The Guardians(71)

“Chip and Dip.”

He pauses and flashes a smile with his yellow teeth. “You’re pretty good, Post.”

“We are thorough.”

“Anyway, Chip and Dip ran things for Pfitzner and held everybody in line. The inner circle kept the money and thought they were keeping the secrets too, but, of course, it’s a small town.”

The waiter returns with two jugs of hooch and looks at my first, virtually untouched, as if to say, “Let’s go, pal, this is a real bar.” I give him a smirk and take a long pull on the straw. Glenn does the same, and after a noisy swallow says, “The deputy tells me Kenny Taft was not killed by some random gang of drug thugs, not at all. He says some of the deputies back then strongly suspected Pfitzner set up the ambush, says he needed to put the clamps on Taft, who knew something. He says it worked just swell but with one minor hitch. A man got shot. Evidently, either Kenny Taft or Brace Gilmer managed to get off a lucky round and one of the gun thugs went down. The story goes that he bled out on the way to the hospital and they dumped his body behind a queer joint in Tampa. Just another unsolved murder. Luckily for Pfitzner, the guy was not a deputy and not from Seabrook so no red flags were raised. Any of this sound familiar, Post?”

I shake my head no. I will not repeat anything Bruce Gilmer told me in Idaho.

Another long pull and he’s energized for more narrative. “So the obvious question is why did Pfitzner want to get rid of Kenny Taft.”

“That’s the puzzle,” I say helpfully.

“Well, the rumor is that Kenny Taft got wind of the plan to burn the shed where the cops stored crime scene stuff, and that Taft removed several boxes of evidence before the fire. No one knew this, of course, and once he had the goods he was afraid to do anything with them. He must’ve said too much and word filtered back to Pfitzner, who set up the ambush.”

“Several boxes?” I ask as my mouth immediately goes dry and my heart starts pounding. I drink sangria to calm myself.

“That’s the rumor, Post. Don’t know what was destroyed in the fire and don’t know what was removed by Kenny Taft. Just rumors. There was a missing flashlight, as I recall. I’ve read your post-conviction petition, saw where you lost last week, and anyway the flashlight was presumed to have been destroyed. Right, Post?”

“That’s right.”

“Maybe it wasn’t destroyed.”

“That’s interesting,” I manage to say with calmness. “Does the rumor cover the part that reveals what Kenny did with the boxes of evidence?”

“No, it doesn’t. But interestingly enough, the rumor says that during his funeral service, which was fit for a five-star general, Pfitzner had two of his men go through Kenny’s house inch by inch looking for the boxes. They have never been found, according to the rumor.”

“But you have a hunch, right?”

“No, but I’m working on it, Post. I have lots of sources, old and new, and I’m on the prowl. Just thought you’d like to know.”

“And you’re not worried?” I ask.

“Worried about what?”

“Worried that you might discover something that has been well hidden. Quincy Miller didn’t kill Keith Russo. The murder was ordered by a drug gang with Pfitzner’s blessing and cover-up. The gang is still around and ten days ago they tried to kill Quincy in prison. They don’t like our way of digging up the past, and they won’t like yours either.”

He laughs and says, “I’m too old to worry, Post. Plus, I’m having too much fun.”

“Then why are we hiding in a bar in Gainesville?”

“Because there aren’t any decent bars in Seabrook, which is probably a good thing for a guy like me. Besides, this is my college town. Love the place. Are you worried, Post?”

“Let’s just say that I’m being careful.”





Chapter 36



The file on Mickey Mercado gets thicker. With warrants, his income tax returns are obtained and scoured. He lists his occupation as a security consultant, a sole proprietor as opposed to a partnership or corporation. His business address is in the same building as Varick & Valencia, Nash Cooley’s law firm. Last year’s reported gross income was slightly more than $200,000, with deductions for a mortgage and a couple of nice cars. He’s single, divorced, with no dependents. No charitable activities at all.

The FBI has no interest in wasting its time pursuing prison guards who peddle dope or prison gangs at war with each other. But Special Agent Agnes Nolton can’t resist the scenario of a crime boss hiring the Aryan Deacons to kill an innocent man whose lawyers are trying to exonerate him. She makes the decision to roll the dice in a big way and put Skip DiLuca in a vice. It is a high-risk, high-reward strategy.

With the cooperation of the U.S. Attorney, she appears before a federal grand jury and presents the evidence. Jon Drummik, Robert Earl Lane, Adam Stone, and Skip DiLuca are indicted for the attempted contract killing and aggravated assault of Quincy Miller. The indictments are sealed, and the FBI waits in ambush.

I’m waiting too, hanging around Quincy’s new hospital room and helping to nurse him back to good health. Our conversations are brief because talking quickly tires him. He remembers nothing about the attack. As for his short-term memory, there’s not much there.