The Alligator Man (14 page)

W
hen they got back to the boat, Carlisle drove to a shady spot where the mangroves grew together, forming a cylindrical corridor. He stopped the boat, opened the cooler, and took out some sandwiches.

“I’ve got turkey and ham and cheese, bottled water, and Diet Coke.”

“I’ll have turkey and some water, thanks,” Kevin told him. He was beginning to enjoy Carlisle’s company. He had some more questions, though, and he figured this was the right time to get them answered.

“What’s with the bird?”

“You mean Scotch?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t tell too many people this but since you asked—my father died two years ago, April twentieth to be exact. We were really close.

“About a month after he was gone, Scotch showed up. I know it sounds crazy—that’s why I don’t tell too many people—I think Scotch is my father. He’s come back to keep an eye on me.”

It was a strange story, but for some reason, in this setting, it made sense. Kevin finished his sandwich and Carlisle tossed him another one without him even asking. Kevin stretched his legs out and took a swig of water.

“Carlisle, you know as much about this case as anyone since you did most of the investigation. I’m going to be honest with you—it’s a pretty strong circumstantial evidence case. I’m going to try to attack it, but I also have to continue to investigate the possibility that somebody else committed this murder, that things may not be as they seem. I’m going to need somebody like you, who knows the area and the people and can help me connect the dots and see that bigger picture.”

Carlisle just sat there looking around for a minute or two, not saying a word.

“I’m not a fan of Roy Johnson,” he finally said. “He and my father didn’t get along. But I don’t think I can help you. I think your client’s guilty. What does he say happened?”

“I haven’t asked.”

“I don’t get that, Kevin. You haven’t asked your client what happened but you want me to help you investigate some other possibility? That doesn’t make sense.”

“I can’t ask because if I ask and he says he’s guilty, then I can’t put facts into evidence that I know are not true.”

“And that’s a problem because—
he’s guilty?
Am I missing something here?”

Carlisle had a point. It had been Kevin’s dilemma while working for Bernie. And it was what he told Susan he wasn’t going to do anymore.

“I’ll tell you what, Carlisle. I’ll ask Billy what happened, and if he tells me he’s not guilty, will you help me investigate other possibilities?”

“How will you know he’s telling you the truth?”

“I won’t know for sure, but if I don’t believe him I’ll tell you I don’t believe him.”

“How will I know you’re telling me the truth?”

“You won’t.”

Carlisle gave Kevin the same steely glare as he had at Rosie’s—the one that went past his eyes and into his person. He held it for a few seconds.

“Okay,” he finally said. “I’m in. There’s a reason I told you about Scotch. I’m supposed to trust you.”

“By the way,” Kevin asked, “you said something about your father not liking Roy Johnson. Did they know each other?”

“Oh yeah. Roy Johnson grew up in Gladestown. This is where he got his money to start Dynatron. He was a drug dealer back in the late seventies, early eighties.”

“Really? I can see why your father didn’t like that.”

“Not for the reasons you might be thinking. My father wasn’t all that much of a law-abiding man himself. But he told me that Roy Johnson’s operation eventually would have destroyed Gladestown and our way of life. He didn’t want that to happen.”

“And it didn’t?” Kevin asked.

“No. The feds busted everybody back in 1982. Roy, however, was long gone. That was the end of big-time smuggling in Gladestown. But there’s still some small stuff going on.”

“Did anybody go to prison?”

“Roy’s two lieutenants, Randy Winters and Bobby Joe Sellers, got twenty-plus years. They were released recently. Rosie pointed them out to me not too long ago in the restaurant. I only knew them by reputation. Everybody else just got a little time.”

It was an interesting story, and Kevin had no idea if it had anything to do with his case or not. If it did, however, he was certain he had the right man to help him navigate through that murky swamp. First, he had to have a “come to Jesus” conversation with Billy.

On the way back, Carlisle stopped at the marina for a bucket of pinfish.

“For Scotch,” he told Kevin as he set the bucket down in the boat. “I promised him I’d bring him something.”

