Mob Lawyer 2: A Legal Thriller Read online

  I thought about that for a moment and then sighed.

  “For their silence,” I said. “So no one would know how much had been lost. But it also helped them, so they could retain their positions on the boards of other companies.”

  “So how is this different?” Anthony demanded. “I know you’ve done even worse shit for your old clients.”

  I hated it, but I also knew he was right. I’d seen a major oil company pay off locals in Central America so they could drill on their land without applying for permits, and an agricultural giant quietly pay its workers a near lifetime’s worth of money to not file suit amid concerns over the safety of the pesticide of choice. I’d read through so many nondisclosure agreements that I could practically recite them by heart.

  “Okay, yeah,” I finally muttered. “I’ve seen companies do some messed up crap, but it was never illegal.”

  “Who says this is?” Anthony replied. “As long as everyone is on board, we’re fine.”

  I wasn’t sold on the idea that bribing the local sheriff was just a standard business cost, but Anthony had moved on to other topics, apparently unconcerned about the Sheriff’s threat.

  “So find out what he wants,” Anthony said at the end of the call. “Make sure he understands that this is a one time offer.”

  “Right, got it,” I replied.

  “Let me know how it goes at the mine,” my client added. “Jeez, Shifty, Hup and Bam. How do you always end up in the weird shit, Hunter?”

  “It’s your weird shit,” I pointed out.

  The last thing I heard was Anthony laughing, and then the signal was lost. I glanced at my phone and then looked up as the rest of the crowd started to stand and move away.

  “They switch the box off when the offices close for the day,” a middle-aged man called to me.

  “Good to know,” I muttered as I stood up and joined the crowd that was heading back towards the street.

  With little else to do, I went back to the hotel and set to work on my laptop. Luckily, I had saved copies of the drafts to my hard drive, so I made the changes I wanted to make, then went back and made some more. The contract for sale that Landis had sent was pretty basic and mostly boilerplate, and I tried not to laugh as I pulled it apart and turned it into an ironclad deal.

  By the time I looked up from my computer, I saw that the sun had set and the streetlights had come on. I checked my watch, then decided it was time to visit the diner again. I closed the computer, locked the door, and made my way to the lobby. Three men were gathered in front of the fireplace though no fire had been lit. They each had a cocktail glass and were laughing and talking like they were old friends. The laughter died away as I made my way towards the door, and then I heard the voices pick up again as I stepped outside.

  It had cooled off considerably while I worked and I was glad that I had remembered to bring my jacket. I decided to join the people I could see strolling through the park on my way to the diner, and crossed the street to the ankle-high grass.

  Lightning bugs darted through the park, and children chased after them while their parents looked on. An elderly couple walked a slow circuit near the park’s edge while a group of teen-agers sat in the middle of the park and drank from flasks. It was all so ordinary and uncomplicated, and I found myself smiling at people as I passed by.

  At the end of the park, I crossed to Jenkins Road and made my way to the diner. It was still busy and I could hear the noise inside from half a block away every time someone opened the door. The lights inside were bright and I could see Joelle and two new waitresses moving seamlessly between the tables while the guests chatted with each other, sometimes with someone at the opposite end of the dining room.

  It all looked so warm and welcoming that I stepped back inside without a second thought. Of course, as soon as people took in my appearance, the place went quiet again. That wasn’t particularly upsetting, since my lunchtime visit had evoked the same response. This time, though, as I looked around, there was a decidedly less friendly atmosphere.

  Joelle appeared in front of me with a copy of the menu and gave me a smile, though not nearly as bright as the one she’d given me earlier in the day. I accepted the menu even as I looked around at the angry faces.

  “No spots left at the counter right now,” she noted.

  “Well, I was just thinking about getting something to go,” I replied. “I’ve got some work to finish up.”

  “The bacon cheeseburger is really good,” she suggested. “And I’ll make sure you get a nice heaping of the french fries.”

