Part 18 (1/2)
From their meeting, he could tell that most of what she said to him was her just p.i.s.sing in the wind. She didn't know the details, but she had a theory and put it to the test. She had her finger on the big picture and it was the big picture that mattered. So what would she do with what she knew about Edgar, or what she suspected she knew? Would she go to the press and resurrect Dominga? And if she did, would they believe her enough to even be curious? Edgar was an old man. Did he really care anymore?
He picked up the slip of paper she'd casually left him with her number on it, and dialed it.
”h.e.l.lo?” she answered.
Edgar had played these types of games for longer than she'd been alive, so he knew the rules. He knew them well.
”What do you want from me?” he reluctantly asked.
It was a simple question. That's all it needed to be.
”Proof.”
”Of what?”
”Desi Green's lineage.”
”Why?” he asked curtly.
”Do you really care?”
Edgar thought about it. ”No.”
Like the Cat That Collared Me ”We've got you on the camera in the parking lot of the supermarket where you and Colette met up, leaving your car and climbing into hers the evening that Ed Brewer and Jake Boston were shot, Frank, corroborating Colette's version of what happened.”
They'd caught Frank coming out of San Antonio, driving down Highway 35 headed toward Laredo. He'd taken what was left in his bank account and filled up his gas tank, hoping to make it across the border before they caught up with him.
”She said that you and she were taking money from Reggie Rodriguez, in exchange for letting his people deal without being arrested.”
Chuck Baldwin was the detective questioning Frank. Frank remembered when Baldwin first came on the force. He was young and scared-now look at him, all large and in charge and s.h.i.+t.
”Ed and Jake wanted a piece of the action? Is that true?”
Frank had the right to remain silent. So, he did.
”According to Colette, the two of you weren't getting all that much from Reggie. Maybe Ed and Jake thought you were cleaning up more than you were?”
Reggie gave them a grand a week, which was change considering how much he was bringing in, but Chuck didn't need to know that.
”Maybe it's just me, but if the two of you weren't getting much from Reggie, then why bother to shoot Ed and Jake at all?”
Because Jake was a hothead, who pulled his gun first. And Colette was a methhead who pulled her gun next. Ed was looking out for Jake, and Frank was looking out for Colette. One thing led to another, and all of a sudden, the whole world turned upside down. Chuck didn't need to know all of that either.
”I'll be honest, Frank,” he said with a sigh. ”This isn't looking too good for you, man. Colette's adamant about her side of the story, and the only reason she's telling it at all is because she knows she's going down for Reggie, and she figures that she might as well take you with her. Now, if I were you, I'd speak up now. Say something to help yourself out here, Frank. Don't let her take you down with that sinking s.h.i.+p without a fight, man. It ain't worth it.”
Chuck Baldwin was a good man, a good cop. He had Frank almost convinced right now that he really did care about what happened to him. If Frank hadn't seen this ploy so many times before in the past, he might've fallen for it, but he knew better than to say s.h.i.+t. If they wanted to prove he shot those men then they'd have to do it in court. Frank made up his mind to do all his talking through his public defender.
A few days later, Frank and Colette appeared together in the courtroom, awaiting their bail hearings. She looked at him as the two were brought into the courtroom together. They locked on to each other, and Colette's eyes filled with tears. She mouthed ”I'm sorry” to him. Frank turned away.
His hands and ankles were cuffed. Frank was a f.u.c.kin' criminal. A year ago, they were giving him a plaque and pats on the back. ”It's been good working with you, Frank. Man, you are going to be missed around here. If you ever change your mind and want to come back, just give us a call. We'll keep your locker warm.”
Colette was led up to stand in front of the judge first. Some vague-looking public defender appeared like a rabbit out of a hat next to her. The district attorney rattled off the charges, making Colette sound like a regular ma.s.s murderer. Then her defense lawyer mumbled some kind of half-a.s.sed plea for leniency and bail, which the judge revoked. Colette broke down crying, and two police officers scooped her up, and dragged her out of the room.