A
t four o’clock on Sunday afternoon, Kevin stopped in at the Last Stop, the bar where bartender George Russo worked. Russo had identified Billy as the agitated patron who came to the bar every night the week before Roy Johnson was killed. Kevin wanted to eyeball him and see if he could get Russo to talk. It was Sunday so he might not be there at all, and since Russo was the night bartender, it was probably a little early to catch him, but Kevin wanted to talk to the manager too.

He sat at the bar and ordered a beer. The place was dark and somewhat dingy, although it looked clean enough. There were two people at one end of the bar staring at their drinks.

“I’m looking for George Russo,” Kevin told the bartender.

“Who?”

“George Russo.”

“Never heard of him.”

“Is your manager here?” The guy looked at Kevin as if to ask,
Do you think this place needs a bartender and a manager?

“I’m the manager,” he finally replied.

“My name is Kevin Wylie. I’m a lawyer and I represent William Fuller, the man accused of killing Roy Johnson over in Gladestown. A man named George Russo is a witness in that case and he said he worked here.”

“Oh, that bum. Yeah, he worked here for about a month, enough to get his name in the papers. Then he up and quit.”

“Really? Do you happen to know the dates that he worked here?”

“Off the top of my head—no.”

“You must have a record somewhere.”

“Listen, Mister, I’m running a bar here, not an information service.”

Kevin pulled out a fifty-dollar bill. “I’m just asking for a little information and I’m willing to pay.”

The manager stared at the fifty-dollar bill for a few seconds while he went over things in his mind. “Let me check my customers at the end of the bar, make sure they’ve got full drinks and everything, then I’ll see if I can find what you’re looking for.”

“Thanks,” Kevin said and rested the fifty on the bar next to his beer.

The manager checked on the catatonics down at the end: One pointed at his drink, indicating he wanted another. The other didn’t say a word, just kept staring at his half-full drink. Then the manager disappeared, returning ten minutes later with a notebook in his hand.

“He started working April fifth and he was gone by May sixth—a month, give or take a day. No notice. Left me hanging.”

“Did he fill out an employment application or anything?”

“I’m sure there’s some paperwork around here somewhere, but I’m not going to be able to find it now. He had good references, as I recall. He could do the job and I’d been looking for somebody for months. That’s all I can tell you.”

Kevin had a picture of Billy with him. He showed it to the bartender. “Did you ever see this man in here?”

“No. But I didn’t work nights at that time, Russo did. Now I got a real looker in here. We get a good crowd; you should come back.”

“Thanks, maybe I will. Can I get a copy of that information you just gave me?”

“For another twenty bucks you can.”

Kevin sneered at the man as he took out his wallet and made the payment.

He stopped at the Verona Inn after that, talking to the same manager Vern Fleming had grilled the month before. After identifying himself, Kevin showed the man Billy’s picture.

“Did you ever see this man before?”

“I didn’t,” the man said. “However, the police were here last week, and they interviewed everybody at the hotel and one of our chambermaids did recognize this man. She said he stayed for a week and he was very nice. That’s all I know.”

Kevin tried to figure it all out on the ride back to the hotel. It was strange that George Russo showed up days before the murder and left his job almost immediately after talking to the police. Maybe he disappeared because there was something in his background that he didn’t want to surface. Kevin wondered if he would show up for the trial. It didn’t matter anyway with the chambermaid as a witness. She would put Billy in pretty much the same location as Russo did. She hadn’t shown up in the state attorney’s files yet, probably because the police were behind in their reports. Or maybe they were just hiding her for now.

T
here were a few reporters and cameras outside the courthouse when Kevin arrived for the
Arthur
hearing. The major stations were probably waiting for the trial. Kevin usually did not like to talk to reporters or try his case in the press, but since part of his strategy was to put Roy Johnson on trial, it was never too early to start poisoning the well with the general public, from whose ranks the jury would eventually be chosen.

“My client is a family man who has never been in trouble,” he told the group of reporters and cameramen. “He is charged with killing Roy Johnson simply because he, along with twenty thousand other people, lost everything—their jobs, their pensions—when Roy Johnson raped and plundered his own company. My client is innocent of all charges.”

