The Guardians(49)

“Look, I’m one of the good guys, okay? I’m not here to frighten you or blow your cover. Kenny Taft knew something about the murder of Keith Russo and maybe he took it to his grave, maybe he didn’t. I’m just chasing leads, Mr. Gilmer.”

“It’s Bruce.” He nods to a door and says, “Let’s step into my office.”

Thankfully, he has no secretary. He spends his time outdoors, and his office has the cluttered look of a man who would rather repair a sprinkler head than type a letter. There’s junk everywhere and old calendars tacked to the walls. He points to a chair and falls into one behind his metal desk.

“How’d you find me?” he asks.

“Just happened to be in the area.”

“No. Seriously.”

“Well, you’re not exactly hiding, Bruce. And what happened to Brace?”

“How much do you know?”

“A ton. I know Quincy Miller didn’t kill Keith Russo. His murder was a gang hit, drug dealers, and Pfitzner was probably covering for the gang. I doubt I’ll ever find the man who pulled the trigger, but I don’t have to. My job is to prove Quincy didn’t do it.”

“Good luck with that.” He takes off his cap and runs his fingers through his hair.

“They’re all long shots, but we win more than we lose. I’ve walked eight of my clients out of prison.”

“And this is all you do?”

“You got it. I have six clients right now, including Quincy. Did you know him, by chance?”

“No. He grew up in Seabrook, same as Kenny Taft, but I’m from Alachua. Never met the man.”

“So you didn’t work on the murder investigation?”

“Oh no, couldn’t get near it. Pfitzner was in charge and he kept it all to himself.”

“Did you know Russo?”

“Not really. I knew who he was, saw him in court from time to time. It’s a small town. You’re convinced he wasn’t killed by Quincy Miller?”

“One hundred percent.”

He ponders this for a moment. His eye and hand movements are slow. He never blinks. He’s over the shock of someone from his past tracking him down and does not appear to be concerned.

I say, “I have a question, Bruce. Are you still hiding?”

He smiles and replies, “Not really. It’s been a long time, you know? My wife and I left in a hurry, sort of in the middle of the night, eager to leave the place behind, and for the first couple of years I kept looking over my shoulder.”

“But why? Why did you leave and what were you afraid of?”

“You know, Post, I’m not sure I want to talk about this. I don’t know you, you don’t know me. I left my baggage behind in Seabrook and it can stay there for all I care.”

“Understood. But why would I repeat any of this to anyone else? You were not a witness in Quincy’s case. I couldn’t drag you back to Seabrook if I wanted to. You have nothing to say in court.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I believe Kenny Taft knew something about the Russo murder and I’m desperate to find out.”

“Kenny can’t talk.”

“Granted. But did he ever tell you something about Russo?”

He thinks long and hard and begins shaking his head. “I don’t remember anything,” he says, but I doubt he’s telling the truth. He’s uncomfortable here so he does what is expected and moves to another subject. “A gang hit, like a contract killing?”

“Something like that.”

“How can you be so sure? I thought there was no doubt Miller killed the lawyer.”

How can I be sure? The visual of Tyler hanging just inches above the crocs flashes through my mind. “I can’t tell you everything I know, Bruce. I’m a lawyer and most of my work is confidential.”

“If you say so. Look, I’m pretty busy right now.” He glances at his watch and does a lame job of acting as though he’s now pressed for time. He suddenly wants me out of the room.

“Sure,” I say. “I’ll be around for a few days, taking some time off. Can we talk again?”

“Talk about what?”

“I’d like to know what happened the night Kenny got killed.”

“How would that benefit your client?”

“You never know, Bruce. My job is to keep digging. You have my number.”





Chapter 26



I take a lift to the top of Bald Mountain and slowly hike down 5,000 feet. I am pathetically out of shape and have many excuses for it. Number one is my nomadic lifestyle, which prevents any chance of a daily workout in a nice gym. The low-end motels Vicki finds do not advertise such amenities. Number two is the fact that I spend far too much time sitting and not standing or walking. At forty-eight my hips are beginning to ache and I know it’s from endless hours behind the wheel. On the plus side, I eat and drink as little as possible and have never touched tobacco. My last physical was two years ago and the doctor said everything looked fine. Years ago he told me that the secret to a long healthy life is to consume as little food as possible. Exercise is important but cannot reverse the damaging effects of too many calories. I have tried to follow his advice.

So to celebrate the hike I stop at a lovely lodge near the base and consume a cheeseburger and two beers while basking in the sun. I’m sure this place can be frightening in the winter, but in mid-July it is heavenly.