Last to die Read online

  “Yo, Theo!”

  Still no response. Working on a boat with the music blasting was enough to put Theo in another world. Since Jack didn’t own a boat, he let Theo dock his behind the house. It was perfect for Theo, who ran his bar at night, fished and slept all day on the boat. He was one of those rare friends who never seemed to age, which wasn’t to say that he didn’t look older from one year to the next. He just refused to grow up, which made him fun to have around. Sometimes.

  Theo was hosing down the deck as Jack approached. “Catch anything?” asked Jack.

  Theo kept cleaning and said, “Not a damn thing.”

  “It’s like they say: That’s why they call it fishin’, not-”

  Theo turned the hose on him, giving his suit a good splash.

  “Catchin’,” said Jack. He was dripping wet but pretended that it hadn’t happened, wiping the water from his face.

  “You know, Swyteck, sometimes you are just so full of-”

  “Wisdom?”

  “Yeah. That’s exactly what I was gonna say. Wisdom.”

  “I guess it takes a real genius to taunt an ex-con who’s holding a garden hose,” said Jack as he brushed the water from his pinstripes.

  Theo climbed out of the boat, smiled, and gave Jack a bear hug so big that his feet left the ground. Theo had the height of an NBA all star, the brawn of a football linebacker.

  Jack took a step back, surprised. “What’s that for?”

  “Happy Anniversary, buddy.”

  Jack wasn’t sure how Theo knew, but he figured he must have mentioned something to him about the one-year milestone. “I wouldn’t exactly call it a happy anniversary.”

  “Aw, come on. You gonna hold a grudge because I splashed you with a little water?”

  “Exactly what anniversary are you talking about?” asked Jack.

  “What anniversary are you talking about?”

  “It was a year ago today that Cindy and I separated.”

  “Cindy? Who the hell gives a rat’s ass about her? I was talking about us.”

  “Us?”

  “Yes. Ten years ago this week. You and me met for the first time. Remember?”

  Jack thought for a second. “Not really.”

  “Now you’re hurtin’ my feelings. I remember everything about it. It was a Friday morning. Guard comes and gets me from my cell, tells me I have a meetin’ with my new court-appointed lawyer from the Freedom Institute. Of course, I’m sittin’ on death row without a damn thing to do, except lay there and ask myself, ‘Theo, would you like the mustard sauce or drawn butter with your last meal of stone crabs and fried sweet potatoes?’ So I’m bouncin’ off the walls at the thought of a new lawyer. So I go down, and there you are, sittin’ on the other side of the glass.”

  “What did you think when you saw me?”

  “Honestly?”

  “Honestly.”

  “Typical white Ivy League graduate with a save-the-black-man guilt complex.”

  “Gee. And all this time I thought I’d made a lousy first impression.”

  Theo narrowed his eyes, as if quizzing him. “Remember the first thing I said to you?”

  “Probably something along the lines of ‘Got any money, dude?’”

  “No, smart ass. I looked you right in the eye and said, ‘Jack, there’s something you need to know right up front: I am an innocent man.’”

  “I do remember that.”

  “And do you remember what you said?”

  “No.”

  “You said, ‘Mr. Knight’-you called me Mr. Knight back then-‘there’s something you need to know right up-front: I think you’re a big, fat, fucking liar.’”

  “Did I really say that?”

  “Oh, yeah. Exact quote.”

  “Wow. You must have thought I was an asshole.”

  “I still think you’re an asshole.”

  “Thanks.”

  Theo smiled, then grabbed him by the shoulders and planted a big kiss on his cheek. “Happy Anniversary. Asshole.”

  Jack smiled. Theo and his kisses. A last-minute release from death row for a crime you truly didn’t commit could make you want to hug everyone for the rest of your life. Or it could have the opposite effect. It all depended on the man.

  Theo said, “Grab that cooler, will ya’?”

  Jack took it by the handles, and Theo gathered up the fishing poles with the other gear. Empty bottles rattled inside the cooler as the men crossed the lawn to the driveway. Theo popped the trunk. Jack put the cooler inside, then helped Theo break down the poles and mount them on the roof rack.

  “Anything else?” asked Jack.

  “Yeah, actually. I need a favor. Big one.”

  “What?”

  “Did you happen to see that story in the local section a few days ago? That rich woman who got shot in the head while waiting on the red light to get on the expressway?”

  “I might have skimmed it. I’ve been in trial too long. Not seeing much news.”

  Theo opened the car door, pulled something from the console, and handed it to Jack. It was a newspaper clipping. “Read this.”

  There were only a few paragraphs with a photo of the victim. Jack read quickly. “Sad.”

  “Is that all you can say?”

  “It’s sad. What more can I say?”

  “You could look at her picture and say, damn, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.”

  “Okay, she’s beautiful. Does that mean I should be sadder?”

  “Yes, Mr. Politically Correct, it does make it sadder. That’s what everyone wants to be. Young, rich, beautiful. And now she’s dead. Doesn’t get any sadder than that.”

  “Theo, where are you headed with this?”

  “Did you read how much she was worth?”

  “Yeah. Something like…whatever it said.”

