http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00K94V006

Hard Time

A Kellerman Novel

By

Al Lamanda

Copyright by Al Lamanda

One

Johnny Sanchez, the alpha male of Hell’s Kitchen studied the chess board carefully before making the forty-seventh move of the game. He played white. I had black.

I sipped coffee and smoked a cigarette and studied the board along with him. During the fifteen years of our friendship, we must have played five thousand games in this booth by the window in the bar and grill on Ninth Avenue, of which he was the owner.

When he isn’t tending bar, which is most of the time, Johnny Sanchez is a well respected gangster in New York City, with ties to all five boroughs. He is on a first-name basis with the Italian mob, black mafia in Harlem, the Spanish gangs and even the Chinese triads in Chinatown.

Johnny has a ton of money, yet has never made a single improvement to the bar in the fifteen years I’ve known him. Even the food menu is identical. The one change is that his woman of thirty years, Dolly, passed away ten months ago from cancer. Johnny hired a new waitress named Cindy who did her best to fill Dolly’s shoes.

Johnny finally made his move and slid his queen across the board to capture my rook and place my king in check.

I looked at him and he sipped his bourbon-laced, black coffee.

Cindy appeared at the booth with a pot of coffee and a bottle of Johnny’s good stuff. She added coffee to my cup and both to Johnny’s.

He sipped.

I lit a fresh cigarette and looked for the right move.

After five minutes, I slid my king out of harms way to sacrifice a bishop to Johnny’s queen.

Johnny worked out my strategy before taking the bishop and then sipped from his cup.

“I take your bishop and expose my king to your knight and rook,” he said. “Nice move.”

For a Wednesday, there was a good crowd and when the door opened I barely heard it open and close.

Johnny’s back was to the door and his eyes never left the chess board when he said, “That would be for you.”

I looked up and saw Cal Hawkins walking to our booth.

I didn’t bother to ask how Johnny knew it was Hawkins without so much as a sideways glance because he wouldn’t tell me, so I just slid over to make room in the booth.

Before he sat, Hawkins nodded to Cindy at the bar for a drink.

Then he sat next to me and opened the buttons on his suit jacket and loosened his tie. I knew whatever it was he came across town for was not going to be good.

Johnny quietly watched as Cindy carried a shot glass and bottle of scotch to the table, filled the glass and left the bottle.

Hawkins lifted the shot glass, took a small taste and then tossed it back.

He turned and looked at me.

“Before I tell you what I came here to tell you, I want your word that you will do as I advise,” he said.

“How can I give my word on something when I don’t know what you’re going to say,” I said.

“I’ve been Maria’s attorney for two years now,” Hawkins said.

My temper went from zero to sixty in one second flat, but before I could respond, Johnny said, “Let the man speak.”

Hawkins poured another drink and took a small sip. “Maybe we should talk someplace more private,” he said.

Johnny stood up. “My office,” he said.

We followed Johnny past the bar to the hallway where the bathrooms were located to the door marked PRIVATE. He opened the door with a key, clicked on the lights and we entered.

I took the chair behind Johnny’s desk. Hawkins took the chair opposite the desk. Johnny stood beside his file cabinet, opened it and produced two shot glasses and a bottle of his prized bourbon. He filled the glasses and gave one to Hawkins.

Hawkins took a small sip and then looked at me.

“Maria is in trouble,” he said.

“How bad?” I asked.

“Bad.”

I pulled out my smokes and lit one.

“I’m listening,” I said.

Two

Maria Lopez is an ex-cop from New Jersey and my woman for the past twelve years. While she was on the job, she occasionally took some heat for being the girlfriend of a known suspected criminal, but as I’ve never committed a crime her bosses knew about in Jersey, there wasn’t much they could do about the situation.

What they could do was implicate her in a little extortion/drug ring her department had going as a side job, and when the FBI tossed a circle around them, they took her down with them.

In exchange for her cooperation and represented by Hawkins, a first rate criminal lawyer, Maria received two years at a country club prison with parole designated after eighteen months.

She had four months remaining on the eighteen.

Every two weeks I grab a flight to West Virginia to visit her. She passes the time playing tennis, basketball and working in the gardens. Maria is five-foot-eight inches tall and I have to admit, looks better than ever as she rolls into her late thirties.

Hawkins looked at me and then emptied his shot glass.

Johnny was right there to fill it back up again.

“Maria killed a guard,” Hawkins said.

