The Alligator Man (30 page)

J
eanette called him on Wednesday afternoon.

“We got the search warrant yesterday. They’re executing it today,” she told him.

Kevin’s mind was somewhere else but he did acknowledge the good news. “That’s great. Will you let me know what they find?”

“Sure. I’ll give you a call either later today or tomorrow. How’s your dad?”

Kevin couldn’t get the words out right away. There was an awkward silence before he could finally speak.

“He died this morning.”

“Oh, Kevin, I’m so sorry. We don’t have to talk about this now.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I need to keep my mind occupied.”

Another pause. “Listen,” Jeanette finally said. “I’m going to be in St. Albans tomorrow afternoon on business. Would you like to have an early dinner tomorrow night?”

“Sure.”

They met at seven the next night at a quaint little Italian restaurant on the outskirts of town. Jeanette wore a white summer dress.

“You look very pretty tonight,” he told her.

“Thank you,” she said.

They had some wine and both ordered pasta for dinner.

Jeanette could see the weariness on his face. It had been a difficult trial, and now this. She felt badly for him. They certainly had their differences along the way, but they had been through a war together and she had come to respect him as a person. Perhaps the evening could be a brief respite for him. Besides, she had some good news.

“I’m curious,” Kevin told her. “And I hope this isn’t too personal. Why does a prosecutor from Verona have so much business in St. Albans?”

Jeanette smiled. “Good question. I gave my notice at work. My parents are getting too old and I need to be closer to them. Maybe not in the same town but St. Albans is close enough. I’ve been looking for office space.”

“Are you going to open your own shop?”

“Yes. Nothing fancy. I’d like to be a sole practitioner doing a general practice, mostly civil litigation, maybe a little criminal. I don’t want to go from being a prosecutor to being a defense attorney—no offense.”

“None taken. I agree with you. I plan on doing pretty much the same thing.”

“Really? You’re opening your own shop in Miami?”

“I’m not going back to Miami. I’m taking over my father’s practice here in St. Albans.”

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious. And I’ve got some vacant office space if you’re interested.”

It was Jeanette’s turn to smile as she sipped her red wine. It was from Australia, full-bodied and dry.

“I’ll think about it,” she said. “Now I’ve got some other really good news for you.”

“What’s that?”

Just then the waiter brought their entrees. They took a few moments to assist him in retrieving empty plates and setting down the new ones. Then Jeanette answered his question.

“The FBI went to Bernie’s warehouse to execute the search warrant and they found the original files just as you surmised they would. They’ve got the original memo with everybody’s signature on it.”

“That’s great. Have they made any arrests?”

“They picked Randy Winters up for questioning and he’s started to talk. I guess when they mentioned that humane little cocktail they give to you on death row up there in Starke penitentiary, Randy decided to tell them everything he knew.”

“And you made me wait all night for this?”

“We were enjoying ourselves.”

“Okay, tell me the story.”

“Well, I guess Roy Johnson had these bodyguards who were ex-CIA guys or something like that. You already know this next part: Your client was down in Gladestown for several days, driving to Roy Johnson’s house every night around eleven, staking him out. The bodyguards saw him the first night. They wanted to shoot him but Roy stopped them. He called Bernie and that’s when they got the idea they might be able to use him.

“Roy was going to be indicted, there was no doubt about it,” Jeanette continued. “And they were going to make an example of him. Give him a stiff criminal penalty so it would look like the courts and the system meted out justice equally. Anyway, that’s where your client came in.

“They weren’t sure how they were going to use him, but they followed Billy to Verona that first night and they had a guy in a position to watch him.”

“George Russo?” Kevin interrupted.

“Yeah. You were mostly right about him. It was coincidence that he just started the week before Johnson disappeared. However, after the bodyguards followed Billy back to the Last Stop where he got a nightcap before going to bed, they gave George Russo a little incentive to go to work for them. He monitored Billy’s comings and goings. He called them on the Sunday night that Johnson disappeared to tell them Billy had left the bar. After Johnson’s men made him go to the police with his story, he quit the bar, thinking he could just disappear. But they found him and brought him back for the trial. He hasn’t been seen since.

“They knew all about Freddie and Becky up there in the parking lot. Those two had been going there for months. They only needed one eyewitness for the setup, so on the night of the murder, they had their own ‘Becky’ call Freddie and tell him to meet her. Freddie was sitting there, his eyes glued to the road, looking for Becky, when the murder occurred.”

“Wow, this was quite an operation.”

