Ginger snaps, p.7
Ginger Snaps, page 7
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SuNdAy
April 20, 2014
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10
D
When I came down for breakfast, liz was already seated at a table by
the window, looking fresh as a daisy in workout clothes, part of her
hair hidden beneath a Michigan baseball cap. The waiter had just
brought her oatmeal, scrambled egg whites, and some kind of green
smoothie.
“Come sit down,” she smiled, patting the chair next to her. I sat
across the table and asked for coffee.
“I have a full morning, Pilates and hot yoga—then a massage—I’ll
need it. After that, I’m meeting with the decorator. It’ll take a lot of
work to get the rental livable, especially if the government won’t let
me have my furniture. Doug and I will have to stay here at the hotel
for a while. like it or not, I still have a party to host. Maybe it would be
simpler to just have it at the Club.” She tossed back the green concoc-
tion as though it were a shot of tequila and asked, “So how long will
you be here?”
My poker face deserted me. How could she be so blithe; why no
hangover?
“I don’t know yet. A lot depends on what we learn from Doug this
afternoon. You seem to be in pretty good spirits, all things considered.”
Stirring her eggs with a fork, she didn’t respond immediately. When
she looked up I could see tears brimming in the corners of her eyes.
“It’s all an act, Jack. My whole life has been turned upside down,
but I have to keep it all in, never let it show. Southern women raised
you. You know what’s expected. I’m scared to death. What will I do if
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he goes to prison? I have no idea when the next shoe’s going to drop.
But it was drilled into me—no matter what, don’t let it show—act like
tomorrow is just another day.
“So, I’ll do my duty. I’ll act the airhead, work out like Jane Fonda,
furnish a house I can’t imagine living in, and meet with a caterer to
plan a party for a hundred of my dearest friends, friends who’re all
talking about me behind my back and probably would rather drop
dead than be seen with me. My mother would be proud.”
I couldn’t argue with any of it, so I retreated, asking her to meet me
at the hotel around four o’clock.
She rose, gave me a cool kiss, and walked away, leaving her eggs
untouched.
I ordered breakfast, glanced at the Democrat, and dropped it on the
seat next to me. Anything I’d read about Doug or my press confer-
ence would piss me off. I turned to the New York Times, which thank-
fully didn’t contain a word about Arkansas, much less about Doug.
My thoughts turned to what liz had said. My mother was a vietnam
War widow. Until she remarried and we moved to little Rock, we
lived with my Grandmother louise in Memphis. I understood exactly
what was expected of Southern women. And yet, when I think about
women from stark New england, American Indians, or British women
in World War II, I think of their stoicism, their strength. Women in
general, come to think about it. Maybe it’s not the place—maybe it’s
just the ingrained strength of the fairer sex.
I noticed Clovis peering around the door into the restaurant.
I couldn’t help but smile as he gave a sigh of relief and strode in,
ready for the day. He reported that his folks were hard at work, and I
brought up my one “shower thought.”
“I’m not too current on the regulations regarding government sur-
veillance and wiretapping, but I do know that the mere mention of
'terrorism' or 'national security' allows the Feds to throw the Fourth
Amendment to the wind. I think maybe a little bug inspection at
Micki’s office is in order.”
“Great minds think alike,” Clovis said. “I’ll check your room and
liz’s too, while I’m at it.”
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“Good thinking. Clovis, if Doug is in fact a major grower and distrib-
utor he’s bound to have enemies and associates who might wonder what
liz knows. You know, I still can’t believe the Feds haven’t charged her—
or even brought her in for questioning. We need to think about getting
her some protection. How about you? You two seemed to hit it off.”
“Not funny. I ain’t about to fall on that grenade. If you think she
needs protection, I’ve got the perfect person.”
“I wouldn’t wish that duty on anyone, but you’ve piqued my curi-
osity. Who’s the sacrificial lamb?”
“I’ll introduce her when and if the time comes.”
The server brought us coffees to go, and we left for Micki’s office.
She’d already been on a five-mile run and was dunking one of Deb-
bie’s pastries into her second cup of coffee. Munching on a cinnamon
roll, Clovis took advantage of a pause in our small talk to tell her his
people would come by later to sweep her offices. She played with the
pastry, looking resigned.
“What, no protest?” I asked. “Usually you think you’re exempt from
the government’s intrusion.”
