The Mayor of Lexington Avenue

Twenty-nine

Jack spent Monday night at Dick Radek’s house and woke up the next morning with a hangover. He and Dick had sat on the back porch until the wee hours of the morning drinking beer and solving the problems of the world. Now with his head pounding, he couldn’t even remember what one of those problems was.

He showered quickly, put on the extra pair of slacks and shirt he’d brought with him and waited for Dick to wake up so they could go to the copy place.

It took a little over an hour to have the file copied. He and Dick went out for breakfast. Then he dropped the old detective off and headed for Indiantown, where Joaquin Sanchez now lived permanently. Dick had called the night before ostensibly to let Joaquin know Jack was coming. But Jack knew the real reason-the address. Dick had to get Joaquin’s permission to give out his address. They’ve still got each other’s back.

Joaquin also lived on the water, a small canal that meandered out to Lake Okeechobee. He was cleaning his boat when Jack arrived. Jack rang the bell and stood at the front door for ten minutes before he thought to look in the backyard. So much for being an investigator, he told himself as he walked around the house and discovered Joaquin hard at work.

Joaquin was very friendly. “I can’t help you with much,” he said. “I wasn’t on the case too long.” But he had reread his report the night before and went over it in detail with Jack.

“There’s no doubt in my mind this Geronimo guy killed Lucy Ochoa. Rudy was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The problem is you’ve got no firsthand information. The guy I talked to-Pablo-he’ll probably help you but everything he knows is hearsay.”

“Did Dick tell you that Tracey talked to somebody about this case before she died? Somebody who gave her new information?”

“Oh yeah. He’s been talking about nothing else for the last year. I try to get him to forget about it-to come fishing-but he just sits there on his back porch drinking beer all day and festering. You know, it’s a hard thing for a cop to take when somebody is killed on his watch. He’s convinced that’s what happened to Tracey.”

“How about you? Are you convinced?”

“No. But I wasn’t close to the situation, Dick was. You learn in this business to trust your intuition. I trust Dick’s intuition.”

“Do you have any idea who would have called her?”

It was clear that Joaquin had already thought this through because he answered immediately. “Either Raymond Castro or Jose Guerrero-those were the two guys with Geronimo the night of the murder. It’s been ten years; they might have come back to town, heard about Rudy’s situation and decided to do something. That’s the only possibility I can come up with.”

Jack thanked Joaquin for his time and was about to leave when Joaquin remembered one more, small piece of information.

“Just before she dropped out of the case, Tracey sent a letter to the state attorney about this Geronimo fellow and attached my report. She sent me a copy of the letter, I guess because it was my report. I’ve got an extra copy if you’d like it.”

Jack didn’t know how much good it would do but he took the copy and thanked Joaquin again before heading back to Bass Creek.

That night, on their evening run, he told Pat all about his trip. They took a special route, one Pat had discovered just the day before when Jack was out of town. It was a secluded path through the woods.

“Covers about ten miles but we can get off anywhere we want.”

Jack loved the new run. They were hidden among tall pines and ancient oaks. The arms and elbows of the oak trees were brimming with Spanish moss, which created an eerie atmosphere that made them feel even more secluded and alone.

Jack started in on his story right away, and by mile three he was summarizing what he’d learned. “So Tracey James is dead, and her chief investigator thinks she was murdered by Wesley Brume, the investigating detective in Rudy’s case, a theory that I don’t buy at all. Yet, Tracey was getting back into the case. And she found out something-something that she believed would free Rudy and possibly incriminate Brume. Radek thinks that’s why Brume killed her. Radek doesn’t know who Tracey talked to but he thinks the information is somewhere in her file, which he is guarding with his life. Joaquin’s pretty sure it was one of the two guys who saw Rudy go into Lucy’s trailer, but he’s got no proof.

“I’m certain now after talking with Radek and Joaquin that this Geronimo guy killed Lucy Ochoa. Unfortunately, the guy Joaquin talked to-this Pablo person-is dead. I checked on him as soon as I got back into town today.”

“What does it all mean in terms of stopping Rudy’s execution?” Pat was getting lost in this barrage of facts. She understood the part about Rudy being innocent. She just didn’t understand how they were going to prove it.

“So far it means nothing. Everything I found out is inadmissible. I have absolutely no basis to file an appeal right now. I need to find some evidence to put this Geronimo-or anyone other than Rudy, really-in Lucy’s trailer that night, and I need it fast. I agree with Dick Radek about one thing-the evidence is in the files. I haven’t read Tracey’s file yet, but there’s got to be something in the files I’ve looked at already that I’m missing.”

“Why don’t you read the files again?”

“I don’t have time. I’ll read Tracey’s file tomorrow. The next day we’re going to see Rudy. Then I’ve got to start writing a brief even though I have nothing to write about.”

“You’ll find something, I’m certain of it. Listen, about me going with you to see Rudy-I think you should take Nancy instead.”