“Oh, I’m not done yet,” Jeanette said. “Roy Johnson had noticed one of the illegals from the migrant camp walking on Gladestown Road in the evening almost as regularly as he did, and the man was always drunk. He was the last piece of the puzzle. They set their ‘murder’ plan in motion as soon as he left the migrant camp that night. They put Freddie in place in the parking lot and then one of the security guards drove a car that looked just like Billy’s right down Gladestown Road, knocking the poor bastard into the swamp. Freddie had a bird’s-eye view. By the time Billy showed up—about fifteen minutes later—it was all over. Freddie had already gone home.

“The next morning Sylvia Johnson reported her husband missing and gave a description to Carlisle of the exact clothing the migrant worker was wearing. Of course, the worker wore a white T-shirt and cheap shorts and Sylvia had to upgrade those clothes, but it was the colors that were important. Freddie couldn’t see the quality of the clothing, only the colors.”

“So the gators really did eat somebody?”

“No. They couldn’t take a chance that any part of the body would be found. Winters and Sellers were hiding in a small boat in the swamp. They pulled what was left of the body out after Freddie drove home. It’s buried a hundred miles out in the Gulf somewhere, anchored down by concrete blocks.

“Winters and Sellers planted the pieces of Johnson’s clothing. They were counting on Sylvia Johnson to get Carlisle to search the swamp. They put the piece of black cloth in an obvious spot where they knew Carlisle would see it. Once he found the clothing, they went back and planted the wallet.”

“How did they know Billy wasn’t going to shoot Johnson on one of those earlier days?” Kevin asked.

“They didn’t. There was no risk of Johnson getting shot if that’s what you’re asking. Winters said there was a sniper on Billy every step of the way. If he made any move that remotely looked like he was going to shoot Johnson, he’d have been dead.”

“Wow!”

“Yeah. And the plan would have worked if it hadn’t been for whoever it was who found Johnson and brought him back.”

“You don’t know who it was?”

“Nobody knows. The feds figure it had to be somebody very strong, who knew the water like the back of his hand, and who could move as silently as an Indian. Do you know anybody like that?”

She had a smile on her face when she asked the question, like she knew something but she wasn’t telling.

Kevin returned the smile. “Haven’t a clue,” he told her.

“That’s what I thought you’d say. I guess the identity of that person will just have to remain a mystery.”

“Did Winters say who killed David Lefter?” Kevin asked.

“Yeah. He said Sellers did it at Bernie’s direction. He said Sellers killed Scotch Buchanan too.”

“Where’s Bernie?”

“I don’t know. They haven’t picked him up yet.”

“And Sellers? Did they find him?”

“Nope. There are literally hundreds of islands south of Gladestown. Winters says he’s out there somewhere. I don’t think we’ll ever see him again.”

I
t seemed like the entire city of St. Albans was at the wake the following Thursday night. Kevin was there with Kate greeting people as they came. It was a difficult transition for him but he had no choice. The people came from all walks of life. One of them was a distinguished-looking, elderly black man with white hair who walked with the aid of a cane. Kate knew him. She gave him a hug and he asked her to introduce him to Kevin.

“This is Reginald Porter, Kevin. He’s an old friend your dad represented years ago.”

The name sounded vaguely familiar but Kevin couldn’t place it.

“I read about your trial down there in Verona. You’re just like your daddy,” Reginald Porter said. “You don’t give up.” At one time that statement would have made him bristle. Now Kevin felt proud.

“He represented me when nobody would. They said I raped a white woman. They were gonna kill me sure as I’m standing here now.” The old man pulled up his right shirtsleeve revealing his bare arm.

“I wanted you to see the hair on my arm stand straight up when I say the name Tom Wylie.”

Kevin looked at the man’s forearm, and sure enough, the hairs on his arm were standing straight up.

“That was over forty years ago, but it still happens,” he said, his face stone-cold serious. “His dying won’t change that. Your daddy was some kind of man, son. Some kind of man.”

Ray Blackwell came by as Kevin was finishing his conversation with Reginald Porter. “I don’t think your father would be all that crazy about people making such a fuss over him. What do you think?”

“Oh, I think he’d say he didn’t like it. Then he’d start looking around taking mental notes of who didn’t show up.”

Ray Blackwell started laughing. “You’re absolutely right. You got to know him pretty damn well in that short time, didn’t you?”

“Maybe better than anybody I’ve ever known. You were right, Judge. I stayed, we got to the truth, and my time with my dad truly changed my life.”

“He was one of a kind,” the judge said. “And I loved him dearly.”

Kevin was surprised when Jeanette arrived with an elderly man. He spotted her as she walked in the door and wondered why she was there. He found out soon enough.

“Kevin, this is my father, Jean Truluc.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Truluc. Thank you for coming.”

“Hello, Kevin. I asked Jeanette to drive me here because I needed to come to pay my respects and I wanted to tell you personally how much I admired your father. He was a giant in the civil rights movement in Florida.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Jeanette wore a black dress with a gold necklace and cross and her hair was down. She looked magnificent.

