“How did she hurt her leg?” I ask. Tara has a plate in her leg, which was always a mystery to me. The operation would have been expensive, and I don’t often see shelter dogs that had received such good care. It’s inconsistent for an owner to spend that kind of money on a pet, and then to throw them away like that.
“I’ll let Noah tell you all that; he knows all the details. Will you at least meet with him?”
I look over at Laurie, but she’s not providing any relief. “Becky, I’m really sorry about your situation. And I’m sure your husband is innocent, but-”
She interrupts me. “He says he did it.”
The surprises are coming in rapid-fire here. “He does? Is that how he’s going to plead?”
“I’m not sure what he’ll do. But he didn’t do it, Andy. No matter what he says.”
I nod, trying to digest this. It doesn’t sound like it will go to trial, so Galloway’s lawyer might simply be called upon to plea-bargain. Less time, less effort, but I still don’t want to get near it. We’re talking about twenty-six people locked in a burning building.
“He says he did it, but you say he didn’t?” I ask, my incredulity showing.
“He believes he did it; he doesn’t specifically remember it. But there is no chance that he did.”
“How do you know that?”
“Could you believe Laurie burned twenty-six people to death?”
“No.” I could point out that I wouldn’t believe Laurie spent years strung out on drugs either, but I don’t. I just want this to go away.
“Maybe I could speak with him, maybe with Hike,” Laurie volunteers. “And get some more information, to help you decide.”
Laurie’s talking about the other lawyer in my two-person firm, “Hike” Lynch. I’m sure Laurie is aware that I’ve already decided against getting involved, so her saying that means she’s on Becky’s side in this one. Or at the very least she’s saying, what’s the harm in talking to the guy?
Of course, there is no harm in it, other than the disappointment Becky would feel when I tell her I’m not taking the case. “Becky, if it means that much to you I’ll talk to him. But I want to be really clear; I don’t want to take on any new clients.”
“I understand,” she says.
“I can recommend other lawyers that are terrific.”
She nods. “Let’s talk after you and Noah meet.”
I turn to Tara. “That work for you?”
She doesn’t answer, remaining her normal noncommittal self. I’ll have to ply her with biscuits to find out what she really thinks.
These guys did what they said they would do.
That’s a pretty terrific quality, Danny figured, especially when it belonged to guys who promised to pay him money.
The morning after Noah Galloway was arrested, Loney was at his apartment with the payment of the other fifty thousand, again in cash. He was alone this time, without Camby.
Danny had decided that while he might strong-arm them with threats to reveal their role to the police, there was no hurry for that. The trial was a long way off, and he could come forward at any time before then.
Loney did throw him a bit of a curve ball, though. The job as driver for him and his family was still his for the asking, but it was in Vegas, not New Jersey. That was where Loney was going to be for at least the next six months, and the increased cost of living that Danny would face there would be recognized with an increase of twenty thousand in the agreed-upon salary.
This was getting better all the time. Danny had only been to Vegas once, almost fifteen years ago. On his thirtieth birthday. It probably would qualify as his favorite place on earth, but it was a city you didn’t want to be in if you had no money.
Which was okay, because Danny had plenty of money.
Loney gave Danny a plane ticket, one way, to leave that night. The fact that it was a coach fare was slightly annoying, but at least it was an aisle seat.
“You can leave tonight?” Loney asked.
Danny smiled and made a hand motion to show Loney the room he was standing in. “Why not?”
Loney said that a car would pick Danny up at five o’clock, to take him to Newark for the eight o’clock flight. “Don’t get too comfortable out there,” he said. “You’re coming back here for the trial.”
“No problem. One day on the stand is all it will take.”
Loney nodded. “But that’s an important day. We’re going to rehearse you for it.”
“Piece of cake,” Danny said. “So when I get there, where do I go?”
“A driver will take you to the Mirage; you’ve got a prepaid reservation there for two weeks. During that time you’re going to need to get an apartment.”
Danny said that he thought that was a really good idea, though at that point apartment hunting was the last thing on his mind. He had a hundred grand and two weeks at the Mirage, and he was going to enjoy every minute of it.
“Don’t blow this, Danny,” Loney said, possibly reading his mind.
“You don’t need to worry about me,” Danny said.
“Okay. See you in Vegas.”
“You going to be there?”
Loney smiled. “See you in Vegas.”
“Who are you guys?” Danny asked. “Come on, level with me.”
“Concerned citizens.”
“Connected concerned citizens?”
Loney didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. Danny was smart enough to know that these guys were not people to mess with, and he immediately discarded the idea of holding them up for more money. Instead he was going to make himself indispensable to them, until they brought him into the club.
The flight out to Vegas was pretty comfortable, considering Danny was in coach. The seat next to him was empty, and Danny utilized the tray in front of the empty seat to rest his bloody marys. He had six of them, and only stopped when the good-looking flight attendant told him he had had enough.
He could have told her there was never enough.
A driver met Danny at baggage claim. He called Danny “Mr. Butler,” and asked how his flight was, and a lot of other meaningless kind of stuff. Danny kept up his side of the conversation as best he could, but his mind was on the bar at the Mirage.
The driver took Danny’s bags and led him out to the curb. He then spoke into a walkie-talkie kind of device, and Danny realized that this wasn’t the driver, that he was only calling for the car. These guys had their act together.
The car pulled up, and they loaded Danny’s bags into the trunk. Danny half climbed, half fell into the backseat, as the actual driver welcomed “Mr. Butler” to Vegas.
They drove off, and Danny was asleep before they got out of the airport. He woke up a short time later, as the parking attendant at the Mirage opened the door.
Except it wasn’t the parking attendant at the Mirage; it was somebody else, who got into the backseat next to Danny. And Danny barely had time to realize that they weren’t at the hotel at all, they were on a dark street, in front of what looked like a vacant warehouse.
Within three seconds the man had a device around Danny’s neck, but it took almost thirty seconds to make sure he was dead.
After which they drove off again.
I decide to take Hike with me to the jail.
On one level, it seems to make perfect sense. It’s a depressing place, colored grey and filled with people who have for the most part moved past desperate into hopeless. Hike is a depressing person, an incurable pessimist who himself sees the world through grey-colored glasses.
I wouldn’t be surprised if he makes an offer on a cell, maybe with a watch-tower view.
“So you owned the same dog?” Hike asks, moments after he gets in the car.
“Yes.”