It was Frank's turn, and with each step, his stomach turned. It was almost over. Frank had been living in denial for so long that now he was starting to feel a sense of relief that this whole thing was coming to an end. It reminded him of having a bad tooth that needed to come out. His knees threatened to give out from under him as the realization was finally setting in that he was going to prison for killing those men. And when it was all said and done, Frank stood to lose his life.
He fixed his eyes on the gavel sitting in front of that judge. Frank barely even noticed his lawyer sidling up next to him. He heard the shuffling of papers, and the nauseating sound of that judge's voice as he read off the charges in front of everyone in that courtroom. He was numb and detached from this whole scene, because he already knew how it was going to end.
”Your Honor, my client is charged with this crime based only on the heresay of another defendant,” he heard his lawyer say, loud and clear. This one didn't mutter under his breath. Frank looked at him. This one looked like he was wearing a million dollars.
”A defendant who was also arrested for taking the life of another victim in a crime of which, according to the CTPD (Cotton, Texas Police Department), my client had no involvement whatsoever. Until recently, Mr. Ross was a decorated officer with said police department, with exemplary annual performance reviews and a spotless record.”
”He's accused of killing two other exemplary police officers, Your Honor,” the prosecuting attorney retorted.
”Ah, yes,” Frank's attorney said pompously, holding up a doc.u.ment in his hand. ”A Mr. Edward Brewer, placed on disciplinary suspension twice for citizen complaints of unnecessary roughness, and Jake Boston, who transferred to the Cotton Police Department from the El Paso Police Department, where he was also placed on a leave of absence pending investigation for domestic violence against his then girlfriend.”
”Your honor, the victims are not on trial here,” the DA argued.
”Neither is my client.”
”Not yet,” the DA's representative snapped.
”That's enough,” the judge commanded. He took his time considering Frank, and then made the decision. ”Bail set at one million.” He raised his gavel and struck it down on the bench.
Frank's heart sank into his stomach. ”A million f.u.c.kin' dollars?” he murmured.
”The angels are on your side today, Ross.” his expensive-looking lawyer said matter-of-factly, packing up his briefcase. ”You'll be out within the hour.” He glanced at Frank, and then followed him as he was led out by the uniformed officers.
Like the Devil in the Church ”But you canceled the last board meeting, Jordan,” June said, taking two steps to every one of his to try and keep up with him as he walked back toward his office. ”We're all anxious to get this over with, and by the numbers, if we're going to do this, then we have to do it now, before someone else comes in and s.n.a.t.c.hes Anton right out from under our noses.”
His patience with her was running thin. ”This isn't up for debate, June,” he snapped. ”Reschedule the meeting for next week, after I've had a chance to take a look at some things.” She followed him into his office and closed the door behind them.
”June.” He spun around and glared at her.
She put her hand on her hip. ”Jordan.”
Jordan glanced at his watch. He didn't have time for this s.h.i.+t now. He'd agreed to meet with Edgar for lunch. ”We'll talk about this later. I have a meeting.”
”Just tell me what it is that's keeping you from wanting to move on this now? Anton is in a prime spot for us to come in and sweep it out from under Jorgensen's feet. It's done, and it's going at a bargain price,” she said, sounding like a used-car salesman on late-night television.
”I have my reasons,” he said simply.
”Why can't you share them with me? Why can't you share them with the board? Maybe if you did then they'd be willing to take a step back and do it your way, but because you don't, and with everything I've shown them...”
”Numbers!” he said, suddenly snapping. June and her d.a.m.n numbers were starting to get to him in the worst way. ”This business isn't just about numbers, June! How many times do I have to tell you that? And how many more times do I have to tell you to respect me and my position and to stop selling that s.h.i.+t to my board members?”
”Your board members, Jordan? How about our board members? This is my company too, and I have every right to be here as you.”
”But you haven't been here, baby sister,” he retorted. ”You've been in Atlanta, with your husband and your kids, running your little nonprofit,” he said condescendingly. ”I've been here, June!” He drove his finger down on top of his desk. ”For d.a.m.n near thirty years, I have been here, carrying this d.a.m.n company on my back to where it is now! These people have seen what I can do! They have trusted what I can do until you came along and started to undermine that!”
”I'm not undermining anything, Jordan! I'm just-”