Kevin introduced Mr. Truluc and Jeanette to Kate.

“It is so very nice to meet both of you,” Kate said. “And Mr. Truluc, you should know that Tom had so much respect for you and the work you are doing at the university.”

Mr. Truluc smiled. “Thank you for saying that.”

“That special someone has arrived, hasn’t she?” Kate said to Kevin as Jeanette and her father walked toward the casket to pay their respects.

“What are you talking about?” Kevin asked.

“I saw the way you two looked at each other.”

Kevin laughed. “I think you’re misinterpreting things. We just got done throwing darts at each other in court.”

“I don’t think so. I’m part Indian, you know. I can see and feel what’s not always visible to the naked eye.”

“I noticed,” he told her. “How did you know Dad was gone?”

“I felt him come to me.”

“Maybe that’s what I felt too. We’re the only family that we have now.”

“Yes, we are,” Kate said as she hugged him. “And I want some grandbabies—not right away, but someday.”

The funeral was the next morning at eleven o’clock. Kevin was surprised once again when he saw Jeanette standing in the vestibule. He walked over to her.

“My father wanted to come,” she explained, “but my mother is very sick. I told him I would represent the family.”

Father Eddie O’Brien conducted the funeral service and he gave a memorable sermon, cracking the crowd up with stories of his antics with Tom and Kate and “an unnamed supreme court justice.”

Ray Blackwell, Kevin, and Kate laughed along in the first row.

Eddie O’Brien finished on a slightly somber note.

“I believe our task in life, simply put, is to pick up our cross, for we all have crosses to bear, and to carry it on that long journey through life, and along the way to find God within ourselves. Tom was not what one would call a religious man, but he was honest and humble and real. He loved his fellow man and he showed it by his deeds. Sometimes, reaching out for others can cause your own journey to be more difficult. And so it was with Tom. He never complained, though. And, at the end, when you saw him with Kate and Kevin, and felt the love among them, and when you look around this church at so many friends touched by this man in some way, you know that Tom’s journey to God was complete.”

Kevin looked across the main aisle of the church and saw Jack Tobin sitting on the other side with Henry Wilson. Both men had their hands over their faces, trying to shield the world from their feelings.

Sitting in that pew, watching those two men, and listening to Father O’Brien’s words, Kevin finally understood. By coming back to St. Albans to confront his dad, he’d found out who his father was, and in the process, he’d found himself. That gut-wrenching pain he felt in the courtroom when Billy’s life was on the line was the pain of living and caring for other people. It was his father’s legacy to him.

J
eanette had accrued several weeks of vacation time and she decided to take some of it after giving her notice. That prompted Kevin to leave work every day at two and make the short trip to Tallahassee to see her. They went jogging or bicycle riding or caught a movie and generally got to know each other in a setting other than a courtroom. Like the other parts of his life that had recently become so clear, Kevin started to see Jeanette as the woman for him. He didn’t know if she felt the same way.

A couple of weeks later, on a Friday, Kevin got his answer. He took the whole day off and picked her up at ten. They went out for coffee, then for a long run in the park. It was still hot and they were both sweating profusely when they were done. Following their usual routine, they went back to the house to shower.

Jeanette’s father had taken her mother to Jacksonville for some tests at the Mayo Clinic that morning so Jeanette set him up in the shower in her room.

“I’ll use my parents’ shower,” she told him.

She must have changed her mind about the arrangement because halfway through Kevin’s shower she joined him. There was no need for an explanation; she just put her arms around him and kissed him softly on the lips.

Later, after they made love and lay together on her bed, she shared her plans with him.

“I think I’ll take that office space you have for rent in St. Albans.”

Kevin sat up in the bed, a huge smile on his face. “Don’t you want to know how much?” he asked playfully.

“When people are
simpatico
, they don’t let minor obstacles like rent get in the way of their decisions,” she told him.

They both laughed and put their arms around each other and hugged and kissed and for the moment were happier than two people had a right to be.

The next day they drove down to St. Albans together. Kevin showed Jeanette around the office and introduced her to his father’s secretary, Jan, who was now his secretary.

“Jeanette is going to be working with us,” Kevin told Jan.

After the office, they went to the house and continued the tour.

“This fireplace is beautiful,” Jeanette said as they passed through the living room.

“You know, there’s plenty of room here,” he told her.

She looked at him and smiled. “I can see that there is,” she said. “We’re already moving pretty fast. We need to get to know each other a little better before we move in together, don’t you think?”

Kevin kissed her softly. “I guess you’re right,” he said. “I’ll just have to wait.”

When they went upstairs, he showed her his father’s den.

