Hear No Evil

8

That night, Jack went bowling. He hadn’t bowled in about five hundred years, but anytime he got together with his father, they seemed to end up doing something that made Harry Swyteck shake his head and say, “You don’t get out much, do you, son?” Last time it was golf, and Jack was thankful that this time at least there were gutters to keep his balls from hitting the other players.

“You owe me thirty-two thousand seven hundred and sixty-eight dollars,” said Harry.

Double-or-nothing wagers could add up in a hurry. Especially when you sucked. “I’ll race you home for it,” said Jack.

“You expect me to go double or nothing on a footrace?” Harry said with a chuckle.

“I promise not to trip you.”

“Whattaya say we just save your old man the heart attack and call it even?”

“Oh, all right. But only because it’s your birthday.”

Harry slapped his arm around his son’s shoulder, and they walked out together to the car. Harry was turning sixty, and it didn’t seem to bother him a bit, so long as he could spend a chunk of time celebrating alone with his son. As Jack drove him home, he couldn’t help thinking what a difference ten years made. Jack hadn’t been part of the fiftieth birthday celebration. It had been a huge party in the governor’s mansion, but back then he and Governor Swyteck had not even been on speaking terms. Some thought it was because Jack was working for the Freedom Institute, defending death row inmates, while his father was signing death warrants faster than any other governor in Florida history. That philosophical disagreement probably hadn’t helped matters, but the rift between them had existed for years. In hindsight, neither one of them fully understood it, but the important thing was that they’d finally gotten past it. Still, it made Jack wonder what this father and son might have been like, how different it would have been for Jack growing up, if his mother, Harry’s young and beautiful first wife, hadn’t died bringing Jack into the world.

They reached the Swyteck residence at eight P.M., right on schedule. Jack was just about to invite himself inside to say hello to his stepmother when Harry beat him to the punch.

“So, you coming inside for the surprise party?” said Harry.

Jack hesitated. It had been his job to get his father out of the house and back precisely at eight P.M. “What party?” he said lamely.

“Jack, really now. Have you ever known Agnes to keep a secret?”

“Good point.” They got out of the car and followed the walkway to the front door. Harry opened it and stepped inside. Jack was right behind him.

“Surprise!” they shouted in unison, a houseful of friends erupting in one loud cheer.

Harry took a half step back, as if overwhelmed. His wife came to him, smiling east to west. They’d been out of the governor’s mansion for nearly four years, but she still carried herself like the First Lady. “Got you this time, didn’t I, Harry?”

He hugged her and said, “Sure did, darling.” Then he winked at Jack, as if to say, No one outfoxes the fox. “A total surprise.”

It was wall-to-wall people, the guest list having grown from two hundred of the former governor’s closest personal friends to more than five hundred “must invites.” Drinks were flowing, platters of tasty hors d’oeuvres were circulating, and it seemed that within every circle of conversation someone was telling stories about Harry at twenty, Harry at thirty, and so on. It was fun for Jack to hear the old tales, especially ones from the part of Harry’s life that Jack had missed by his own choosing, and to his later regret.

The band was starting to play outside by the swimming pool. Jack was slated to give a little toast before the cake and candles, and even though he was no stranger to speaking before a crowd, he was feeling a few butterflies. He kept going back and forth in his mind, trying to decide between a speech from the heart or a lighter speech that tickled the funny bone. The choice, he realized, was preordained. No matter how close he and his father became, they would always be Swytecks. There would always be things left unsaid.

“Jack, I want you to meet someone,” said Harry.

Jack turned to see his father standing beside a distinguished Latin gentleman, his silver and black hair slicked straight back, almost as if he’d just emerged from the swimming pool. Harry’s arm was draped around the man’s shoulder affectionately. “Jack, this is Hector Torres. He’s south Florida ’s new-”

“ U.S. attorney. I know, Dad. I’m a criminal defense lawyer, remember?”

“Don’t be so hard on the old man,” said Torres, smiling. “I was the one who asked to be introduced. We’ve never formally met, Jack, but I feel like I know you, I’ve heard so much about you.”

“You mean from my days as a prosecutor?” asked Jack.

“More from your old man. He and I go way back. I remember his thirtieth birthday party.”

“Boy, that’s some memory.”

“Hey, watch that, son.”

They shared a laugh, then Torres turned more serious. “I don’t think your father ever ran for office without my backing. Can you think of anything, Harry?”

“Nope. You were always there.”

“That’s true. I was always there for you.” He paused, as if to let the reminder hang in the air for a moment. Then he looked at Jack and said, “In all seriousness, your reputation is still sound at the office. I understand you’re quite an exceptional lawyer.”

“Depends on who you talk to,” said Jack.

“Actually, I’ve been talking to a lot of people recently. Matter of fact, just a couple of hours ago I was speaking with Alejandro Pintado about you.”

It was an awkward moment, such a festive atmosphere and yet such a stoic expression on the face of one of Harry’s oldest friends.

Harry grimaced. “Ah, poor Alejandro. I read about his son, and I’ve been meaning to drop him a note. Terrible thing.”

“Yes,” said Torres, but he was looking straight at Jack. “A terrible, terrible thing.”

“How’s he handling it?” asked Harry.

“About as well as can be expected.” Again he looked at Jack, then added, “Of course, he has his setbacks every now and then.”

“Well, give him my best,” said Harry.

“I will. Actually, I left him in pretty good spirits. I can’t get into details-grand jury secrecy and all-but I think we’re pretty close to an indictment. With the victim’s family in south Florida, the case has been assigned to the Miami office.”

“I was wondering about that,” said Jack.

“Yes. Alejandro asked me to handle the case personally. It’s sort of unusual for the U.S. attorney to actually try a case. But Alejandro’s a good friend. I told him I would.”

“That’s nice of you,” said Jack.

“Least I can do,” said Torres.

Outside the house on the back patio, on the other side of the opened California doors, the band suddenly stopped playing. The lead singer grabbed the microphone and announced, “We’re about ready for cake. Could the birthday boy start making his way toward the stage, please?”

“I guess that’s our cue,” said Harry. “Great to see you again, Hector. Thanks for coming.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it.”

Jack said, “And thanks again for the nice words.”

Harry started away, and Jack was about to follow when Torres grabbed him by the sleeve and stopped him. He spoke slightly above a whisper, softly enough so that no one but Jack could hear him amid the party noises. “I hate to have to say this at your father’s birthday, but it needs to be said. Stay the hell out of the Pintado case.”

“Is that coming from you or Alejandro?”

“Both. And if need be, I’ll make sure you hear it from your father, too.”

Jack chuckled lightly. “You really think that’s going to stop me?”

“Only if you’re as smart as he says you are.”

“You’re out of line, Mr. Torres.”

“And you’re out of your league, Mr. Swyteck.”

Jack met his stare, finding not so much as a trace of a smile on the prosecutor’s face. “We’ll see about that.”

Jack turned and worked his way through the crowd, passing one smiling well-wisher after another as he headed toward his father on stage. He wondered if Torres knew something-if somehow he’d discovered Jack’s personal stake in defending Lindsey Hart. Or was he just protecting his old friend Pintado, playing the typical prosecutor’s mind game, trying to screw with the mind of the opposition? It wasn’t clear.

His stepmother hugged him as he reached the stage. Jack hugged her back, but he turned her body just so, allowing himself one last glimpse of Hector Torres amid a jubilant crowd.

The man still wasn’t smiling.