Driven Be Jack: A Jack Nolan Novel (The Cap's Place Series Book 4) Read online

  Harry replied, "You betcha, I'm starved."

  Renee asked. "Would you like to see a menu, or do you know what you are going to eat?"

  Harry waved his hand at Renee and replied, "No need for a menu, I probably know it better than Juan does. I'll have the fried shrimp sandwich and a side salad with ranch dressing."

  Renee replied, "You got it," as she turned to enter the order on the touch screen behind the bar.

  Swiveling his stool in my direction Harry asked, "When's the remodel going to be finished?"

  I looked over toward the three construction workers who were in the process of packing away their tools and cleaning up their work area and replied, "They tell me they'll be finished in another couple of weeks, but I'll believe it when I see it."

  Harry muttered, "My experience, seldom on time and never on budget."

  I took a drink of my beer and said, "The budget seems to be a sliding scale. Downhill sliding, that is." I paused and then added, "Of course it's not all the contractor's fault. Marge and Moe keep adding to the scope of work."

  Harry nodded and said, "Well . . . it's good that you let the folks who work for you make decisions. Ninety-five percent of the time they'll make the same decision you'd make. Saving you all of the effort of going through the decision making process ninety-five percent of the time is worth the grief the other five percent may cause. Most of the time there are more right answers to business problems than wrong answers. Unfortunately, many business owners are paralyzed because they're looking for the perfect answer to every question." He took a short swig of his beer and continued, "From what I've observed around here, I'd say Marge and Moe have the best interests of this place in their hearts. You're smart to let them run with the reins of management while you focus of the strategic issues."

  Rather then debunk the myth that I was focused on strategic business issues I simply replied, "How much did Marge and Moe pay you to tell me that?"

  CHAPTER THREE

  Monday's evening crowd was thinning out. I had just finished helping Dana restock the beer coolers and reclaimed my usual spot when Patty Johnson arrived. She hopped up onto the bar stool next to mine and said, "Glad I caught you here, Jack. I was hoping you could give me some counsel."

  "Caught me here, where would you expect me to be, PJ?"

  "Oh, I don't know, maybe the symphony or the opening of some new South Beach art gallery."

  I scoffed, "Yeah, sure bet."

  PJ's green eyes sparkled, "I've seen the changes Elena's making in you. In spite of her father being a mobster, she's pretty refined herself."

  PJ was a detective with Hollywood P.D. when I first started seeing Elena and I neglected to mention who her father was the first few times PJ met her. It was only after PJ was injured in a shootout and contemplating leaving the police department that I told her. Needless to say, she was more than a little angry with me. Fortunately, she seems to have gotten over the anger, now it's just the occasional barb. It helps that she seems to like Elena. At least I think she likes Elena.

  Before I could think of a snappy comeback, Dana walked up and asked PJ if she'd like a drink. PJ ordered a glass of Chardonnay. I held up my empty beer bottle and said, "Might as well bring me another Landshark, can't let the lady drink alone."

  Dana frowned and spit back, "Guess a weak excuse is better than none." With that she spun on her heel and headed for the other end of the bar, her long black hair swaying violently from side to side with every step.

  PJ asked, "You do something to tick Dana off?"

  "Why do you think that everything that goes wrong around here is my fault?"

  "Because it usually is."

  "For your information, I'm innocent. Dana's upset about something she heard about the Steelers. A trade, an injury, something bad. I heard her spouting off to a couple of guys about it earlier. You know her and her precious Steelers."

  PJ nodded, "The way she is down here, I can't imagine how she was when she still lived in Pittsburgh."

  I quipped, "Probably, like all other Steeler fans . . . rabid."

  PJ was chuckling as Dana set our drinks in front of us and asked, "Who's rabid?"

  Without missing a beat PJ replied, "Oh, a guy I used to work with. He was quite the character."

  Dana nodded and headed back for center bar.