I stared at Hawkins for a moment.

“Did you say … you said she killed a guard?” I said.

Hawkins nodded. “She claims he attacked her in the garden while she was planting flowers,” he said. “She claims he tried to rape her and she stabbed him in the neck with a shive.”

“Maria doesn’t claim,” I said. “She doesn’t know how to lie. If she said he tried to rape her that’s what happened.”

Hawkins took a sip of his drink and nodded again.

“What are you doing about it?” I asked.

“Flying to West Virginia to meet with the warden and medical examiner,” he said.

“I’m going with you,” I said. “I want to see her.”

“She … isn’t there,” Hawkins said. “She’s been transferred pending the results of the investigation.”

“To where?”

Hawkins finished his drink and looked at me.

“Where?” I said.

“Taunten.”

“The maximum security shithole in Ohio?” I said.

“Yes.”

“Now you listen to me,” I said. “I don’t care what it takes, what it costs, you get her the fuck out of there. If they find out she was a cop, she’ll never leave there alive.”

Hawkins sighed. “Kellerman, if the investigation doesn’t go her way, it’s twenty, maybe even forty years added on.”

I stood up and walked around the desk and grabbed Hawkins by his suit jacket and yanked him to his feet.

“Forty fucking years. Are you insane? She thirty-eight. In Forty years there won’t be nothing left of her.”

“Kellerman, let him go,” Johnny said. “He’s on your side.”

I looked at Hawkins and released his jacket.

I went back behind the desk and sat.

“What can you do?” I said.

“I don’t know,” Hawkins said. “I have to meet with the warden and investigating body first. After that, we’ll see.”

“I’m going with you,” I said.

“They won’t allow you to sit it on a meeting,” Hawkins said. “You’re not legally married.”

“I don’t care,” I said. “After you meet with them, we’re going to Taunten to see Maria.”

“As her attorney, I can see her. You can’t,” Hawkins said.

“Fix it so I can.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Hawkins said. “The meeting is day after tomorrow at three in the afternoon.”

“Book two tickets,” I said. “And tickets to Taunten. I’m going even if I can’t see her. Meet me here tomorrow afternoon for lunch.”

Hawkins nodded and stood up. “Kellerman, try to stay calm,” he said.

He walked to the door, but before he opened it, I said, “Hawkins, I don’t care what this costs in blood or treasure.”

He nodded and left the office.

Johnny filled his glass and took the vacant chair.

“The only reason she would have a shive is if somebody found out she was a cop,” he said.

“I know.”

“How much cash are you sitting on?” Johnny asked.

“Not enough.”

Three

From the kitchen window of my fourth floor apartment, I could see most of Ninth Avenue, including Johnny’s bar and grill. At two in the morning, it was closed and the street was dark, made even darker by the light rain that started to fall.

My cats jumped onto the window cell to look out and I stroked them for a bit. The heavy screens prevented them from journeying onto the fire escape. A swinging, locking gate prevented an intruder from gaining access using the fire escape ladder.

I lit a cigarette and thought about Maria. She was doing soft time in a country club prison and would be home in four months. I visited every other week and she never once mentioned being in any danger from anything other than tennis elbow. If someone dropped a dime on her being an ex-cop it could only have come from management.

Question was why?

Maria was smart enough to know not to upset anybody’s applecart and her fellow inmates were all white-collar crime women just trying to get through their time unscathed.

Why did she have a shive, if that were true?

The only reason for a shive in prison is to defend yourself against a hit.

And why a male guard in the garden? Half the guards in the country club were men, but they were generally used during lock-up and evening hours. Female guards patrolled the gardens and rec areas during the day.

I’d been there enough times to know the setup and routines.

I turned away from the window and went to the living room and took a seat on the sofa. There was no TV to turn on. I made the decision not to own one when I bought the building fifteen years ago at a city auction for eighty-four thousand.

I also made the decision not to have a phone. If need be, I use Mrs. Parker’s phone down the hall. She is eighty now and is the building manager. There are twenty-four apartments in the building and I charge no rent. All I ask is the tenants pay the taxes on the building. Once a year Mrs. Parker collects the money and pays the bill. If a tenant needs something fixed, she handles that as well. She hired a superintendent and he lives rent free in a basement apartment. His salary is paid for by the tenants.