  I nodded as she moved away, then stepped back into a spot to the right of the door. The noise level slowly picked up again, but it was hard not to notice the glares that were still thrown in my direction. I wondered what had changed between lunch and dinner, besides the people, and decided the grapevine must have been hard at work. Perhaps Bam had talked to Shifty and Shifty hadn’t liked what he’d heard? I decided a visit with the Sheriff would be a good plan for the morning, at least so I could figure out what would keep the deal moving forward. I still wasn’t okay with the idea of bribing the man, but as Anthony had reminded me, this wasn’t really the first time I’d done it.

  Joelle returned as I mulled over the possible bribes I could offer and handed me a large paper bag that already had a couple of grease spots. It smelled of grilled meat and fried potatoes, and I opened the sack to stick my nose in for a better whiff.

  “I’ll just ring you up,” Joelle said as she nudged me towards the cash register.

  “Oh, hey,” I said happily as I followed in her wake. “Thanks for the lemonade. I didn’t even think about ordering a drink.”

  “Oh, sure darling,” she replied.

  I paid my bill and left my tip in the jar, then slipped as casually as I could from the diner. I could feel the stares follow me until I was down the block and out of sight of the diners near the windows. After that, I didn’t bother with a pleasant ramble through the park. Instead, I trotted quickly back to the hotel and up the stairs to my room. I ducked back inside without seeing anyone, then dropped into the lone chair in the room and opened the bag again.

  The whole room started to smell like a hamburger joint as I unloaded the bag, though I wasn’t going to complain. I took a deep breath, sucked down some of the piping hot fries, then unwrapped the burger from its aluminum foil cover. It was big, fat and oozing with cheese and crispy bacon. There was absolutely nothing healthy about it, not even a wilted piece of lettuce, and it was delicious.

  I ate slowly and savored every bite, then tossed everything back into the paper sack. I was tempted to toss it in the garbage can in the room, but that would probably mean having to smell it all night. So after washing my hands, I picked up the laptop and the paper bag, and then returned to the lobby. I found another can in the lobby where I could toss the sack and then crossed to the dining area. I spotted the sign for the business center on the other side of the room and walked through the darkened room full of tables and chairs.

  The room was empty when I stuck my head around the door, so I claimed a spot at a small table and logged onto the local server with the password ‘IamSm8rt’ as advised by the handwritten sign over the printer. I made a few more minor changes before I printed everything out for Bam, and I even found an old package of brown envelopes that someone had left behind. I stuffed the envelope, sealed it shut, then wrote Bam’s name on the front.

  I returned to the front desk, and though there wasn’t anyone around, I rang the service bell on the off chance that someone might respond. The first creature I saw was actually Jess, the one-eyed dog, who rolled out from one of the office doors and greeted me with one of his or her gentle woofs and a round of tail wags. I patted Jess on the head and rubbed beneath the chin, which led to the discovery of just how soft the fur actually was.

  “May I help you, Mr. Morgan?” a man’s voice asked from behind the counter.

  I looked up to see that the man who had been on duty w
hen I arrived was behind the desk and smiling at me like we were now best friends. I guessed that probably had more to do with my treatment of Jess than anything else, but right now I would take a friendly look from a local anyway I could get it.

  “Mr. Bluefeld will be by in the morning to pick up this envelope,” I said as I placed the package on the desk. “I’m not sure exactly what time, but I told him I would leave it at the desk.”

  “I’ll be happy to make sure he gets it,” the man replied as he picked the envelope up. “Will there be anything else?”

  “No, thank you,” I said politely as I scratched Jess behind the ears. The tail picked up pace and a thin stream of drool appeared.

  “She really likes that,” the clerk noted. “Ear scratches always make her happy.”

  “What kind of dog is she?” I asked.

  “Just a mutt,” the clerk replied with a shrug. “Someone turned her in at the shelter in Bridgeport and claimed they’d found her bleeding and missing the eye and they didn’t know what had happened. The vet said she’d been shot and the person had probably been trying to kill her. They never found the people who dropped her off so I don’t know if they were involved or not.”

