James Sheehan - The Law of Second Chances

As he was wrapping up his very long Sunday, Jack received a call from Charlie.

“Are you sitting down?” she asked.

“No. Why?”

“Guess who is on the front page of the New York Times , the Daily News , and the Post ?”

“Who?”

“You, my friend. Somebody got word of the stipulation for substitution of counsel you filed on Friday and notified all the papers. It’s big news that a man with your reputation is representing Benny. The Post headline was the best: ‘The Lone Ranger Rides Again.’”

“Oh, Jesus.”

“The game is on again,” Charlie continued. “Having somebody like you on board has stoked the fire. The governor just gave an interview on television reiterating that he will accept nothing less than the death penalty in this case.”

“Well, I guess there won’t be any plea bargaining.”

“I think you’re right about that.”

“By the way, Charlie, I’ve got a couple of things I want to run by you. I’m probably going to be up next week for an emergency hearing on some documents I need.”

“You can stay here, no problem. Like I told you, you and Henry can make my home your headquarters for the entire trial.”

“Thanks, Charlie, but that wasn’t my question.”

“Go ahead, Jack.”

“I’m requesting some financial and telephone records, and there is a possibility that I might need to have a large amount of data processed in a short period of time. I don’t think the parties will be able to produce the material, and I think the judge will probably delay the trial. But the possibility exists that he won’t.”

“Just what are you getting at?”

“I may need an expert to go through this material on a moment’s notice.”

“And you want me to do it?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you just say so? I’ll put in for vacation time right away. I may not use it, but we’ll be ready.”

“Charlie, you’re the best.”

“I’m glad you’re starting to finally realize that.”

The first thing Monday morning, after his run and swim, Jack faxed his motion to the judge and the DA. Things were about to heat up. For the first time since Pat’s death, Jack felt the blood racing through his veins.

Afterward he stopped at the Pelican for breakfast, sitting at his usual place at the counter. Bill and Eddie were the only other ones there.

They were back on their wives again. It was like a soap opera. You could miss two weeks and pick up right where you left off.

While he and Hannah were chatting, a tall, attractive woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties walked into the diner and sat at the counter two spaces away from Jack. Hannah went over to take her order.

“Coffee?” Hannah asked.

“Yes, please,” the woman replied. “And could I see a menu?” Hannah handed her a menu and went to get the coffee.

“I’ll have two scrambled eggs, home fries, and some whole wheat toast,” she said when Hannah returned.

Behind them, Uncle Bill stood up from the booth where he had been sitting. “I think I’ll go outside for a smoke,” he announced, certain that everyone wanted to know this information. He’d started smoking in the Navy and never given up. Jack had considered launching a personal campaign to get him to stop but decided against it. At eighty-eight, quitting might be more hazardous to Bill’s health than continuing the deadly habit.

Eddie followed Bill outside to continue their daily conversation about nothing in particular. Hannah headed to the front of the restaurant to wait on a couple who had just come in, leaving Jack alone at the counter next to the young woman.

“Just passing through?” Jack asked. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“No,” the woman replied, turning toward him. “I’m actually here on vacation.”

“Really?” Jack asked, genuinely surprised. “You don’t look like a fisherman, and we don’t get too many vacationers hereabouts these days other than fishermen.”

The young woman smiled shyly. She had short blond hair, brown eyes, and smooth, coffee-toned skin. “I’m in sales,” she said. “I’ve passed through here a few times on my way to Miami, and it looked so peaceful. I’m tired and need a rest, so I thought I’d come here.”

“Where are you staying?”

“At the Bass Creek Hotel.”

“Good place. They have a fine restaurant too. If you’re looking for a little variety there’s a Mexican restaurant on the other side of town called La Taqueria. They’ve got great food.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied. “Thank you.”

She was pretty and nice, and for a brief moment Jack considered inviting her to dinner. He dismissed the thought immediately.

“Well, I’ve got a busy day ahead of me. Nice to meet you,” he said as he stood up to leave.

The woman remained seated but extended her hand. “Nice to meet you too,” she replied. “My name is Molly, Molly Anderson.”

Jack took her hand. “Welcome to Bass Creek, Molly Anderson. I’m Jack Tobin.”

He waved good-bye to Hannah as he walked out of the diner.

Jack spent the rest of the day at his office, coordinating a time for an emergency hearing on his motion and trying to track down Sal Paglia’s file on Benny. It took most of the morning to find out what lawyers would be representing Carl Robertson’s estate and the telephone company at the motion hearing, which was set for that Friday afternoon at three o’clock.

The effort to find Sal’s file turned out to be futile.

“We sold the practice to Paver, Morrison, and Gould. They took everything,” Glenn Story, the lawyer for Sal’s estate, told Jack when he inquired. “Richard Gould was the partner who presided over the sale and transfer.”

“What’s the name of the file?” Gould asked when Jack finally got him on the phone.

“State v. Benny Avrile,” Jack replied.

“All right, I’ll check it out and call you back.”

Gould didn’t call back until four o’clock.

“I’m sorry to tell you this, Mr. Tobin, but we don’t have the file.”

“Do you know where it is?”

“No, and you probably won’t ever find it. Mr. Paglia’s office was vacant for a couple of months before we bought the practice. It had been broken into and ransacked. We had a master list of all the files. The Avrile case was on that list, but we never found it.”

“Were there other files missing?”

“About five in all. We made a police report, but nothing came of it.”

“Was anything of value taken in this break-in?” Jack asked.

“Oddly enough, no,” Richard Gould answered. “There were valuables in there, paintings and knickknacks and the like-things that could have been sold on the street.”

Jack was immediately suspicious. He decided to call his resident expert on petty crimes and criminals-Henry.

“Do you think somebody might have been looking for Benny’s file?” Jack asked after he had told Henry all about his conversation with Richard Gould. “And what specifically were they looking for? And if Sal knew something and it was in that file, could that have been the reason he was killed?”

“Hold on, Jack. One question at a time. Wasn’t Sal killed by his bookie?”

“Nothing’s been proven.”

“I think you might be jumping to conclusions. Everybody in that neighborhood knew Sal was dead five minutes after he was shot. As I recall, it’s not the best part of town. Of course some crackheads are going to break into his office if they know it’s empty. But they’re not looking for files or paintings or anything like that. They’re looking for money or something they can turn into money quick.”