When I’m away, Mrs. Parker cares for my cats. They are easy to care for. Most of the time they sleep and when they’re not sleeping, they’re busy grooming each other. They shed a lot and cough up furballs. I have them to keep mice out of the apartment. On that level they are worth their weight in gold.

That’s what it would probably need to get Maria off the hook, my weight in gold.

The last time I stepped on a scale, I weighed two forty.

The only way to get my hands on that much gold would be to rob Fort Knox.

Four

I left the apartment around eight-thirty in the morning and headed over to the family-style diner on 57^th and Broadway for a quick breakfast. I picked up a copy of the Daily News at the newsstand on the corner before entering the diner and grabbing a vacant window booth.

I ordered an omelet with the works and coffee. I sipped coffee and read the paper until breakfast arrived and then I opened my pocket pill case and took six vitamins before eating, something I do every morning.

Nothing much except sports interested me in the paper. I’ve followed the Yankees since I was a kid and the habit was still with me. I checked box scores and standings and future games in The Bronx.

Over a third cup of coffee, I read the comics, and then left a five dollar tip, paid my bill at the register and returned to Broadway. I walked south and then west to the fringe of Hell’s Kitchen where Roth’s Boxing Gym is located.

Back in the late forties and early fifties, Sam Roth was a world ranked lightweight boxer. He had over one hundred fights and won ninety-five percent of them. The few that he lost usually came when he fought men outside of his weight class. He had an epic, fifteen round battle with a middle weight that had twenty-five pounds on Roth and the fight wasn’t decided until the fifteenth round. Roth lost on a split decision, losing by one round. He never fought for the title as the champion ducked him for years until Roth finally retired in 1960.

Roth’s Gym occupied a two-story building in the middle of the block. It appeared exactly as you would imagine a fifty-year-old gym would look, including old posters and the smell of dirty gym socks.

Appearances aside, Roth has trained five world champions to date and is looking for number six. He was holding court beside the main ring when I entered the building and went to the second floor where the locker room was located.

I rented a locker on a yearly basis to save me having to lug gym bags back and forth. I changed into boxing shorts, a gray tee shirt and boxing shoes. When I entered the gym, Roth was screaming at two female boxers who were sparring in the main ring. Lately, Roth took to training women boxers and some of them were quite good.

I went to the area reserved for jumping rope. I selected the weighted leather rope and started warming up. I jumped at a steady pace for fifteen minutes, shuffling between forward, backward and side-to-side jumps.

I replaced the rope on the wall and moved over to the speed bag platforms, of which there were six. Five were occupied. I took number six and went to work on the advanced level bag.

Speed bags come in three levels. Beginner, which is the size of a small beach ball, intermediate, which is bowling ball size, and advanced, which is a tiny bag built for real speed.

I started slowly, getting the feel of the three punch rhythm and slowly elevated the speed until my hands and the bag were a blur. I worked the bag for fifteen minutes and when I ended with a flurry, my shoulders burned and sweat ran down my face.

I toweled off and crossed the floor to the heavy bags. I chose the hundred and twenty pound bag, put of a pair of bag gloves from the basket of gloves on the floor and went to work. Thirty minutes of heavy pounding passed before Roth approached me.

“Kellerman, feel like some sparring,” he said.

I looked at Roth. He’s around eighty-three or four now and reminds me of the old man from the Rocky films.

“Who?” I asked.

“He’s in the ring.”

I looked across the floor to the main ring.

“He’s a middle weight,” I said.

“And a damn good one,” Roth said. “He wants to work his way up to light heavy and I want him to get used to the feel of a heavier man.”

“I’m looking for Davis,” I said.

“Ain’t been in for a week now,” Roth said. “He’s probably got a new sweetheart.”

“I’ll try the Y later,” I said.

“Why don’t you just get a cell phone and call him?”

“I don’t like phones,” I said.

“Whatever. What about sparring?”

“I’ll give him four rounds,” I said.

We walked to the ring where I slipped on regulation size boxing gloves.

“Hey, kid, this is Kellerman,” Roth said to the fighter in the ring. “He’s gonna spar with you.”

“He’s an old man,” the fighter said.

I looked at Roth.

Roth looked at the fighter.

“Kid, be polite,” he said.

“Alright, I’ll carry the old man,” the fighter said.

I grinned at Roth.

“Don’t do it,” Roth said. “I need him in one piece.”

Five

I slid into a window booth at the Bar and Grill and a minute later, Johnny came around the bar and joined me.

A minute after that, Cindy arrived with two cups of coffee.