  I clinked my bottle against PJ's glass and said, "Thanks. The last thing I need to do tonight is pour gasoline on the fire."

  We each took a drink and I asked, "How's Angela? She must like you working regular hours since you left the department."

  PJ smiled at the mention of her daughter and replied, "She does like the fact that our life has more regularity to it now. I don't know if that's based on my job change or the fact that my in-laws moved into a condo in our complex. After I was hurt, Angela and Bill's parents really bonded. Something they had been striving for ever since he was killed years ago. It really works out well for me because on the nights I get home late I know Angela has adult supervision. Teenagers don't need baby sitters, but they do need adult supervision." The mention of her husband Bill, a highway patrolman killed by a drunk driver, dimmed the smile just a touch.

  I asked, "I thought you were going to be doing pre-employment background checks. Those require night work?"

  PJ exhaled, "Not often, but I have taken on a couple of other investigations for the guys I work for."

  I smirked, "I told you that if you went to work for those ex-cop buddies of yours they'd have you doing all kinds of gumshoe work. You were too good a detective for them to have you just calling references and checking credit scores."

  Nodding, PJ said, "Yeah yeah, I know you told me that would be the case." She took a short sip of her wine and then looked directly at me with those mesmerizing eyes of hers, "In all honesty, I'm bored to tears with the pre-employment stuff. It feels good to work on something with a little substance."

  I said, "I'm glad things are working out PJ, you deserve it."

  Her voice lowered subtly, "It's one of those other cases I wanted to talk to you about. One of the principle partners in our firm asked me to do him a personal favor and look into a death penalty case. A good friend of his is an appellate attorney doing death penalty appeals. It's one of those underfunded groups that work to help indigent people on death row. These guys had just started to look at the case when suddenly an execution date was scheduled. They don't have any resources to allocate to investigative work, so our firm agreed to take the case pro bono. All of our other investigators are swamped, so it fell in my lap. I was hoping I could pick your brain a little about what arguments are most persuasive in these situations. That way I can focus my energies where they could have the greatest impact."

  I replied, "I don't know how much help I can be, there is no death penalty in Michigan, so I have zero experience in that arena. I can tell you as a former prosecutor, I would expect that if your defendant got the death penalty it's probably a damn strong case."

  PJ nodded and said, "That was my first thought as well, but the little I know so far makes me think it is worth digging into."

  "You said an execution date has been set, how much time do you have," I asked.

  She sighed, "Twenty-one days from midnight tonight."

  I scoffed, "You're shitting me. If an appeal isn't already well on its way up the appellate ladder you don't stand a chance with that kind of timeline. You said these appellate attorneys just got the case and there's already an execution date. How old is the conviction?"

  "That's the thing, the original conviction was nearly ten years ago."

  I replied, "Like I said, I don't know anything about death penalty cases, but that seems to me like plenty of time to run the whole gamut of appeals." PJ nodded and I added, "This guy, I presume it's a guy, must have had his automatic appeals."

  "Yeah, it's a guy. Twenty-eight years old now, but an eighteen-year-old black kid when he was convicted of murdering a white girl. I guess all of the legal hurdles have been met
, but this appellate attorney seems pretty passionate that the kid is innocent."

  I took a long pull on my beer and looked PJ in the eyes, "PJ, I would expect that death penalty attorneys are passionate about all of their cases. The stakes are so high, how could you help but be impassioned. Feeling pain from working with someone who is going to die doesn't change the facts though. You can't let their passion cloud your view."

  PJ drained her glass and then said, "I hear you Jack. I've only talked to this attorney on the phone, so I don't really know much about the case. I'm meeting with him tomorrow and he's giving me copies of the original court files and all of the appellate materials. What I was hoping was that you would help me take a look at everything and see what you think."