Having said his piece, he walked into the courthouse. Jeanette was already in the courtroom. Billy was brought in soon thereafter in prison garb and handcuffs. He sat down next to Kevin.

“How are you holding up?” Kevin asked him.

“Pretty good,” Billy replied.

“Are you ready for this?”

“Yeah. I’m prepared for the worst.”

“All rise!” the bailiff yelled as Judge Thorpe limped into the courtroom.

“Are we all set?” the judge asked.

“Yes, Your Honor,” both lawyers answered.

“Ms. Truluc, you may proceed.”

There were no surprises in Jeanette’s presentation of her case. Vern Fleming took the stand first and summarized the investigation, starting with Sylvia Johnson’s first visit to the office to report her husband missing. Vern told how Carlisle Buchanan took an airboat ride into the Everglades after learning that Roy Johnson may have taken a walk that night on Gladestown Road. Vern explained to the court that alligators crossed that road at night all the time, hence the reason for the excursion into the swamp. Jeanette then had Vern identify the two pieces of cloth and the wallet as items found on the two trips into the Glades.

She then switched gears and had Vern talk about motive, introducing through his testimony tidbits from Billy’s personnel file and his personal life: The fact that he lost $750,000 in pension money, his health insurance, his job, his wife, and his home.

Kevin listened intently but had no cross-examination. It was a very effective presentation and Kevin knew it would work well with a jury.

Freddie Jenkins followed Vern Fleming to the stand. His testimony was short and to the point, and again, Kevin had no cross-examination.

When Jeanette was finished, the judge looked at Kevin, who had not said a word during the entire proceeding. “Would you like to add something before I rule, Mr. Wylie?”

“Only this, Judge. My client is not a risk to leave the state of Florida. He has children here. He has no criminal record. There is still a presumption of innocence. Counsel has presented a totally circumstantial case. There is no direct evidence linking my client to this crime. They examined his car—nothing. There is no eyewitness identification. There isn’t even a body.

“This is within your discretion, Judge. However, the combination of no criminal record, no likelihood of flight because of his children, and no direct evidence of guilt should cause you to lean toward allowing Mr. Fuller to be released on bail.”

To Kevin’s surprise, the judge actually seemed to be listening and considering his argument. Maybe it was all a show but he reviewed his notes in detail before speaking.

“I believe the State has met its burden of showing a likelihood of success. However, it is within my discretion to set bail. Mr. Fuller is not a career criminal and his ties to the community in which he lives mitigate against him fleeing the jurisdiction of the court. But Mr. Fuller has never been charged with murder before. Mr. Fuller has never faced the possibility of death or life in prison before. That can make a man want to get up and go even when he’s never wanted to get up and go before. Therefore, I believe the more prudent approach to this issue is to deny bail at this time and set the case for trial as soon as possible.

“So let’s talk about a trial date. Mr. Wylie, do you have any depositions you want to take? Have you received all the discovery from the State?”

“I’ve received some discovery, Your Honor. I’m not sure I’ve received all of it. I’m also not sure if I want to take any depositions at this point. However, if the State will accommodate me and agree to produce witnesses within the next thirty days, I could be ready for trial in sixty days.”

The judge looked at Jeanette, who was in no mood to compromise. “I’m not sure I can agree to that, Judge.”

“Well, I’m sure,” Judge Thorpe replied. “I’m ordering that Mr. Wylie receive the entire State file within the next ten days, that all depositions be set within the next thirty days, and that the State accommodate Mr. Wylie’s schedule for those depositions. If any problems arise, I will be available to resolve them. Now, take out your calendars and let’s pick a week. From what I’ve heard here, this trial is not going to last more than that. How about the week of July eleventh?”

“That’s fine with me, Judge,” Kevin replied.

“That’s acceptable, Your Honor,” Jeanette said.

“Good. Trial is set for the week of July eleventh. Get yourselves ready, folks, because I won’t grant a continuance unless there’s a really good reason. Court is adjourned.” Judge Thorpe stood up and hobbled out of the room.