John Waldo?”
Jocko furrowed his brow, thought a minute. He slowly began to nod his head. “Yeah, I remember him. He ran a small store-front church on Alternate 19, just up from Gulf to Bay, back about twenty years ago. As I remember it, the Scientologists wanted the property-that’s back when they were buying up as much land as they could get in Clearwater, and Waldo and his little church really cashed in. I don’t know what happened to him after that.”
“He built a bigger church-a real big one-up on Keystone Road, not far from the Hillsborough County line.”
“I’m not surprised. The Scientologists were paying top dollar. And they usually got what they wanted. Hell, they ended up with that whole area of downtown.”
“You ever come across his son, Bobby Joe Waldo?”
Jocko stared off, thinking again. “I don’t think so. He have a sheet?”
Harry nodded.
“You think he and his old man are tied into this Beckett murder?”
“I do. I’m not sure exactly how, though my gut tells me they’re in there somewhere. But I’m all alone in that. Right now everybody else who’s working the case is looking hard at somebody else.”
“Who?”
Harry told him.
Jocko sat at the table shaking his head. “That’s bullshit. I know Nick Benevuto. He worked for Clearwater P.D. before he jointed the sheriff’s department. The man’s a complete ass but he would never do that. Even if he was banging her and got pissed off because she was stepping out on him, there were a dozen ways he could have set her up. And there are plenty of guys who would have busted her for him. Hell, we all know how easy it is to violate a parolee or probationer. And the way the media was all over that woman, even a hint that she was out of line and she would have found herself dodging bull dykes in the shower at county jail.” He forked some rice and beans into his mouth and continued to talk around it. “Your theory about those ministers makes a lot more sense to me.”
They talked about the Reverend Waldos, father and son, as they finished their meal. It had been more than a month since Harry had eaten one of Maria Doyle’s Cuban dinners and he wolfed down two platefuls. When he finished he found Jocko grinning at him.
“What?”
“I was just thinking how happy Maria is gonna be when I tell her how much you enjoyed your dinner. It won’t be long before she has me back here with another care package.”
“Care packages are always welcome.”
Jocko smiled again, but the smile slowly faded. He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Let’s talk about your mother and what’s going to happen over the next few weeks.” He paused. “Or better yet, what you want to happen.”
Harry stared at him and for a moment Jocko saw the small boy he had taken into his home all those years ago.
The moment drew out. Finally, Harry spoke. “All I know is that I don’t want her out. I don’t want her to be part of my life again. I don’t want to have to deal with her every day, or every week, or every month.”
“If she goes up for parole, and gets it, you could ask the parole board to make that a condition… that she not have any contact with you… and if she tries, that it violates her parole and she goes back into the slam.”
Harry began to slowly shake his head. He stared down at the table. “Every year, on the anniversary of… of what she did… I go to the cemetery where Jimmy’s buried and I tell him that she’s still inside… and then… then I promise him that I’ll make sure she stays there.” Harry did not tell him that he also went to the prison, but he suspected that Jocko knew.
“If that’s what you want then you’re going to have to fight for it. You’re going to have to request to be heard before the parole board, and you’re going to have to present a case, with evidence, that she shouldn’t be released. But remember, you’ll probably have doctors-shrinks who’ve treated her-saying she’s not a danger to you or anyone else, so you’re going to have to make a pretty strong case.” He paused. “And she’ll be there too, Harry. And I wouldn’t put it past her to try to steal the show by telling you how sorry she is and how much she needs your forgiveness.”
Harry’s eyes hardened. “She won’t steal anything. I have her letters. The ones she’s written to me every year. And all of them, every single, fucking one,” he hesitated to take a deep breath, “say how glad she is that Jimmy is with Jesus, and how she wishes I was there too.” He shook his head. “The woman’s just as crazy as she ever was, and if she ever gets out it won’t surprise me to wake up one night and find her standing over my goddamn bed with a butcher’s knife in her hand.” Harry’s fists clenched tightly. “And what am I supposed to do then? Grab my gun and send her straight to hell where she belongs?”
Jocko reached across the table and covered one of Harry’s fists with a large hand. The boy said he didn’t want her to be part of his life anymore. Not for a day, or a week, or a month. But she was already there, just as strongly as if she were standing in the room with them right now.
Jocko sat back and stared across the table at his adopted son. “Over the years she wrote to Maria several times, and a couple of times to me. For the life of me, I don’t know how she ever found out who we were. Foster care and adoption records are supposed to be secret. But crazy people always seem to be able to find those things out.”
Harry sat up straight in his chair. “You never told me that she wrote to you too.”
“I know. Maria and I talked about it, and we decided the letters you got from her were enough, more than enough. We saw what they did to you and we didn’t want to add to it.” He raised a hand and let it fall back to the table. “The letters she sent to us, well, they were crazy letters, Harry, and over the years they never got any better. I don’t see how anybody can say that woman is ready to be out on the streets again. If you want, Maria and I will appeal to the parole board too. We can add our letters to the ones you have.”
Harry stared at him. “What did her letters say?”
“Mostly, that we’d have to pay someday for what we did.”
“And what was that?”
Jocko stared at the tabletop and then raised his eyes back to Harry’s. “That we kept you from Jesus.”
Harry leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “You think the parole board will listen to any of us?”
“They’ll listen. I’ll make sure of it. Whether they hear us or not
… well, that’s another matter.”
Harry nodded and took a moment to think about it. “I appreciate the offer. I’ll let you know what I decide to do.”
Jocko stood, walked to Harry’s side of the table, cupped his head with one hand, and pulled him against his chest. “I gotta go,” he said. “Maria will be waiting for a full report on how you look, how you feel, whether you are wearing nice clothes, whether there’s any sign of a woman at your house, and how much of her food you ate.”
Harry laughed. “Make sure you tell her my socks were clean.”
“I will.” Jocko paused. “Are they?”
“Yeah, they are.”
“Good. I hate to lie to her. Whenever I try, she knows.”
“Yeah, I remember. Sometimes it was spooky how she always seemed to know when I wasn’t telling her the complete truth.”
“It’s not just Maria. It’s a woman thing,” Jocko said. “They’re wonderful, but they’re also scary as hell.”
Jocko stepped out the front door and headed toward the sidewalk. The air was thick with tropical warmth, cut by a light but steady wind coming in off the gulf. Above, the sky was already dotted with stars and a crescent moon hung over the water in the shape of a cat’s smile. As he reached the sidewalk, Jocko sensed movement on the other side of the street, and when he looked he saw a head and shoulders slip down in the driver’s seat of a parked car.
He stopped and stared at the car, and as he did it lurched forward, cut into a sharp U-turn, and drove away. Fifty yards down the street it turned right on Mandalay Avenue and he could hear the engine rev as it sped away.