“You don’t want to go?” Jack looked disappointed.

“Of course I do, but Nancy is really tuned into this case. I think she can help you more because she knows the details so much better. She’s poring over those files.”

“Both of you could come.” They had already passed the five-mile cutoff, running comfortably, unaware of the distance they had traveled.

“No,” Pat said firmly. “I’d just be a distraction. You need to lay out for Nancy as you have for me all the information that you’ve got-and all the dots that need connecting.”

“Nancy’s just interested in being a secretary.”

“Not anymore, Jack. You changed that-you made her believe she has what it takes to be a lawyer. She’s done all the legwork to make that happen-checked out the schools and everything. And she’s on this case. Nancy will find that needle in the haystack you’re looking for. Take her along.”

Jack didn’t want to give up so easily and it had nothing to do with Nancy.

“Well, she can stay at the office and go over the files while you and I visit Rudy.”

“We can go another time-I’m not going anywhere. I think she needs to meet Rudy.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know. Woman’s intuition, I guess. Once she meets Rudy she’ll find what you need.” Jack knew the discussion was over. He chuckled to himself.

“What?” she asked.

“I was just thinking about Nancy. You know, I didn’t speak to her at all for the first year she worked for me.”

“She told me that. She said you were an uptight lawyer type until she found you crying in your office the day you heard Mike had died.” Jack thought about that for a moment.

“She’s right. The day I found out Mikey died changed a lot of things for me. I hadn’t cried in about ten years. Since then I’ve been like a busted dam. I broke down after I saw Rudy for the first time. I cried on the way home after you arrived-I was so happy to see you here. Hell, last night I was watching a movie in my bedroom and I started crying. I’m becoming a blubbering idiot.” They both laughed.

“You’re just living again, Jack. Warm blood is flowing through those veins.”

“Maybe so.” He suddenly took hold of her arm and they both stopped running. He looked at her, his hands now resting on her hips. “I was serious about crying on the way home the first day you arrived. Having you here has just meant so much to me. I mean, now I feel comfortable-confident that I can get this thing done.”

Pat rested her sweaty arms loosely around his neck. “You weren’t exactly a shrinking violet before I arrived on the scene.”

“Maybe not, but this is different-this is a labor of love. And I needed you to be part of it.” Pat didn’t say anything. She just hugged him. And he hugged her. There among the tall pines, the wide oaks, and the Spanish moss, they silently rested on each other.

Later, after finishing his swim, donning his shorts, tee shirt and flip-flops and making a quick run to the grocery store for some steaks, Jack passed Pat’s open bedroom door on his way to his own room. He turned to look inside but didn’t see her.

“Jack, could you come here for a second?” Her voice came from the private bathroom adjacent to her room. That door was also open, but he couldn’t see inside from where he was standing.

“Sure, what is it?” he answered, walking into the bathroom. Pat was standing by the already running shower in her birthday suit. Jack immediately had all his questions about her body answered. Her stomach was flat, her breasts firm-she looked fabulous. He didn’t know what to say. Pat did the talking.

“I’m awful sweaty. When I step in this shower, could you just wash my back? I can’t get to it myself.”

“Sure,” he replied, taking a step forward.

She looked at him. “Jack!” she exclaimed.

“What?” Oh, no-did I do something wrong at this crucial moment?

“If you’re going to wash my back in the shower, you need to take your clothes off!”

“Oh. Yeah right. Give me just a second.”

For some strange reason, he retreated to the bedroom as he started pulling off his shirt, as if modesty prevented him from removing his clothes in front of her. He still had his shorts on when he realized how ridiculous he was being and started to move back towards the bathroom. Now he was in a hurry-experience told him that time was of the essence in these matters. He was taking a couple of jogging steps trying to hop out of his shorts, which were now down around his ankles, when he fell face forward on the bedroom floor with a loud thud. Pat came running into the room to see what had happened. When she saw Jack on the floor, his shorts still around his ankles, she burst out laughing.

Jack felt so ridiculous, he started laughing himself. There they were-Pat, buck-naked, standing at the bathroom door, and Jack lying on the floor in a kind of fetal position, shaking with laughter as he tried to slip his shorts all the way off.

“This is a very unusual style of foreplay, Jack. But it certainly is amusing.”

Jack was laughing so hard now he couldn’t speak. He almost lost the ability to breathe as well when Pat stretched her right arm out and leaned against the bathroom door. The bedroom was dark but the light was on in the bathroom, silhouetting her figure in the doorway like the sculpture of an ancient Greek goddess. Jack’s mouth went dry.

He washed her back and her front. He kissed every inch of her body and when he was done, she took him to bed. They made slow, sweet, passionate love. Later, Jack just lay there in her arms. He’d never felt like this before-in the arms of someone who knew him better than he knew himself, who had told him in no uncertain terms by her actions that she loved him. These were arms he knew would never let him go.