Final judgment

EIGHTEEN

They let that bit of news hang in the air like a come-on in a singles bar. Fish leaned back in his chair, arms contentedly draped over his belly. Mason sat up straight. Fish was right. If the feds had information to exonerate Fish, they had to give it to the cops. If the information somehow incriminated Fish, they had to turn that over as well.

“I’m sure you’ve already shared that news with the police,” Mason said.

“Actually, not yet,” Samuelson said. “We just got the information yesterday. Agent Holt has been very busy, but I’m certain she’ll get together with the detectives as soon as she can.”

“You had time to invite us over to play Let’s Make a Deal, but you’re too busy to call the police and tell them whose body was in the trunk of my client’s car. Things must really be hopping down here,” Mason said.

Roosevelt Holmes raised one hand an inch off the table, stopping his subordinates from responding.

“Mr. Mason, you’d be surprised just how much things do hop down here. In fact, we can make just about anything or anyone hop, skip, or dance. You keep that in mind.” He glanced at his watch and stood. “You’ll excuse me. I have another meeting,” he said and left.

“This must be good,” Mason said. “Your boss wants us to know he’s behind whatever you’re about to offer, but he wants the plausible deniability that comes from not being here when you offer it. Makes it lonely in the middle.”

Samuelson leaned back in his chair, confident in the support from his boss.

“We will tell the police the identity of the victim. However, we do have some flexibility regarding when and what else we tell them because of an ongoing investigation being conducted by our office and the FBI. That’s where Mr. Fish comes in. We’d like his help. If he agrees, we’ll tell you what we know.”

“You’ll have to tell us what this other investigation is about and what you expect my client to do,” Mason said.

Samuelson shook his head. “I can’t do that without an agreement in advance that we have a deal. It’s too sensitive.”

“And if he refuses to sign on for a secret mission too secret to tell us what it’s about up front, you’ll let him be prosecuted for a crime you know he didn’t commit? Do you really think you can get away with that?”

“Let’s be clear about a couple of things,” Samuelson said. “We may know who the murder victim is, but we don’t know whether Mr. Fish is innocent or guilty. We won’t interfere with that investigation and we won’t set up your client to take the fall for a crime he didn’t commit. The murder is the state’s problem. Our concerns are at the federal level.”

“Mr. Holmes promised that you would treat me fairly and justly,” Fish said. “So you’ll tell the police the name of the dead man, who, by the way, I didn’t kill. When the police find out who the man was, they’ll realize I had nothing to do with it. So why should I be interested in your investigation?”

“There’s very little we can tell the police without compromising our investigation and we aren’t prepared to do that. But what we can tell them won’t be helpful to you,” Samuelson said.

Mason came out of his chair and leaned over the table. “How do you think this will play after I hold a press conference about your strong-arm tactics?”

Kelly stood, planting her palms on the table, squaring off against Mason and letting him know that the past was past. “Take your seat, Lou.”

Samuelson said, “I’d take her advice, Mason. Nothing you could tell the press will change Mr. Fish’s problems. He will be charged with murder and he will be convicted of mail fraud. Now mail fraud may not sound as bad as murder, but I guarantee it won’t help him with the jury in the murder case.”

Fish reached for Mason’s arm, tugging on his sleeve and gesturing for Mason to speak to him privately. Mason leaned toward Fish.

“The name,” Fish whispered in his ear. “Just get the name.”

Mason nodded, took his seat, and waited for Kelly to stand down. “You can turn the screws all you want, but at least you’ve got to give us the name. We’ve got to have something to go on besides faith in your compassion for my client. If we can do business, we will. If not, we’ll take our chances.”

Kelly gave Samuelson a look. “Your call,” she told Samuelson, who nodded at her. “Fair enough,” Kelly said. “Charles Rockley was the man in the trunk of Mr. Fish’s car.”