The attorney general looked a little flustered. He glanced at Newton, Frost, and Tyndall. I had mentioned something he didn’t want to answer.
“Mr. Holmes,” he replied, “the officers gathered up several people, not all were charged. A few were witnesses cooperating with our investigation. We ask that you use those photos very carefully.”
I didn’t let up. “Do you consider McKee and Rantz the leaders of this operation?”
“Yes, but we do expect more arrests in the upcoming days,” said Gore. “We’ve only begun questioning the men and women arrested today.”
The other reporters stared at me. I had made it clear I knew more than them about this. They didn’t like being scooped. Tyndall wasn’t happy either.
As I walked out, a Florida Department of Law Enforcement agent stopped me.
“Mr. Gore would like to meet with you tomorrow,” he said as he handed me a business card. “He will be here the rest of the week.”
“My attorney will contact his office,” I said. Gravy wasn’t going to like getting another phone call about me.
Frost pounced on me, dragging me into a hall away from everyone else. Towering over me, standing inches from my face, he whispered, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
His breath smelled of cigarettes and coffee. I stepped into him, stood as tall as I could. “My job.”
The sheriff stepped back. He looked like he wanted to throw a punch. I braced myself.
“You’ve blamed me for your brother’s death,” I said, matching his temper. “We know he was caught up in this porn mess. They were blackmailing him.”
Frost grabbed my arm and pulled me into an empty office. “You print anything about Amos and this shit, and I’ll sue you. I’ll own your paper and your ass.”
Slightly bigger than a closet, the room had a desk, phone, and two chairs. The court system probably used the windowless room for interviews or temporary workspace. If Frost wanted to pound me, no one would see it.
“Your brother came to you for help,” I said. “You left him out to dry. You could have prevented the suicide, and you know it.”
That took the air out of him. “You think you have it all figured out. You don’t understand crap and can’t prove anything.”
I said, “Not yet, but somebody always talks.”
“Not in this case,” said Frost as he straightened his tie and smoothed the lapels of his jacket. His voice was calmer. “Besides, what purpose will it serve? Other than destroying the name of a good officer. My brother wasn’t perfect, but he did a lot of good in this community. Anything you publish will hurt his wife and children, not me.”
Words eluded me. No quick, snappy comebacks came to mind. I stood staring at the sheriff.
“Holmes, you are such a hard-ass. Your personal feuds are leaving a trail of dead bodies, and you stand there not giving a damn about anyone or anything other than your crappy little newspaper.”
“There’s nothing personal about any of this,” I retorted. “It’s about the truth.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” said Frost. “Repeat it in front of a mirror over and over again, and maybe you will start to sound convincing.”
I began, “You—”
But Frost cut me off and jabbed his bony finger into my chest. “Tell it to Amos’s wife and sons. Tell it to Bo Hines. You aren’t from here. You don’t understand how things work in Pensacola, and you have to be stopped. There have been too many casualties.”
I knocked the sheriff’s hand away. “We will continue to report the news.”
“Not for much longer,” said Frost as he headed out of the room.
I sat down in the chair and stared at the drab gray walls. Had I fallen into the Pensacola trap and let grudges drive my reporting? Was I any better than Frost, Wittman, or Tatum?
As I walked back to the Insider office, Bree called.
27
“Walker, Mal told me that Monte Tatum had been arrested for child porn,” she said. “Is it true?”
This wasn’t a conversation I needed right then. We had a paper to get out. “Tatum wasn’t included in the press conference, even though Ted and Mal saw him at Central Booking this morning.”
Bree’s voice trembled. She was about to cry. “What does that mean? The bastard gets off free?”
“I don’t know, Bree. Give me a couple of hours to get my paper out and sort through this. You around tonight?”
“Yes, I’m going to a lecture at the library. Should be free about eight.”
“Text me when it’s over. We can meet at Hops or Intermission.”
Back at the office, I called a quick staff meeting to fill them in on the specifics. The absence of Tatum’s name on the arrest list surprised Mal and Teddy. Mal’s face showed that she felt a little guilty that she had said anything to Bree.
“You saw the photos,” she said. “They perp-walked Tatum.”
“Yeah, but we don’t know for what,” I said. “Listen, we will hold Tatum’s photo. We’ll get answers soon. First, I need to finish the article.”
Mal said, “That’s the only piece we’re waiting on. Once I send the pages to the printer, Teddy and I are going to bug out. Our day started early.”
“No problem.”
The article on Operation Cherry Bomb went smoothly. I put on my headphones and listened to Norwegian composer Edvard Grieg’s piano concertos. I didn’t need any more words in my head.
Once Mal sent off all the pages to the printer, she and Teddy left. I texted Tyndall to see if he could meet for drinks. We agreed to meet away from downtown. Tyndall suggested Satchmo’s, an old club on the west side that opened at four o’clock but didn’t have many customers until seven.
Satchmo’s had been around since World War II. It’s where the African-American veterans congregated when they came home to a segregated Pensacola and had evolved into the unofficial American Legion hall for the black community.
The blue cinder block building had no windows and a purple door. I wasn’t sure it even had a back door. The
