Shake the Trees (29 page)

CHAPTER 45

It was ten o’clock Friday morning and the press conference was about to begin.  Governor Lord and Rutherford Sterling sat together on a stage that regularly saw amateur productions by the had-been and would-be actors and actresses residing at The Gracious Living Retreat.  Lord beamed an honest ‘happy to be here’ smile, while Rutherford Sterling offered a fixed smirk that even those who couldn’t remember their own names instinctively knew was contemptuous.

“Thank you all for coming.  I’m sure that many of you saw the news reports yesterday concerning the shooting death of Marc Mason - the President and CEO of American Senior Security.  I’m afraid that there is more tragic news to report. 

“Early this morning, the body of Federal Magistrate Judge James Mason was discovered in the Keys.  He was the victim of a gunshot wound.  James Mason was the father of Marc Mason.  Both Marc Mason and James Mason were being sought by the FDLE in connection with the looting of American Senior Security.

“The murder of an American Senior Security corporate officer one week ago in Ten Thousand Islands brings the death toll in this sad story of greed and violence to three.  Please be assured that state and federal law enforcement will continue to do everything in their power to bring any and all culpable individuals who remain at large to justice.”

A frail but full-bodied blue-haired woman stood and shouted to the Governor.  “What about our money?”  Several other elderly men and women murmured their shared concern.  

The Governor smiled engagingly.  “Could I ask your name please, ma’am?”

“Edna,” the woman answered defiantly.

“Thank you, Edna.  You’re the reason I’m here today.”  Lord opened his arms in a symbolic group hug. “You all are the reason I’m here today.  You are the reason this news conference is being held at The Gracious Living Retreat.  I know that you’re concerned about how you’re going to pay for this wonderful facility in light of the failure of American Senior Security.”

“Damn straight I am,” Edna snapped.  The comment elicited a few scattered laughs and many more grumblings of annoyance.

“Do you mind my asking, Edna; do you know a lady named Dora Hufstedtler?”

Edna looked down at the embarrassed looking woman sitting next to her.  “Well, Dora, stand up for heaven’s sake.”  Edna sat down, disgusted that she was no longer the center of attention.

Governor Lord smiled down at Dora.  “You may stay seated if you wish, Mrs. Hufstedtler.”  Then he looked out at the audience.

“This past Sunday, Mrs. Hufstedtler gave one of my FDLE Special Agents a letter she received from American Senior Security.  Most all of you received an identical letter.  In that letter, President and CEO Marc Mason wrote that he was an attorney, and that he considered each and every one of you to be his client.  And he reassured you regarding the viability of the company.  The legal characterization and consequences of these statements is certainly open to question under such extraordinary circumstances.  Nevertheless, The Florida Bar has graciously chosen to use monies held in the Florida Bar Client Misappropriation Trust Fund to satisfy the obligations of American Senior Security.”

Dora Hufstedtler slowly rose to her feet with an arthritic grimace.  “Does that mean we get to stay?”  She asked hesitantly.

“Yes, Dora, you get to stay.”  The Governor answered with heartfelt emotion. 

The assembled crowd greeted the news with relief, and directed their admiration toward a glowing Dora Hufstedtler. 

Soon Edna was back on her feet.  “How do we know this so-called Client Misappropriation Trust Fund has enough money?”

“Well, Edna, that’s another good question.  Fortunately, I can assure you that the Client Misappropriation Trust Fund is well endowed.  There is more than enough money to satisfy the obligations of American Senior Security.” 

Then Governor Lord held up a hand, wordlessly asking the crowd for its forbearance.  “I’m sure there are many other good questions.  Which is why I asked Rutherford Sterling, President of The Florida Bar Board of Governors, to attend this press conference with me.  Mr. Sterling was a passionate voice in this matter.  Please join me in welcoming and expressing our profound appreciation to a legendary attorney, a great humanitarian, and my good friend Rutherford Sterling.”