“Certainly enough pictures of you,” Jeanette remarked. Then she eyed the drawer in the middle of the table.

“This is like the old kitchen tables with the drawer in the middle for the silverware,” she said, opening the drawer. That’s when she saw the Glock and picked it up.

“Be careful with that,” Kevin said. “It’s loaded. My father wanted me to carry it after David Lefter was killed, but I refused.”

“He gave you good advice,” Jeanette told him. “This is the exact model that I have.”

“Oh, the one you use at the pistol range when you hit the target ten out of ten times?”

“That’s the one.”

“Boy, you gave me a message that day. Keep my distance.”

Jeanette smiled as she hugged him. “I didn’t know you very well then, honey.”

They spent that night together in the upstairs bedroom. After they made love, Jeanette rested her head on Kevin’s chest and fell asleep. He had never felt more peaceful and content than he was at that moment.

The next morning he rose early and bounded downstairs. He wanted to surprise her with breakfast in bed. A little after eight, when the bacon was cooked and the home fries were almost done, as he was about to put the eggs on, there was a knock on the front door.

Kevin started to open the door, wondering who could be calling so early. Suddenly there was a shove from the other side, and Bernie and Vic were in the room before Kevin knew what had happened.

“Good morning, Counselor,” Bernie said. “Vic and I were just in the neighborhood and thought we’d pay you a visit and thank you for setting the feds on us.”

Vic pulled out a gun from underneath his coat.

Kevin knew what was coming now. He backed away from the door into the living room.

“So even at this late date, Bernie, you’re having Vic do your dirty work,” Kevin said. “Vic, are you going to hold his pecker for him when you’re both in the joint?”

Vic raised his pistol, but Bernie stopped him with his arm.

“I’m not going anywhere, kid,” Bernie replied. “I got the best lawyer in the country. Remember?”

“Oh, you’re going, Bernie, and you know it. Why else would you be here?”

Bernie smiled and pulled out his own gun, a small Beretta type.

“You got me on that one, kid. That’s why I’m gonna personally blow you away for what you did.”

Jeanette was in the light stages of sleep when she heard the voices downstairs. One of them was clearly Kevin’s. Another sounded vaguely familiar. She got up from the bed and walked toward the landing, which looked down on the living room. She saw Kevin come into view, followed by Bernie Stang and another man. Then she saw the gun in the other man’s hand. That woke her up.

Jeanette retreated quickly but quietly to the den and grabbed the Glock from the middle drawer. By the time she got back to the landing, Bernie was raising his arm to fire point-blank at Kevin. There was no time for conversation. There was only one move to make and she had to do it instantly.

She fired the Glock several times. Even though Jeanette had all that training at the gun range, it was a lot harder aiming at a human being. Most of the shots missed their mark. Only one caught Bernie in the right arm, but it was sufficient to knock him down and force him to drop his gun. As soon as the shots were fired, however, Vic turned in her direction and pointed his gun directly at her. Kevin saw the move. He was on Vic before he could get a shot off, pile-driving him into the far wall. Vic’s head hit the wall so hard he was unconscious at impact. Kevin picked Vic’s gun up off the floor and aimed it at Bernie, as he took his cell phone from his pocket and cradled it in his left hand and called 911.

“This is so unlike you, Bernie,” Kevin said to his old boss after he had given the 911 operator all the necessary information. “You usually play it smart. I expected you to be out of the country by now.”

Bernie was conscious but not moving. Blood was pouring from his right arm and he was clutching it trying to stem the flow. Kevin kicked his gun far enough away so he couldn’t get at it. Jeanette had descended from upstairs almost in a daze. The Glock was still in her hand, although it was pointed at the floor. Her right arm hung listlessly by her side as she stood by Kevin.

“I couldn’t get out.” Bernie almost whispered the words in a voice that seemed to be gasping for air. “All the airports and marinas were under surveillance. Had to head north. Have a friend in Pensacola with a plane.”

Kevin was surprised that Bernie had actually answered him. It had been a stupid move for him to make this stop, a move fueled by anger and a lust for revenge. Maybe he just needed to try to explain it away.

“But you couldn’t just drive by here, could you? You had to stop.”

Bernie didn’t answer.

Vic was starting to wake up, but Kevin could hear the sirens in the background. In a few minutes it would be all over. He put his left arm around Jeanette, and they both took a few steps back so they were far enough away from both men in case one of them tried to make a move.

A few seconds later, there were several hard raps on the front door. Kevin laid his gun on the coffee table. He gently removed the gun from Jeanette’s hand and placed it on the table next to his. She had not said a word since firing the first shot and still appeared to be in a trance.

“The door’s open,” Kevin yelled and the cops burst in the room, their guns held high.