“Well, maybe not this time. I spoke with a friend at the U.S. attor-
ney’s office last night. He confirmed what Fitzhugh told me, that a spe-
cial task force comprised of special agents from DeA and Homeland
Security is running this gig, with Dub in charge and only answering
to the Drug Czar himself. No one else. Dub’s only obligation to Main
Justice is to keep the Criminal Division informed.”
“That doesn’t bode well.”
“Not one bit. He may think he covered his ass, but Doug Stewart’s
in a world of trouble. Growing plants in your backyard and baking
ginger snaps doesn’t warrant an interagency task force. Dub’s not
even using his office at the courthouse. He got a special appropriation
to rent office space downtown and hire a completely separate support
staff. And he hasn’t brought on a single agent or attorney from his
U.S. attorney’s office. everything’s hush-hush. The way they’re going
after Doug, he might as well be Al Capone.”
“Well, forewarned is forearmed. That seals it. I’ve got a friend at
Justice who might be willing to talk. And, Clovis, liz needs full-time
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security. The last thing we need is for the cops to charge liz with pos-
session or for her to get smacked with a DUI. You’ve got someone in
mind to babysit, right?” Clovis and Micki exchanged amused looks.
“oh, hell, Micki! I’m sorry. This is your case. I’m sorry. Why didn’t
you stop me?” I asked.
“I will, when I disagree. Normally, I’d say you’re being overprotec-
tive, but I’ve known my source in that office for years, and he was
scared to talk. He warned me more than once, ‘Micki, be careful.
Watch your back.’”
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D
The skinny man now sat behind the wheel of a dark gray volvo SUv.
He’d assured Mr. Smith that he could handle Patterson and Micki
lawrence just fine, glossing over his worry about Clovis Jones. last
night, Jones had personally tucked the Stewart woman in before
driving Micki back and securing her office. Worse, Jones’ people
were on campus asking questions. He had a moment now, while law-
rence and Patterson were huddled in Micki’s office, and liz Stewart
was off getting a massage. So he turned his attention to his primary
problem—how to neutralize Jones. Mr. Smith had made it clear he
didn’t tolerate mistakes.
leaving Micki and Clovis to hash out security with Mongo, I
perched on the edge of Micki’s desk and searched for Peggy Fort-
son’s cell number in my contacts. Peggy and I had joined the Justice
Department at the same time. I had left for a private practice after a
few years, but she’d stayed the course and was now the deputy assistant
attorney general for the Criminal Division. We were still very good
friends, so I didn’t feel bad about calling on a Sunday. She answered
on the second ring.
“Jack! I wondered if I’d ever hear from you again. Are you finally
calling for that dinner you owe me?”
No beating around the bush from Peggy. I owed her a lot more
than dinner, but I got to the point.
“No, I wish I were, but, well, I’m in little Rock, and I’ve got some
questions.”
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Her naturally cheerful voice took on an edge.
“I know where you are, Jack. I also know why you’re there. let me
shut this down before you start. I’ve been specifically instructed by
the attorney general to have absolutely no involvement in the Stewart
case. He said if you called I should tell you that the appropriate person
to speak to is Dub Blanchard. other than that, I’m not to give you the
time of day. I’m sorry, Jack. When will you be back in town?”
I couldn’t imagine why the attorney general had hogtied Peggy.
She was a career senior deputy, not some new intern. But she was also
my friend, and I knew not to cross the line.
“I’m not sure, but I’ll call you for that dinner as soon as I get back.
I promise. I’m sorry to have bothered you on a Sunday.”
“Wait, Jack. look, please be careful. I mean . . . well, just watch your
back.” She sounded miserable. Watch your back—it was becoming repeti-
tive.
Sliding the door closed with her foot, Micki eased carefully back
into the office, juggling a stack of papers and two cups of coffee. I
took one from her, helped her with the papers and said, “No luck with
Peggy, they’ve put a muzzle on her. I have no idea what’s behind all
this, but she’s been told ‘hands-off.’”
“Don’t go all conspiracy on me, Jack. Dub knows you two are close,
and he’s made sure you can’t go around him. once Dr. Stewart
announced you were his attorney, I bet he called Main Justice even
before he called the press.” She was tapping the eraser end of a pencil
on her desk.
“What about the late-night call from your friend at the U.S. attor-
ney’s office? Don’t tell me that doesn’t bother you.”
“let’s not box at shadows. Doug’s probably going to tell us he was
growing all those plants because it’s his right under the First Amend-
ment. As if I haven’t had a dozen clients try that one on me.”
She turned to Clovis and asked, “Find out anything at UAlR?”
