The Whistler (The Whistler #1)(82)

“We’ve had this conversation.”

“We’re having it again. What about Phyllis? She knows everything. How secure is her office?”

“Phyllis is my partner in crime, Vonn. She’s just as guilty as me.”

“I’m not suggesting she might talk. But who’s around her these days? I know she has no partners, only flunkies, but who are they?”

“She’s a fanatic about security. Nothing sensitive is kept in her office, nor in her home. For the important stuff, she works out of a small office no one knows about. It’s all very secure.”

“What about your office?”

“I’ve told you, Vonn. I use one full-time secretary that I run off every eighteen months or so. Not a single one has ever lasted two years because I don’t want them getting comfortable and nosing around. Occasionally, I’ll have an intern for a year, but those poor kids can’t take the pressure. And I have a court reporter who’s been with me for years and I’d trust with my life.”

“JoHelen.”

“JoHelen Hooper. A very sweet girl who does her job beautifully but keeps her distance from anything else related to the courthouse.”

“And how long has she been your court reporter?”

“Seven or eight years. We get along because she says little, kisses my ass when it needs kissing, and otherwise stays out of my way.”

“And why do you trust her so completely?”

“Because I know her. Why do you trust your boys so much?”

He ignored her question and asked, “Does she have access to your office?”

“Never. No one has access.”

“There’s no such thing as complete trust, Judge. And it’s often the one you trust the most who’ll cut your throat for the right price.”

“You should know about these things.”

“Damned right I do. Keep an eye on her, okay? Trust no one.”

“I don’t trust anyone, Vonn, especially you.”

“Attagirl. I wouldn’t trust me either.”

They managed a forced chuckle at their own crookedness. Vonn went for more vodka and she sipped cold tea. As he was sitting down he said, “Let’s do this. Let’s take it one week at a time, meet here each Wednesday at five, and monitor things. And give me some time to think about your retirement.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll warm up to the retirement plan. You’re already counting the extra cash each month.”

“True, but, as I’ve learned, it’s so handy to have a judge in my pocket. You’ve spoiled me, Claudia, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to find another judge so easily corruptible.”

“Let’s hope not.”

“Getting religion in later years?”

“No. I’m just tired of working. I had to take a child away from its mother today. She’s a meth head and a complete wreck, and the child was in danger, but it’s still not easy. It’s the third time I’ve snatched a kid away from this woman, and after a six-hour hearing, with all manner of emotion and name-calling, I had to order social services to take the child. So, as she’s leaving, the mother announces in open court, ‘Hey, no big deal, I’m already pregnant again.’?”

“What an awful way to make a buck.”

“I’m tired of it. Stealing from the Indians is much more enjoyable.”

—

Lacy was on a yoga mat, trying painfully to complete a seated forward fold, a basic yoga move that she had done for years but not since the crash. With both legs straight and together on the floor, she was almost touching her toes when Cooley’s burner rattled on the coffee table. Since she couldn’t live without it these days, she had learned to despise it. Nonetheless, she immediately forgot about yoga and grabbed the phone.

“Just checking in, Lacy,” he said. “No sign of Myers. Not that I expected any, but troubling nonetheless. The cops in Key Largo are looking for him but it’s a pretty cold trail. Some bank repossessed his boat a couple of days ago. Just talked to the mole. Nothing new there either, except that our gal met with Dubose today for their monthly cash party.”

“How does he know this?” Lacy asked, but by now it was an old question.

“Maybe you can ask him one day. I don’t know. Look, Lacy, if the bad guys can find Myers then they can find me as well. I’m pretty spooked. I’m moving around these days, one cheap motel after another, and I’m worn out, to be honest. I’m sending you a package tomorrow with another burner, along with a phone number. It belongs to a phone in the possession of the mole. We change every month. If something happens to me, you call the number.”

“Nothing will happen to you.”

“Thanks, but you have no idea what you’re talking about. Myers thought he was clever.”

“True, but he also signed his name on the complaint. The bad guys have no idea who you are.”

“I’m not sure I believe that anymore. At any rate, gotta run. Be careful, Lacy.” The call ended and Lacy stared at the cheap phone, expecting more.





33





With the autumn season approaching, the Surfbreaker readied itself for the annual invasion of Canadians. The lobby was quiet, the pool and parking lot practically empty. Clyde Westbay stepped onto an elevator for a quick ride to the third floor, to check on some room renovations. A guest in shorts and sandals entered the elevator just as the door was closing and punched the button for the sixth floor. When the elevator began to move, the guest said, “Got a few minutes, Mr. Westbay?”