John Miller - Smoke and Mirrors

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

“Not really. I turned in your rental, and your gun’s in one of these envelopes.”

“They released my gun?”

“Nobody’s interested in keeping it since the shooting isn’t going to generate any inquest. The FBI and Homeland are handling the incidents. You know the ‘official’ statement drill. Massey, when you think about this, just remember that you did good. Real good.”

“You all right?” Winter asked her again, trying to get at what was weighing her down.

“Well, there’s something you need to know. When I was at Brad’s earlier, a deputy came in with Jacob’s coat from the wreck. There was a recorder in the pocket that was damaged and didn’t work. I put the tape into another mini and it worked. You need to listen to it. I put another cassette into the damaged machine so they won’t know I took it.”

“What’s on it?”

“Troubling shit. No one else has heard it. I’m headed to the airport, since I’ve been ordered to join an investigation in progress. I’m going to turn this over to you. You decide how you want to handle it and let me know. I know you’ll do the right thing.”

She gave him a gentle hug and kissed him on the cheek. He saw that her eyes were filling with tears. She moved to the door and smiled weakly.

“Massey, if it weren’t for a few people like you, I’d have written the world off a long time ago. Sometimes I just want to turn in my badge and go live on the side of a mountain.”

When she left the room, Winter turned his attention to the envelopes. He reached over to the table and lifted the manila envelope that had Gardner written on it.

He took the end of the red string and unwound it from the plastic disk, then poured out a pocket mini-recorder.

Winter pressed the PLAY button. The tape began with Jacob’s voice telling the date of the day he was murdered. That was followed by a confession, a surreptitiously recorded conversation with Leigh, and the unmistakable sounds of his flight from the house, which had ended with his death and the recorder’s destruction. As Winter listened, he felt like a trapdoor had swung open beneath him.

Before he closed his eyes, he had listened to the tape three times, and still had no idea how he was going to use the information.

Leigh Gardner turned and smiled when Winter walked into the room where Brad Barnett lay in bed, a bandage encasing the left quarter of his head. His left hand was locked with Leigh’s right.

“Look who’s here, Brad,” Leigh said.

“Massey,” Brad said, smiling crookedly. His voice was no more than a low rasping. “Leigh told me that German bastard clipped you. Sorry I wasn’t more helpful.”

“He chewed on me some.” Winter shook Brad’s free hand gently. “You look a lot better than the last time I saw you.”

“Since you were injured in the line of duty, Tunica County has your medical expenses covered. Whatever you need.”

“We owe you everything, Winter,” Leigh said.

“I asked Leigh to marry me,” Brad said.

“I think it’s the meds talking.” Leigh giggled, squeezing Brad’s hand.

“Bullshit,” Brad declared. “I didn’t really believe it, but you were right about that bastard,” Brad said, meaning Styer. “Daddy never had a chance.”

“I was lucky,” Winter said. “And I had Alexa.”

“It’s over now,” Leigh said, frowning. “We bury our dead, help the wounded as best we can, and life goes on.”

“That’s that farmer realism talking,” Brad said. “Leigh’s a rock.”

“Yeah,” Winter agreed. “That she is.”

The door opened and Cynthia came bouncing in with a soft drink in her hand. She patted Winter’s shoulder playfully as she passed him, went to the bed, and kissed Brad’s cheek. “How you feeling, Pops?” She looked at Winter and her face lit up. “God, is that ever weird or what? I grew up in the same town with Brad and never knew he was my daddy.”

“Where’s Hampton?” Winter asked.

“Gone to spend the night with an old friend of Mama’s,” Cynthia said. “She works as a volunteer at the zoo. He’s helping her feed animals or some happy shit.”

“Cyn!” Leigh snapped. “Language.”

“Sorry,” Cyn said, shrugging.

“I brought you something,” he said, handing Leigh the envelope. “These are Jacob’s personal effects from the accident.”

“Thanks,” she said, dropping the envelope unceremoniously into a shopping bag beside her chair.

Winter’s cell phone rang. He opened it and put it to his ear. “Yeah, Billy. Leigh’s right here,” Winter said, handing Leigh his phone. “He needs to talk to you.”

“Yes? I can be at your office in an hour. Address?” she asked. “Yes, Winter can show me. Cynthia too? Sure, I guess so.”

Winter put the cell phone into his pocket and spent the next fifteen minutes making idle conversation with Leigh and Cynthia. He had thought it would be more difficult.

Winter directed leigh to a large three-story building in downtown Memphis that housed Lyons, Battle, Cole amp; Vance, where a dozen attorneys were growing steadily richer.

Winter, Leigh, and Cynthia stepped out of the elevator. Through the glass-enclosed elevator bank, Winter spotted Billy Lyons standing in the reception area talking to a young man dressed for golf. When Billy saw them, he ended the conversation, strode across the space, and opened the door for the trio.

“How’s the leg?”

“Stiff and sore.”

“The ribs?”

“They’re fine as long as I don’t inhale.”

“I hate to rush things, but can we sign the papers? We need to get back to Brad,” Leigh said pleasantly.

“Of course. My office awaits,” Billy said, leading the way.

After Billy closed the door to his office, he indicated the conference table and they all sat down.

“What exactly are these papers about?” Leigh asked, looking from Billy to Winter. “I thought everything was done. And why did you ask that Cyn come?”

Winter leaned forward. “Billy is here as your attorney to advise you. After I tell you a few things, you can ask his advice,” he said.

“Or you can hire another lawyer if you choose,” Billy added.

“That’s going to be up to you,” Winter said.

“What exactly do I need an attorney for?” Leigh asked. Her face had been captured by a steely frown.

“We’ll talk about that,” Winter said. “First you need to hear this.” Winter took out the recorder and placed it on the table in front of him.

“What’s that?” Cyn asked, looking confused.

“This was in Jacob’s coat pocket when he was murdered.”

Leigh didn’t say anything, but the color drained from her cheeks.

Winter snapped on the machine and sat back.

“This is Jacob Gardner,” the murdered man’s voice said, authoritatively. “I am making this recording because I think it is prudent for me to have an ace in the hole. It has occurred to me that after this business venture is done, and Leigh does not need me, I will be out in the cold, or worse. I have good reason to believe she’s covered her ass nicely and that I will be fed to the wolves. A year ago, I discovered that a foreign corporation was buying land adjacent to a section I was foolish enough to have signed over to my ex-wife as collateral for a loan to repay people I had fleeced. There is no way to sugarcoat that, as it is a fact. Leigh has the evidence to prove that as well as other things that would discredit me. When I approached her and attempted to get the land back so I could sell it and regain my financial independence and dignity, she refused. When I discovered that the corporation buying the land owned the Roundtable, I did some research and found out that they owned only high-end resorts, with one exception-the Roundtable. I was convinced they were planning to build another large resort and that my land would be worth a fortune due to its proximity to the resort. This was before I learned from Albert White that my parcel was the sole remaining property in the middle of the whole shebang. I decided there was enough money to go around. Since Leigh was suspicious because I wanted the land back, I knew I had no choice but to bring her in. Leigh’s father knew-”