“Not much yet. The kids in Stewart’s classes are pretty freaked
out, don’t know what to think. But the faculty rumor mill is working
overtime. Did you ask Mongo and Debbie? They probably have more
insight into little Rock’s drug scene than my people.”
She bit her lip. “I did, and neither has heard a thing—Stewart as a
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major drug supplier seems pretty unlikely. look—I’m a little hesitant
to involve them. They’ve invested a lot in getting and staying clean.
They run with a different crowd now, and they’re trying hard. For
Debbie, drugs mean Novak and a lot of bad memories.”
“I’m with you, but they do have good sources. let me give them a
couple of harmless suggestions. I promise not to get them in a situa-
tion they can’t handle,” Clovis reassured her.
“okay. But if Novak turns up again, he’s all yours.”
“Rumor has it he’s left little Rock for good, but I’ll have my radar
up. I’ll be sure both Debbie and Mongo can reach me any time.” He
left before Micki could object.
That was the second reference to Novak I’d heard. He sounded like
Russian mafia, or some sort of Boris and Natasha wannabe. I asked
Micki to explain. Her revelations about Novak and how she’d gotten
involved in Debbie’s liberation and rehab gave me a jolt. Debbie
seemed so bubbly, almost without a care in the world—I wondered
how she felt underneath. I knew this sort of thing happened, but not,
I’d thought, in little Rock, or to anyone I might know.
Micki clearly took him very seriously. “I know in my heart Novak’s
going to make another run at Debbie. She seems pretty solid right
now, fairly content, but it just takes one slip—she’s still vulnerable. He
sees her as a source of income and a means of blackmail for his well-
heeled clientele. And he has an image to think of—escapees can be
dangerous in his business. He’s capable of anything. She’s my respon-
sibility now. I need to keep her safe.”
Debbie’s story made me feel guilty. Several of the better restaurants
I enjoyed in D.C. employed an ever-changing bevy of beautiful eastern
european servers. The young women were attractive and hands-on
friendly. I ignored the rumors and occasional lewd glances from some
of my fellow diners. Several colleagues had even encouraged me to
go with them to one of the Russian restaurants that catered to profes-
sional ice hockey players and high rollers. They said “the view” was
worth the expensive drinks. It never crossed my mind that these cute
women might be victims of the sex trade. Human trafficking was a rap-
idly growing problem across the country and had spread well beyond
major metropolitan areas. But little Rock?
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I knew enough from my days at Justice to know how difficult it
was to pinpoint the money behind these operations. I’d lay odds that
Novak was just the front man for some Russian or Chinese mafia.
I hated the way society used the phrase “the sex trade,” like the oil
trade or international trade, as though it were just another economic
market. How any decent human being could participate or condone
the abuse handed out to these young women was beyond me. Having
met Debbie, I knew I wouldn’t be so polite or listen so quietly the next
time my buddies hinted at being more than friendly with those young
women.
My mind returned to Novak. What could he have to do with Doug
Stewart? He may have used drugs to tame Debbie, but that didn’t
make him a competing drug dealer or Doug’s business partner. In
fact, it didn’t connect him with Doug at all.
My thoughts were interrupted as Clovis returned to the office
looking pleased. “Whenever you need to downsize, Micki, I’ve got a
job for those two. They caught on real quick.”
“Don’t you go stealing my employees, Clovis Jones,” she laughed.
Clovis left to run a few errands before he drove us to the court-
house. Micki and I dug into the basics of the case. Much of the daily
grind of lawyering is dull as nails: court preparation, forms, unending
paper work, and an undervalued commodity–thought. our need to
make some sense of all this, hung over us like a fog. Still, we had to
get Doug ready for the arraignment and what we hoped would be a
successful bond hearing.
Micki asked the question I knew was coming.
“Are you going to enter an appearance tomorrow? I need to know.”
“I know you do. Can we put that decision off until this evening?
We’ll have met with Doug and know how he’s going to plead. You’re
handling the arraignment and the bond hearing anyway. I’m just
helping you prepare, throwing in my two cents. I’ll meet with liz after
we see Doug. Why don’t you join us? We can decide then.”
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Debbie, God bless her, had gone to get lunch, She returned with
a large box of fried chicken and potato salad from a place called
lutie's’s—one bite and I was in heaven. The chicken was crispy on the
outside, juicy on the inside, skin coated with just a hint of breading,
salted to perfection.
Consumed by pressure, hunger, and the guilty pleasure of fried
food, we all dug in. Bones picked clean, I was sure I couldn’t eat
