“Well, I was driving the car when it happened. I’m wearing a scarf because my head was shaved in the hospital. I had cuts and abrasions, a bunch of stitches, a concussion, but I was lucky. I don’t remember much about it but things are coming back. Anyway, my friend and colleague died at the scene and his death was not an accident. We believe he was murdered.” Geismar slid over copies of F, which they grabbed with a bit more eagerness.
Photos of the Prius and the Dodge Ram; photos of the scene; summaries of conversations with the constable; a description of the air bag and seat belt that didn’t work; the missing phones and iPad; and the conclusion that someone was behind the accident, thus the murder, and that someone was Vonn Dubose and his gang. She and Hugo allowed themselves to be lured to the back side of the reservation with the promise of information, and got ambushed. The motive was to frighten them, to intimidate them, to show them that they were in way over their heads, and that Dubose would resort to any measure to protect his empire. According to Myers, and they had no reason to doubt him, no one with authority had ever snooped around the casino and asked questions. BJC was the first, and Dubose moved decisively to send a message. He knew the limits of BJC’s investigative authority, and assumed, correctly, that the agency had almost no crime-fighting capability. He assumed a good scare would scatter them.
“Wow,” Pacheco said as he put down the exhibit. “You’re not pulling any punches.”
“We have a dead friend,” she said. “And we’re not going away.”
Michael said, “But at the same time, we do not have the resources or the authority to fully investigate this corruption. That’s where you come in.”
For the first time, Luna showed a hint of either fatigue or frustration. He said, “I don’t know. This could be an awfully big case.”
If Luna showed reluctance, Pacheco seemed ready to sign on. “It’s a massive case,” he said with another smile in Lacy’s direction.
“It is,” she said. “And far too big for us. We simply cannot investigate organized crime. Our world revolves around judges who’ve cracked up and done stupid things. They violate ethics, but rarely break laws. We’ve never seen a case like this.”
Luna shoved his pile of paperwork away and locked his hands behind his head. “Okay, you’re not a cop, but you are an investigator. You’ve lived through this for the past several weeks. If you were us, Ms. Stoltz, how would you proceed?”
“I’d start with the murder of Hugo Hatch. Sure, I’m emotionally involved with it, but solving it might be easier than trying to penetrate a hundred offshore entities and chasing the money. Someone stole the truck. Perhaps another person was driving it. They were working for an organization, for a boss who ordered the hit. Oddly enough, I think the murder was a gift. Dubose overplayed his hand, overreacted, and did something that could come back to bite him. He’s lived his entire life in a world of violence and intimidation. Sometimes those guys go too far. He felt threatened and his instinct was to hit hard.”
Pacheco asked, “And there’s no doubt the two cell phones and your iPad were taken?”
“No doubt at all. They obviously wanted the devices for information, but the theft was also a warning. Perhaps Dubose wanted to drop a not-so-subtle hint that they were there, at the scene.”
“And you know they were at the scene?” Pacheco asked gently.
“Yes. I don’t recall much, but I remember someone moving around, someone with a light of some sort attached to his head. The light hit my face for an instant. I can remember the sound of footsteps on broken glass. I think there were two men moving around, but again I was barely conscious.”
“Of course you were,” Pacheco said.
Lacy continued, “The wreck will not be thoroughly investigated by the Tappacola. The constable has already been replaced, and the new guy happens to be the son of the Chief. We can assume they are compromised and eager to close the book on just another tragic car accident.”
“You’re assuming the Chief is in bed with Dubose?” Luna asked.
“Definitely. The Chief rules like a king and knows everything. It’s impossible to believe they’re skimming cash without his involvement.”
“Back to these phones,” Pacheco said. “You’re certain they got no intel from them?”
Michael replied, “Yes. The phones are issued by the state. They have, or had, the usual five-digit pass code, but after that there was an encryption barrier. Our tech guys are sure they are secure.”
“But anything can be hacked,” Luna said. “And if they were somehow able to do so, what would they find?”
“It would be extremely damaging,” Michael said. “They would have the phone records, a trail of all the phone calls. And they would probably be able to find Greg Myers.”
“And Mr. Myers is still alive and well, I presume?” asked Luna.
“Oh yes,” Lacy said. “They’re not going to find him. He was here in Tallahassee two weeks ago, stopped by my apartment to see how I was doing. All of his old phones are at the bottom of the ocean and he has a supply of new burners.”
“And your iPad?” Pacheco asked.
“There’s nothing on it that would help them. All personal stuff.”