  “I’m glad she found you,” I said as I gave the dog a last pat on the head.

  The man smiled and cast an adoring gaze on Jess. The pair ambled off towards the office while I crossed to the scary staircase and once more climbed up to my room. Once inside, I dropped onto the bed and flicked on the television. There were only three stations, one showing Charlie’s Angels reruns, one showing Friends reruns, and one showing a documentary on castles of the Rhine. I gave up on the television and read a few more pages in the book I had downloaded before I drifted off to sleep.

  I’m not sure what woke me. The sun wasn’t up yet and only the mourning doves seemed to be awake among the bird population. I could hear their coos just outside my window as I tried to figure out what had startled me in my sleep. And then I heard it again, the sound of something heavy and metallic against the pavement and the hushed sound of whispered voices.

  I flung myself out of the bed and across the room. It took me a moment to push the heavy drape out of the way, and I cursed myself for closing it the night before. When I finally managed to get a clear view out of the window, I couldn’t decide whether to curse or moan.

  I counted five people, all in black clothing, gathered around my rental car. It was already covered in splashes of paint from the nearby cans, but now it appeared they were adding messages on the windows with spray cans. I tried to find the release for the window, then gave up and pounded on the glass. Two people actually looked up for a moment and I got a good look at their startled faces. And then the troop snatched up the cans and ran across the parking lot and down the street, away from the town and out of my line of sight.

  Chapter 4

  “Damn it!” I yelled as I stared at the Chevy.

  It was now several shades of neon that was hard to miss even in the pre-dawn light. I couldn’t make out what had been painted on the windows, but I really didn’t care at that point. I found my cell phone and tried to dial 9-1-1, but all I heard was a ding and then empty air. I dropped the cell phone on the bed and snatched up the landline instead. I dialed 9-1-1 again, but nothing happened. I studied the instructions for phone use next to the bed, then gave up, grabbed a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and hustled down the stairs as fast as I could.

  The place was still empty, and if anyone else had heard the late-night visitors, they hadn’t been worried enough to investigate. Or maybe they had decided they didn’t care since the only victim in the matter was the out of town lawyer who was there to buy Bam’s property.

  I made it outside, where I quickly discovered just how cool it could get during the dark of night in the mountains, and took in the new look of my car. The poor Chevy may not have been the best car I’d ever driven, but it certainly didn’t deserve what had happened. Orange, green, and pink paint had been poured over the roof and hood, and allowed to ooze over the sides. It looked like someone had broken open a kaleidoscope and splashed the contents all over the Chevy.

  Despite that, I think I could have driven it around town, but the spray paint artist had gone to work on all of the windows. There were cartoon characters with raised middle fingers and a dog urinating on something. Across the front window, the phrase ‘Coal is Murder’ had been painted, but I had apparently interrupted them before they could finish the phrase on the rear window, which said ‘Don’t tru’.

  “Shit,” I muttered as I shivered in the cold air.

  I wondered if I could still remove the paint on my own, but a quick poke with my finger on both the hood and the front window revealed that the vandals must have used quick drying paint. It was already tacky and getting more solid by the second. The spray paint was basically set and there was no way I would be able to see well enough to drive, even without factoring in the steep grades and the sizeable potholes that were such a common trait of the local roads.

  I heard a noise behind me and turned around to see one of the men who had been sipping drinks by the fireplace. He was in his fifties, with thin brown hair and a shiny patch on top of his head. He rubbed at his eyes with a fist, then squinted at the car.

  “Geez,” he murmured as he studied the car.

  “Did you see them?” I asked.

  The man shook his head as he stepped next to me.

  “I just came down early to get some time on the computer,” he replied. “I saw you standing out here and thought you might be having a smoke. I was gonna see if I could bum one from you.”