  "Sure, I'll take a look at it with you, but I can tell you now that you're most likely wasting your time. And if this attorney is so convinced the guy is innocent, he must have an area of the case he wants you looking at. You know, the physical evidence or witness statements, something specific. Hopefully, he's not just some do-gooder who's been conned by a guy facing the realities of the ramifications of what he did."

  PJ nodded, "I can tell you that the guy I work for, a crusty old ex-cop himself, seems to think this attorney is pretty objective and street smart."

  "Okay, bring around the material you pick up and I'll take a look at it with you. Just don't get mad at me if I don't agree that this guy is innocent."

  "Fair enough. You be around tomorrow afternoon? I'll stop by if you are."

  "I'll be here, unless of course the symphony is in town."

  After PJ left, I nursed my beer and mulled over our conversation. Having no experience with death penalty cases as either a prosecutor, or a defense attorney, I had only a general understanding of the appellate process. I was confident that in a death penalty state like Florida the defendant probably had an automatic appeal to the state supreme court. If that appeal is denied he would be able to appeal to the federal courts. The federal appeals are discretionary, so if the guy was indigent he may not have had anyone to file for him. I'd need to wait until PJ had the records to determine if this guy has already had all of his bites at the apple. Regardless, I couldn't envision how anything was going to happen within twenty-one days to change the outcome.

  My thoughts were interrupted by the vibration of the cell phone in my pocket. I remembered it had vibrated a couple of times while PJ was here, but I hadn't wanted to interrupt our conversation to even look to see who was calling. After she left, I'd forgotten about the calls. As I pulled the phone from my pocket I saw that both previous calls, and this one, were from Elena. I answered, "Hi Honey, sorry I missed your earlier calls."

  Her response was slow, as if every word was measured first, "Hi Jack, so what's happening in your world?"

  "Not much. Business is dying out for the night. Think I'll go upstairs shortly and leave Dana to close up."

  There was a long pause before Elena said in a clipped cadence, "PJ going upstairs with you?"

  Where the hell did that come from? "What? No, of course not. PJ's not even here and if she was she wouldn't be going upstairs with me. Where did you come up with that?"

  Elena shot back, "Don't tell me you wouldn't take her to bed if you got half a chance. Don't try to con me Jack Nolan. I know you too well. If I hadn't unexpectedly stopped in that night a few months ago she would no doubt have been in your bed that night."

  I interrupted, "That's not true, Elena. I was already seeing you then and I had no desire to try to seduce PJ." That was mostly true. I was attempting to resist the opportunity that PJ was presenting me, after months of my fantasizing about that very thing. I like to believe I would have been strong.

  "She just happened to stop in tonight and to have drinks with you?"

  "What? No, well yes. I mean she did stop in, but it wasn't to have drinks with me. She wanted to talk to me about a case she's working on."

  Her words spitting like an old style Gatling gun, "Case. She quit the police department. She's doing some kind of employment checks now. Those can't be so damn complicated that she needs to ask her favorite attorney for help."

  I could see this conversation going downhill fast, so I said, "Elena, there is nothing between PJ and me. I'm not certain what brought all of this on tonight, but I think we should have this conversation in person, not over the phone."

  "Oh, we're going to have this conversation. You can bet your life on that." Her tone was ice cold. Before I could respond she hung up.

  I must have had a bewildered look on my face, because Dana came down to my end of the bar and asked, "You alright, Jack?"

  "Yeah, I'm alright. I'm going to call it a night. You okay to close?"

  With a look that screamed what a dumb question she thought that was, Dana replied, "Sure, I'm fine. See you tomorrow." She started to walk away but turned and asked, "Did Elena get ahold of you? She called on the bar phone earlier and I told her you were in your usual spot at the end of the bar having drinks with PJ. Forgot to tell you, she'll probably call back."

