“Okay. I’m up north. I’ll swing down that way, too.”
“I’ll look for you,” Fowler said. “Poppy’s notifying everyone to keep an eye out for him.”
“Good.”
“Chief?” Fowler asked.
“Yeah.”
“You don’t think he ran across these guys do you? Got all sideways with them?”
“I hope not.”
CHAPTER 43
The plan was that while Cassie and her crew searched for the elusive SUV and canvassed as many cabins as they could, Cain and Harper would dig into the two that Jason said supplied the late Tommy Finley with drugs. Dalton and Jessie whoever. The earlier drizzle had morphed into a full-on rain. According to Harper’s weather app a storm brewed to the west and was headed their way. This was the leading edge it seemed.
They grabbed some coffee at Spivey’s and were now sitting in the parking lot, watching people dart in and out of the coffee shop, umbrellas deployed. Harper called Mama B and gave her the names—Dalton and Jessie, adding that they were probably embedded in the Memphis drug world.
“Last names?” Mama B asked.
“Don’t know.”
“You aren’t making this easy.”
Cain laughed. “Somehow I think you’ll manage.”
Mama B agreed, said she’d have something soon. Of course she would.
“The guy in the coffee shop?” Harper said. “Simon Greene? The attorney?”
“Weird, huh?” Cain said.
“I swear I thought he was that guy over in Georgia.”
“Me, too,” Cain said. “Of course I realized that the dude in Georgia would’ve aged a couple of decades by now so he wouldn’t look the same. Still, the similarity was unnerving.”
Harper nodded. “Made my heart bounce a couple of times.”
“What was that town? Where he lived?”
“Dahlonega.”
“Yeah. Cute place.”
“And profitable.”
Cain smiled. “That it was.”
Cain cranked up The Rig and pulled from the lot.
“I had an odd feeling about him,” Harper said. “Not just because he looked like Mr. Georgia.”
“It was the gold Rolex,” Cain said.
“Yeah, that must be it. My memory is you snagged a couple of them that day.”
“And some jewelry and cash.”
“I don’t know,” Harper said, “Greene seemed shady to me.”
“He’s an attorney. They’re all shady.”
“No argument there.”
Cain waited for a woman, three kids bouncing in the backseat, to make a left turn, then proceeded down Main Street. “He’s connected with Tommy Finley. Maybe Jason, too.”
“We going to have a chat with him?” Harper asked.
“We are.”
Simon Greene’s office was in a residential setting. A red brick house, corner lot, a block off Main. Neat, with white trim. A sign that hung above the front door, white with black lettering, indicated this was the office of “Simon Greene, Esq., Attorney At Law.” Inside, the small waiting room was empty. A pleasant receptionist said Mr. Greene was with a client but should be finished “soon.” They sat and waited.
Ten minutes later, Greene appeared. He escorted a middle-aged woman to the door, holding it open for her, adding that he’d call her when whatever documents she needed were ready. He then smiled and welcomed Cain and Harper. They followed him to his office. Also, small and neat. A large window to the right, the left and rear walls filled with thick law books.
“What can I do for you?” Greene asked as he sat behind his desk.
“A few questions about Tommy Finley.”
He gave a half-nod. “I could invoke lawyer-client privilege, but given the circumstances I’m not inclined to stand on protocol.”
“We’d appreciate it,” Harper said. “You defended him on distribution charges.”
“Yes. Also possession a couple of times. Those were misdemeanors so no big deal.”
“He could afford you?” Cain asked.
Greene smiled. “It was more or less pro bono.”
“Generous,” Harper said.
“Tommy wasn’t big on saving money. He spent his ill-gotten gains on stupid stuff.”
“So, he was guilty?”
Greene folded his hands on the desktop. “Of course he was. Doesn’t mean he didn’t deserve an effective defense.”
“And it was effective, true?” Cain asked.
“It was.”
“What made him a candidate for pro bono work?” Harper asked.
“Tommy wasn’t a bad kid. Screwed up, but not bad.”
“Just dealt drugs?”
“It wasn’t like he was a kingpin or anything like that. Very small time.” He smiled. His teeth were perfect. “Besides, his parents were clients and good people. They were at wit’s end with Tommy. They tried though. Did everything they could for him, but like so many his age, he thought he was smarter than they were.”
Cain nodded. “A common disease.”
“It was more a favor for his parents than anything.”
“In your discovery, did you run across his suppliers?” Cain asked.
Greene hesitated, as if deciding how to answer. “No. He never told me.”
“Ever hear the names Dalton or Jessie?” Harper asked.
Another hesitation. “Not that I recall. Who are they?”
“According to Jason Epps, they were the ones who supplied Tommy. Might be from Memphis.”
Greene shook his head. “Don’t know anything about that.” He opened his palms, flashed that perfect smile. “Like I said, Tommy wasn’t very forthcoming with that kind of information.”
“But, you asked?”
“I did. Told him that one approach would be to give them up. Maybe the judge would go easy on him if he did.”
“The judge went easy anyway?” Harper said.
“After Tommy agreed to a treatment program and some community service.”
“Did he do that?”
“Mostly. I think he spent a few weeks in counseling and did most of his hours over at the park, picking up trash.”
“The park where he did business?” Harper said.
Greene shrugged but said nothing.
“What about Jason?” Cain said. “You ever represent him?”
“No. Never had to.” He lifted a cuff and glanced at his gold Rolex. “I have to head out for a meeting. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“No. Thanks for your time.”
Greene stood. “Sorry I couldn’t help more.”
CHAPTER 44
Buck worked on his second bowl of soup. Jessie had opened several cans he found in the pantry—vegetable beef and tomato—and heated the mixture in an over-sized pot. They sat at the table while they ate the concoction along with saltine crackers. Buck wolfed down the first bowl but took his time with the second. Not that he was all that hungry but he knew calories might be the advantage he needed. Not much of one, though. If he was going
