John Grisham - The Whistler

A nurse removed stitches as Ann prattled on about the gossip down in Clearwater. A physical therapist arrived for half an hour of stretching and he gave Lacy a chart of exercises to work on every day at home. When Gunther returned, he had a sackful of deli sandwiches and the urgent news that he must get home. After an hour with his mother, he couldn’t wait to leave the hospital. After four days with him, Lacy needed a break.

He was wiping tears as he said good-bye. He begged Lacy to call him for anything, especially if slimeballs like insurance adjusters and ambulance-chasing lawyers came slithering around. He knew exactly how to handle such people. On the way out, he gave his mother a perfunctory peck on the cheek, and he was gone. Lacy closed her eyes and enjoyed the silence for a long time.

–

The following day, Tuesday, an orderly rolled her out of the hospital and helped her into Ann’s car. She was perfectly capable of making the walk herself, but the hospital had its rules. Fifteen minutes later, Ann parked in the lot beside Lacy’s building. Lacy looked at it and said, “Only eight days ago, but it seems like a month.”

Ann said, “I’ll get the crutches.”

“I don’t need crutches, Mom, and I’m not using them.”

“But the physical therapist said-”

“Please. He’s not here, and I know what I can do.”

She walked without a limp into her apartment. Simon, her British neighbor, was waiting. He had been caring for Frankie, the Frenchie, and when Lacy saw her dog she slowly bent to her knees and grabbed him.

“How do I look?” Lacy asked Simon.

“Well, pretty good, I’d say, in spite of it all. I suppose things could be worse.”

“You should’ve seen me a week ago.”

“It’s good seeing you now, Lacy. We’ve been quite worried.”

“Let’s have some tea.”

It was exhilarating to be out of the hospital, and Lacy chattered away as Simon and Ann listened and laughed. The conversation stayed clear of Hugo and the accident. There would be enough of that later. Lacy hit her stride telling Gunther stories, all of which seemed even funnier now that he was gone.

Ann kept saying, “His father raised him, not me.”

Throughout the afternoon, Lacy called friends, napped off and on, stretched and exercised precisely as told, laid off the painkillers, nibbled on nuts and fruit bars, and looked at a few of her work files.

At 4:00 p.m., Michael arrived for a meeting and Ann went to the nearest mall. Claiming to have a stiff back, Michael said he needed to stay on his feet. So he paced, back and forth along the wide front window of her apartment, walking and talking, a man troubled by his thoughts. “Are you sure you don’t want to take a leave of absence?” he asked. “We can cover your salary for thirty days.”

“And what would I do for thirty days around here, Michael? Pull my hair out just as it starts sprouting?”

“You need the rest. The doctors said so.”

“Forget it,” she said bluntly. “I’m not calling time-out. I’ll be at the office next week, scars and all.”

“That’s what I figured. Have you talked to Verna?”

“No. You discouraged it, remember?”

“Right. Nothing has changed since Sunday. She’s out of money, of course, no surprise there, and eager to collect the life insurance.”

“You know his salary, Michael. They were living week to week. Can we help in some way?”

“I don’t think so. None of us are exactly overpaid. Plus, it’s a big family. She’ll survive until the checks arrive. Long term, though, it’s going to be rough with four kids and half a salary.”

“Unless the lawsuits work.”

“A big unknown.” He stopped for a sip of water. She was reclining on the sofa, exhausted after her first few hours of freedom. He said, “We have two weeks, Lacy. Two weeks to either serve the complaint on McDover or let it lapse. Do you still want the case or should I give it to Justin?”

“It’s mine, Michael, all mine, especially now.”

“Why am I not surprised? Frankly, I don’t think Justin is quite ready for it, nor does he want it. Can’t blame him for that.”

“I’m keeping it.”

“Fine, then do you have a plan? As it now stands, the complaint, signed by our pal Greg Myers, who is in hiding and had better remain so, alleges bribery in the form of the ownership of four condos in Rabbit Run, properties given to McDover by developers in return for favorable rulings. The complaint has very few specifics and no evidence. It gives the names of the foreign companies that are the official owners, but we have no way of proving that she is involved in the background. We can walk in with subpoenas and take her files and records and such, but I seriously doubt we’ll learn much. If the criminal activity is as sophisticated as Myers says it is, then I find it difficult to believe McDover would leave any of her dirty records where they might be found. So, it’s probably best to save the subpoenas for later. McDover will lawyer up and bring in more legal talent than I care to think about. It will become a slugfest where every move we make is hotly contested by the other side. And, in the end, there’s an excellent chance McDover can prove that she purchased the condos as investments, something not unheard of in Florida.”

“You don’t sound too enthused, Michael.”

“I’m never enthused by one of our cases, but we really have no choice. By now both of us believe Myers. We believe what’s in the complaint and we believe his other stories of wholesale corruption, money laundering, bribery, not to mention murder.”

“Well, now that you mentioned murder, let’s talk about it. There was a gang involved, Michael. First, the informant who lured us to a spot deep inside the reservation, then vanished in mid-sentence. Second, the guy driving the truck. Third, his partner who joined him at the scene, took our cell phones, then gave him a ride in the getaway car. Add the guy who stole the truck. Somebody tampered with the seat belts and air bags in my car. So if you have that many foot soldiers there must be a brain or two calling the shots. That adds up to a gang. If we assume it’s Dubose, and I’m at a loss to give you the name of another suspect, then it sounds like the type of violence that’s right down his alley. Hugo was murdered, Michael, and we can’t solve it. I doubt seriously if the Tappacola can either.”

“Are you suggesting the FBI?”

“You and I both know that’s where it’s going, eventually. The question is when. If we invite them to the party now, then we run the risk of alienating Greg Myers, who’s still the most important player here because of the mole. If Myers gets mad and disappears, we lose a source that cannot be replaced. A great source who might possibly one day break the case. So we wait. We serve the complaint and McDover will lawyer up as you say, but she will not know what we know. She and Dubose will assume that we believe poor Hugo was killed by a drunk driver and I got hit in the cross fire. They’ll assume we know nothing about her fondness for private jets, expensive travel, trips to New York, Singapore, Barbados, you name it. They will not have a clue that we suspect Phyllis Turban even exists. All we have is this one rather lame little complaint signed by a guy they’ve never heard of and can’t find.”

“So why do we bother with it?” Michael asked. She was definitely back, her mind clicking right along. Post-concussion, post-swelling, there obviously was no damage. As always, she raked in the facts quicker than anyone and looked around corners for the big picture.

“Two reasons, and both of equal importance,” she said. “First, to keep Myers happy and busy digging. If we break this case, Michael, it will likely come down to the dirt provided by the mole, who knows a lot and has access to our judge. Second, we need to watch McDover’s reaction to the complaint. Myers is probably right. She has no idea of what’s coming. For the past eleven years she and Dubose have had their way bulldozing the county, skimming cash from the casino, bribing anyone who raised an eyebrow, breaking legs, or worse. The money has been too easy and it’s probably deadened their senses. Think of it, Michael, the cash has been flowing for eleven years and no one with authority has ever come snooping around. We show up with the complaint and it rocks their world.”