  I had started for the stairs to my apartment when my phone vibrated again. This time it was a text message from Elena. Don't get so busy with your lunch dates with Marge and drinks with PJ that you forget my dad's birthday party Friday night. Holy shit, now she's jealous of Marge? This woman may be spinning out of control.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I didn't sleep very well Monday night. The conversation with Elena had unnerved me. We were several months into a relationship that had started out as light and fun, but was beginning to struggle. Of course, I do appreciate the fact that dating the daughter of a reputed mobster can place a strain on a relationship in the first place. In the beginning, I felt that the positives outweighed that small drawback. Yet, lately I'd begun to see behavior from Elena that I wasn't at all comfortable with. Last night's call was one of those instances. Unfortunately, it wasn't the only instance.

  As time has gone on, Elena seems more and more possessive. At one time she seemed to easily blend in with the folks around here. She said she preferred Cap's Place over the trendy nightclubs of Miami and South Beach. Yet, lately she seems to begrudge any interaction I have with anyone else when she's around. The other night she came in while Moe and I were watching a ball game. At one time she would have hopped up on a stool and joined in, but that night she nearly demanded that I take her out for cocktails somewhere "quiet."

  On more than one occasion, when Elena has been staying with me, I've had the distinct impression that she had been looking through my phone. I make a practice of closing apps when I'm not using them, but I would unexpectedly find message apps and call lists open on the phone. It only seems to happen when she's around. Now she must be calling here to find out what I'm doing. How else would she already know I'd taken Marge to lunch? The whole situation just isn't healthy.

  Unfortunately, it's my health I'm most concerned about. It's not like I can just call the relationship off, even if I want to, and I don't know that I want to. Elena is a bright, energetic, beautiful woman whose company I truly enjoy. Well, most of the time I enjoy it. Still, even if I decide it would be better to end things, there is the issue of her father. I distinctly remember a conversation where he told me that all he wanted was for Elena to have the chance to be happy. The unspoken message in that is that he will not take kindly to someone making her unhappy.

  The good thing about having ongoing early morning construction on the other side of your bedroom wall is that, even if you don't sleep well, you needn't worry about oversleeping. I was up at 6:15 a.m., but it was going to take at least one entire pot of coffee to clear the cobwebs.

  After a couple of cups I powered up my laptop and began a cursory Internet search focused on the death penalty in Florida. I wanted to gain at least a little insight before I attempted to answer any of PJ's questions or interpret what she was being told by the appellate attorney. Since my home state of Michigan didn't have the death penalty, I'd really never given it m
uch thought. What I learned surprised me.

  I found that Florida leads the nation with nearly 400 people on death row. Nationwide, DNA has contributed to the exoneration of several of the roughly 160 people on death row cleared in past decades, but another leading contributor to exonerations is the discovery of investigative or prosecutorial misconduct. I found this second point especially troubling. As a former prosecutor, I couldn't imagine not following the rules when someone's life is at stake. Actually, I like to think I followed the rules in all cases, big and small. I would hope all prosecutors would have similar standards, but history has proven me wrong.

  I also learned that a part of Florida's death penalty sentencing procedures had been struck down by the U.S. Supreme Court. Evidently, Florida law had allowed judges to overrule a jury's decision regarding the sentence to be imposed. A defendant who had convinced a jury during the sentencing phase of the trial not to impose the death penalty could see the judge decide to interrupt the jury's decision as merely a recommendation and hand down a death sentence anyway.

  I've always been a pretty staunch law and order kind of guy. Although, some recent events involving Justin may have tarnished my self-image a bit. Probably like most people, I hadn't really given the death penalty much thought. It existed in some states and the federal system, but the decision whether someone lived or died wasn't mine, so I didn't trouble myself with any of the arguments pro or con. Part of my lack of consideration of the issues was based on the fact that I thought those on death row legally deserved to be there. If people on death row are being exonerated that means some who are innocent are still being executed. Common sense tells me that every innocent person is not being exonerated. One recent study I found states that one in every twenty-five people on death row is innocent. That would mean sixteen innocent people awaiting death in Florida.