  “I need to call the police,” I sighed.

  “Sure,” the man agreed. “Though I imagine it was just teenagers.”

  I thought about the two faces I had seen and shook my head. The man had definitely been in his thirties, at least, while the woman had probably been in her twenties.

  “Use the phone at the front desk,” the man suggested. “Brian keeps a list there with all the direct numbers for everyone, including the Sheriff.”

  “Thanks,” I said as I glanced back towards the desk. “Isn’t there anyone on duty at night?”

  “Well,” the man drawled, “they’ve had different night clerks over the years, but they all seem to end up doing the same thing.”

  “Let me guess, sleeping in the office,” I suggested.

  “Yep,” the man replied. “Heck, I remember one kid they had, guy named Rick or Ronnie or such, he slept through the fire a couple of years ago. It destroyed the hardware store that used to be at the other end of the park. They had every fireman and every firetruck in the county out here, and those gas tanks for the grills kept popping off. It was like a war zone, but he missed the whole thing.”

  “I don’t suppose there’s a camera,” I said as I peered at the eaves of the building.

  “Not that I’ve ever noticed,” the man replied.

  “Well, I guess I’ll go call the Sheriff,” I sighed as I took a last look at the Chevy.

  The salesman followed me back inside, and after pointing out the list to me, turned and headed for the business center. I thought about knocking on the office door, just to see if I could rouse anybody, but decided I would leave that for the Sheriff to deal with. I picked up the receiver and dialed the number that Brian had written down in a very careful script.

  The phone rang twice and then someone picked up. At first, all I could hear was a thud and then the sound of someone breathing.

  “Hello?” I prompted.

  “Who the hell is this?” a gravelly voice demanded.

  “I’m trying to find the Sheriff,” I said. “I want to report a crime.”

  There were a few muttered curse words, and then a woman’s voice in the background. The gravelly voice grunted, and then it sounded like someone was moving around.

  “Give me a second,” the voice said.

  Before I could say anything, the voice disappeared. I could still hear sounds in th
e background though, so I knew he hadn’t hung up. After listening to a woman clear her throat and a dog sniff the phone, the voice came back on the line.

  “I got it,” the voice said.

  A click followed as the other receiver was returned to its resting place.

  “Now, what’s this about a crime?” the voice asked.

  “Vandals destroyed my car,” I replied calmly although what I really wanted to do was scream and demand to know if this was how the local police force always responded to reports of a crime.

  “Mr. Morgan, is that you?” the Sheriff asked.

  “It is,” I replied. “I woke up and discovered that someone’s painted my car.”

  “Well, that can be annoying,” the Sheriff said. “Don’t know that ya needed to report that right now. Ya could have just driven it over to the station when we opened.”

  “I can’t drive it,” I snapped. “There’s paint on the windows as well.”

  “Oh, well, now that’s different,” the Sheriff replied.

  “They just left,” I added. “They ran off down the road, away from the town. Maybe you could pick up their trail or something if you can get someone out there to look for them.”

  “Won’t do much good right now,” the Sheriff said. “Not enough light to really conduct a search.”

  “There were five of them, all dressed in black,” I replied. “One was a woman in her twenties with a round face and the other was a man in his forties with glasses and a crooked nose.”

  “You saw their faces?” the Sheriff asked in surprise.

  “Only briefly,” I said. “They looked up when I pounded on the window.”

  The Sheriff pondered that for a moment and then I heard him draw a breath. I realized he was probably smoking and wondered if that was the first thing he did every morning.

  “Okay, I’ll come take a look,” the Sheriff finally said. “Ya still at the Inn?”

  “I am,” I replied.

  “Right,” the Sheriff said and then hung up.

  I stared at the receiver for a moment before I replaced it in the cradle. I wondered what would have happened if the situation had been more dire. Surely if I had said I was being attacked by a man with a knife, the Sheriff would have sprung into action more quickly. Or at least called someone who could.