It was a sunny spring morning in South Georgia.  The day was warming, but it was still pleasant.  Tillis was walking the trails of Longleaf, inspecting the stands of small grains he’d seeded to fatten up the bobwhite quail. A good morning to be alive, Tillis thought, trying to shake off his disappointment.  Over the course of the past week, he’d worked his tail off.  Still, in the end, events hadn’t broken his way. 

He’d flown to Thomasville that morning after visiting Sam in the hospital.  And after learning that the body of James Mason had been found in the Keys.  An open line on a 911 call from a cell phone led authorities to the scene.  Sally went down with a top forensics team out of Miami-Dade, but he wasn’t hopeful.

Tillis knew that for the most part, people made their own good luck.  And he’d done his best to make his.  A surveillance team was put on James Mason, but somehow he slipped away.  And a BOLO had gone out to all local, state, and federal law enforcement for Marc Mason and Elizabeth Hayes aka Ellen Hughes, but to no avail.  Now two more were dead.  And Elizabeth Ellen Hayes was still at large.

As he studied the weaving grass, a sign of unseen birds, Tillis thought that time had been slipping away lately.  The moment teetered between peaceful and melancholic.  Then his cell intruded.  Tillis looked down and saw that the press conference must have concluded.

“How’d it go?”  Tillis answered.

“Sterling assumed his role as generous humanitarian with aplomb.  Fortunately, he’s on his way to Miami and I’m headed back to Tallahassee.”  Governor Lord replied as he sat alone in the rear seat of a black Suburban making its way to Venice Municipal Airport.

“And I thought you two were going to make that whole yin yang thing work.”

There was a pause in the conversation before Governor Lord spoke again.  “Where are you?”

“Longleaf.”  Tillis grudgingly offered in clipped reply.

“Now what?”  Lord asked.

“Now what what?”

“Now what about the money?”  Lord asked with some impatience.

“I guess that question would be better directed to Homeland Security or the State Department.  Foreign nations just don’t seem to take me seriously when I demand that they disclose their international banking secrets.  I’m thinking my lack of a nuclear strike capability might have something to do with it.”

“The Client Misappropriation Trust Fund holds a subrogation interest in any recovery.  I promised Rutherford Sterling and The Bar that we’d recover the stolen funds.”

“You’re finally starting to sound like a real politician, Chuck.”  Tillis rejoined.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re making promises you can’t keep.”

“We’re talking about 150 million dollars.  It can’t just disappear.”  Lord argued.

“Even if Myanmar eventually bows to international pressure, those funds will have been bounced around the globe so many times they’ll be virtually untraceable.  At least as a practical matter.  Consequently, we have a near perfect crime.”

“I didn’t think there was any such thing.  A perfect crime.”

“I said near perfect.” Tillis was getting more irritated with Lord’s tone.  “Look.  We’re running out of co-conspirators.  They’re all turning up dead.  We’re doing everything we can to find Elizabeth Ellen Hayes, but she’s not stupid.  Crazy maybe, but definitely not stupid. But I have great confidence in the ability of people in general, and especially criminals, to eventually do something stupid.  I just wouldn’t hold my breath.”

“So the Florida Bar forks over 150 million dollars, and that’s it?” 

Tillis smiled.  “For the record, I’m not smiling.  Really.  Cross my heart.  Also for the record, I‘m not giving up.  But I want to give you a realistic assessment of the situation.”

“Do you have any other leads?”  Lord struggled to push the exchange toward less confrontational ground.

“I have a few ideas.”

“You’re awfully glib this morning.”

Tillis sighed with undisguised exasperation.  “I guess time won the first round yesterday.  When two more of our suspects checked out.  Bit the dust.  Took the big vacation.  Bought the …”  

“I get it.  What about round two?”  Lord interrupted.

“That kind of money does strange things to people.  Like I said, I’m not giving up.” Tillis emphasized the later part of his comment.

“So we just wait?”