  He took back the clipping and pointed to the figure. “Forty-six million.”

  Jack read it again. “That’s a lotta dough.”

  “Damn straight. Now, this is not a trick question, but I want you to try and guess when was the last time a bona fide babe worth forty-six million dollars came walking into my bar.”

  “You saw her in Sparky’s?”

  “About two and a half weeks ago.”

  “What was she doing there?”

  “Talking to a contract killer.”

  “A what?”

  “You heard me.”

  “You mean she was meeting with someone who kills people for money?”

  “I don’t mean someone who shoots contracts for a living.”

  Jack scratched his head, thinking. “You sure it was her?”

  “You think I’m gonna forget a face like that?” he said, showing the photo once more.

  Jack saw his point. “So, she talks to a contract killer, and two weeks later, she’s the one who turns up dead.”

  “That’s right,” said Theo.

  “What do you make of that?”

  “Smells bad.”

  “I’ll give you that,” said Jack. “But what do you want me to do?”

  “First off, there’s a letter I want to ask you about. It’s from the dead woman’s lawyer.”

  “Written to you?”

  “No. To the contract killer she was talking to in my bar.”

  “You have the letter?”

  “No. I seen it.”

  “How?”

  “Never mind that. Let’s just say I’m acting as a go-between here.”

  “What exactly are you going between?”

  Theo grabbed a pack of Kools from his dashboard, then lit one.

  “You and…you know.”

  “The contract killer? No way.”

  “Hear me out. The whole letter is two sentences long. It simply tells him to be in the law offices of Vivien Grasso Monday for an important meeting about the death of Sally Fenning.”

  “So, you want me to advise a contract killer whether he should go to this meeting or not?”
/>   “No. I want you to go with him.”

  Jack coughed, as if choking with disbelief. “What makes you think I’d be even remotely interested in that?”

  “Because I asked.”

  “Why are you asking?”

  Theo took a drag from his cigarette, blowing smoke as he spoke. “Because I think this boy’s in a mess of trouble.”

  “Is he a friend of yours?”

  “Not in the least.”

  “Then give me one good reason why I should walk into another lawyer’s office representing a contract killer.”

  “First of all, except for me and maybe a few badasses between here and Las Vegas, no one knows he’s a contract killer.”

  “Give me another good reason.”

  “Because you’re my buddy.”

  “Hmmmm.”

  “Because I’ve been playing payback ever since you got me off death row, and I ain’t never asked you for nothin’ in return.”

  “Okay. We’re getting there. But lay another one on me.”

  Theo lowered his eyes, as if reluctant to answer. Finally, he looked at Jack and said in a quiet, serious tone, “Because he’s my brother.”

  Jack, too, turned serious.

  “So, you’ll meet with him?” asked Theo.

  Jack didn’t answer right away, but there was never any doubt what his answer would be. “Sure,” he said. “For you, I’ll meet with him.”

  Four

  He looked a lot like Theo, was Jack’s first impression. Theo in his badass mode.

  Jack met Theo’s brother “Tatum” in the sunny courtyard outside the downtown public library. He was dressed semi-casual, a sport jacket with no tie, as if Theo had told him to try to look respectable. The jacket looked a little tight in the shoulders, a common problem for muscular men who bought off the rack. It was the lunch hour, and plenty of people were seated at the tables around them in the shade of broad white umbrellas. Some were reading, some were talking and sharing lunch with friends, a few were shooing away pesky pigeons. Tables were far enough apart to keep anyone from overhearing their conversation. It wasn’t the normal setting for an attorney-client meeting, but a hit man wasn’t exactly a normal client. Jack wasn’t worried, but he’d nonetheless followed his instincts and set up the meeting not in the solitude of his law office but in a public place with lots of potential witnesses. Just in case.

  “Good to see you again, Mack.”

  “It’s Jack,” he said as they shook hands.

  “Sorry.”

  Just what the world needs, thought Jack. A hit man who doesn’t know Jack from Mack.

  They sat on opposite sides of the table. Jack had arrived early and had already finished his chicken salad on pita. There was no table service, and Jack offered to wait while Tatum went through the line, but he declined, seemingly eager to get started.

  “How long’s it been?” asked Tatum. “Ten years?”

  “Eight. Since Theo’s release from prison.”

  “I assume Theo’s filled you in as to my goings-on since then.”

  “Probably more than you would have liked.”

  “And you’re okay with it?”

  “Let me put it this way. I’m here because Theo asked me for a favor.”

  “But you’re my lawyer, right? Everything we say is, you know-”

  “Privileged, yes.”

  “You gonna eat that pickle?” he said, pointing to Jack’s plate.

  “Help yourself.”

  Tatum grabbed it, bit off the tip, wagged the rest of it like an extra finger as he spoke. “Now, Theo did tell you that I’m not in the contract line of work anymore, didn’t he?”

  “He said as far as he knew, you hadn’t done a job in three years.”

  “That’s the truth,” he said, pronouncing it like troot. “That makes you feel better about this, right?”

  “Look, my typical client is not a nun. I’ve even defended people who’d killed for money, just like you. I’m not judging you. I’m doing a friend a favor.”

  “Theo says you’re good.”

  “Good enough to get an innocent man off death row.”

  “That’s not as easy as it sounds. Especially when everyone thought he was guilty.”

  “Everyone except his lawyer.”

  “And his brother,” said Tatum.

  “And his brother,” said Jack, acknowledging it. “You were there, standing right with him.”

  “I was the only one who stood by him.”

  “Maybe this is his way of saying thank you. You got thirty minutes.”

  Tatum popped the rest of his pickle into his mouth. “Where should we start?”

  “Let’s start with Sally Fenning. How did you two hook up?”

  “You gonna finish those chips?” he said, poking at Jack’s plate.

  “Go for ’em.”

  He spoke with a mouthful of Ruffles. “She called me.”

  “Out of the blue?”

  “Yeah. Totally.”

  “She had to get your number somehow. What did she do, look in the Yellow Pages under ‘Problem Solvers’?”

  “I got no idea how she found me.”

  “Stop the bullshit, or your free thirty minutes are over.”

  He was looking for a napkin to wipe his greasy fingers, then just licked them, one by one. “Friend of a friend hooked us up.”

  “Which friend?”

  Tatum leaned back, crossed one leg over the other. Jack felt a digression coming on.

  Tatum said, “I don’t know how much you know about this woman, but she had some problems in her past.”

  “You mean she was in trouble with the law?”

  “No, not like that. Emotional problems. She was attacked, or something, I don’t know exactly. But she hired a bodyguard every now and then, when she was feeling scared, for whatever the reason. Anyway, her bodyguard knew me.”

  “He called you?”

  “No, we was playing pool together one night.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Said, ‘I got a client who wants to get in touch with you. Can I give her your number?’ I said sure.”

  “What did you think it was all about?”

  “Probably she needed me to beat the shit out of somebody.”

  “I thought you said you were out of the contract business.”

  “I don’t do hits anymore. Puttin’ people in the hospital, that’s another story.”

  “You’re okay with serious bodily injury, but you draw the line at murder. Is that it?”

  “Somethin’ like that. To be honest, it’s more about the money.”

  “I’m not sure I follow you.”

  “It’s a tough business in Miami. These days, you got Colombians, Russians, Jamaicans, Arabs, Israelis, Cubans, Italians, Nicaraguans-everybody and his brother willing to do a job for a measly five hundred bucks. How’s a guy supposed to make a living?”

  “Join the union?”

  “You think this is a joke? This is business, pal, and it’s like everything else these days. You specialize. In my case, I turned myself into the guy who knows how to inflict just the right amount of pain, someone who can get results without killing the goose that lays the golden egg. That’s a real skill. And it pays real money.”

  “So, you’re a shakedown specialist.”

  “No. I’m in the art business.”

  “The art of what? Face rearrangement?”

  He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “The art of persuasion.”

  His glare tightened, as if he were trying to give Jack some sense of just how persuasive he could be. Jack didn’t flinch. “So, Sally Fenning wanted to make use of your persuasive powers?”

  He settled back in his chair, taking some of the edge off. “That was my first impression.”

  “And you went to meet her?”

  “Right. I told her to meet me at Sparky’s.”

  “Why there?”

  “I always meet in a public place. Keeps the unexpected fro
m happening.”

  “But why Theo’s bar?”

  “He’s my brother. He hates what I do for a living, sometimes he even threatens to throw my ass out. But if I go to Theo’s, I can be sure of one thing: Ain’t no nosy bartender gonna be listening in on my conversation. Theo don’t want to hear none of it. Can’t be so sure of my privacy if I go to some other bar.”

  “Okay. You got to Theo’s bar. Then what?”

  “She wanted to hire me.”

  “To do what?”

  “Like I says before. I thought she wanted me to work some guy over.”

  “But that wasn’t it?”

  “No. She wanted someone dead.”

  “Who?”

  He chuckled to himself. “This is where it gets…strange.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “She wanted me to shoot her.”

  Jack hesitated. He’d heard plenty of strange stories in his career, but this one was up there. “Would you call that an unusual request?”

  “Not unheard of. But yeah, like I said, strange.”

  “Why would a person hire someone else to kill them? Why not just go home and stick your head in the oven?”

  “You kiddin’ me? People always got their reasons. Buddy of mine did a guy once who lost big bucks in the stock market. Millions. Couldn’t go on, but he didn’t want his wife and kids to think he was a coward. So he hires a hit man to make his death look like a drive-by shooting. Worked like a charm. You should have read the obituary,” he said with a chuckle. “All about how much poor, departed John loved life.”

  “Is that what Sally was concerned about? What other people would think?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Did you shoot her?”

  He looked away, laughing.

  Jack stuck with it and asked again, “Did you shoot her?”

  Tatum’s smile faded. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I told you: I don’t do that anymore.”

  “Did you tell her that?”

  “Told her lots of things. Mostly I told her she was being stupid. She’s a knockout, obviously loaded with money. I says, this is crazy. Get help, lady. This ain’t like changing your hair color or even gettin’ your tits done. You can’t go back. Know what I mean?”

  “Is that how you left it, then? She asked you to shoot her, you said no?”