“Look on the bright side.  The feds won’t touch this case again with a ten-foot pole after that fiasco in Tampa yesterday.  And bad guys are dropping like flies.  So the State of Florida just avoided several trials and the long–term incarceration of multiple defendants.  For a states’ rights loving fiscal conservative like you, there must be a silver lining in there somewhere.”

“I find it hard to view yesterday as a win-win scenario.”  Lord grumbled.

“You’re a difficult man to please.  Less than a week ago, your main concern was the fate of those elderly folks you just finished talking to.”

“I know, Tillis.  I appreciate everything you’ve done.  And I trust your instincts.  I guess I’m feeling a little guilty.”

“You mean about blackmailing the Florida Bar?”

The Governor cleared his throat before responding.  “I wouldn’t describe it as blackmail.  Maybe strategic persuasion.”

“Works for me.  Remember, they’re lawyers.”

Governor Lord chuckled ruefully.  “Everybody loves to hate lawyers.  Until they really need one.”

“They still hate lawyers, Chuck.”

“Except for their lawyer.  They love their own lawyer.  When they really need one.”  Lord countered earnestly.

“Until they get the bill,” Tillis muttered.

“Hello?”  Chubbs always answered the phone with a question mark.  Like he couldn’t imagine why somebody would be calling him.

“It’s me, Chubbs.” 

“Rodger!  How’s Sam?  I mean we heard he’s going to be okay, but how’s he doing this morning?”

“He’s doing fine.  He’ll be in the hospital for a few days, and then he and Sandi will fly back.  Dustin and I will be heading out first thing tomorrow morning.  We won’t push it.  Probably be home late Monday night.”  Rodger explained.

“No hurry.  Everything’s fine here.”

“I have your check in my pocket.  I appreciate everything you’ve done, Chubbs.  So do Sandi and Sam.”

“No problem.  Its just money.”  Chubbs replied affably.

“Even so, it’s a certified check.  So they deducted it from your account when they issued it.  Tell Leroy to cancel it, and to start paying you interest again.  He’ll try and drag it out if he can.”

“Sure.”  Chubbs agreed.

“What’s happening at the Circle M?”

Chubbs paused before answering.  “They finished up that reservoir and cleared out.”

“Already?”  Rodger sounded concerned.

“Yeah.  They had a lot of big equipment up there.  I snuck on back and looked around after they finished.  That reservoir is huge, Rodger.  I hate to say it, but your place is gonna be mighty dry.”

“I know.”  Rodger answered glumly.

Sally studied the intricately engraved pearl-handled Smith & Wesson Model 1917 .45 caliber revolver.  It was a remarkably beautiful and unique weapon, and Sally generally liked guns the way some women like shoes.  But this gun held no allure.  This gun was different.  She tagged and bagged it, and punched up Tillis with a latex covered index finger.

“It’s not a tear drop.”  Tillis stated in reply to Sally’s description of the engraving on the big Smith & Wesson.  “It represents a drop of blood.  The last drop.  We can get the exact date of manufacture from the serial number.  Collectors pay a lot of money for these guns.  Depending on the pedigree.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“About a sad chapter of Florida history.  The South’s history.  Are you sure this is the gun that killed James Mason?”

“Ballistics will confirm, but I’m pretty damn sure.  The forensics guys found Elizabeth Ellen Hayes’ prints all over the place.  And on the gun.  In all the right places.  She blew a hole in his chest.  He suffered.”  Sally explained.

“An S&W Model 1917 isn’t a weapon of choice for the fairer sex.  I’d bet it was his gun.  But how did he get his hands on it?”

“Well, he was an interesting judge magistrate.  How did he get his hands on a Cayman holding company which controlled 100% of the shares of American Senior Security?”

“A company formerly known as The Rebel Life Insurance Company.  Founded circa 1920s.”  Tillis commented in a slow and deliberate manner. 

“What are you thinking?”  Sally knew from experience that Tillis’ mind was working overtime.

“I’m thinking I’m going to need that gun.” 

“Why?”