“Let me have the blue-plate special,” I told Cindy.

I lit a cigarette and sipped my coffee.

“Have you taken stock of your finances?” Johnny asked.

“Two hundred thousand in emergency funds,” I said. “Another hundred thousand in a safe deposit box at the bank. Ten grand in checking. Another twenty-five grand in the stock market.”

“Not nearly enough to buy her freedom if and when Hawkins can negotiate a deal,” Johnny said.

“No.”

“You haven’t worked in months,” Johnny said.

“Haven’t felt the need or desire.”

“And now?”

“Now I do.”

“Should I make inquiries?”

“Hold off until I return from Taunten.”

A man from the booth behind us stood up and came around and looked at me. “In case you don’t know it, smoking is banned in bars and restaurants.”

I ignored him, took a hit on my cigarette and sipped coffee.

“Hey, you got fucking mud in your ears,” he said. “I’m talking to you, man.”

Johnny said, “I am the owner of this establishment. What is it you want?”

“Owner,” the man said. “The guy your with is smoking a cigarette.”

“I see that,” Johnny said.

“What are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing. Do you have a complaint?”

“A complaint? Me and my friends are trying to enjoy a few beers and this asshole is blowing smoke in our faces.”

“Do you see that fat man at the bar about to light a cigar?” Johnny said. “He is the inspector for this area from the Department of Health. Go talk to him.”

The man looked just at the inspector lit his cigar.

“What kind of fucking place is this?” the man said.

“Two things might happen now,” Johnny said. “One is that my friend stands up. If that happens you can kiss the use of your legs goodbye. Two is you return to your friends and you finish your beers and another round on the house. Pick one and quickly because my friend is very close to standing up.”

He looked at me. I blew a smoke ring at him. He went and sat with his friends to finish his beer.

“Wise choice,” Johnny said.

Lunch arrived. We ate and didn’t talk much until we were done and Cal Hawkins came through the door.

Hawkins sat next to Johnny.

Cindy was right there with a shot of bourbon for Johnny and Hawkins and a fresh coffee for me.

“So?” I said to Hawkins.

“We fly to West Virginia tomorrow morning,” Hawkins said. “I told the warden that you’re a private investigator and my associate on this. Is your license still valid?”

“Of course,” I said. “It’s the only reason the city grants me a conceal/carry permit.”

“Then we’ll fly to Taunten,” Hawkins said. “I’ve requested that you sit in on the meeting with Maria. They haven’t responded with my request as yet.”

“What about reports?” I asked. “Have you seen any as yet?”

“The warden won’t allow them to be faxed, but he will allow copies once I’m there.”

“What are your fees on this?”

“Don’t know,” Hawkins said. “I won’t do or charge anything unless I’m positive I can help her.”

“Fair enough,” I said.

Hawkins tossed back his drink and then stood up.

“I’ll pick you up around eight-thirty,” he said.

After Hawkins left, Johnny said, “You’re going to need work.”

I took a sip of coffee and lit another cigarette. “Yeah,” I said.

“I’ll make some discrete inquiries,” Johnny said.

“Do me a favor. See if Davis pops up.”

“Call me from wherever,” Johnny said, and downed his drink.

Six

Davis wasn’t at the Y near Lincoln Center when I entered the gym around three-thirty. He was a regular, as was I and we often worked out together. I checked at the desk on the way to the weight rooms and no one had seen him all week.

I did ninety minutes in the weight room, combining an upper and lower body workout that started with chest on the free-weight bench and ended with legs on the squat rack.

Afterward, I took the second shower of the day and walked home. My cats greeted me at the door. I sat with them for a few minutes of the sofa to rub and scratch them and then filled their bowls with food.

While the cats stuffed their faces, I went down the hall and knocked on Mrs. Parker’s door. I could smell the aroma of her pot roast in the oven through her door before she even opened it.

“Mr. Kellerman?” Mrs. Parker said when she opened her door.

She was dressed in her robe and held a cocktail in her right hand, not the first of the night.

“I’m taking a trip for a few days,” I said.

“Not to worry, I’ll see to the cats,” she said. “I have pot roast in the oven. Want to keep an old woman company and share my table?”

“Why not?”

Once a week or so, I had dinner with Mrs. Parker. Her son and daughter never visited her as they didn’t like and feared the neighborhood. She was born in the Kitchen and would die there and didn’t much give a damn what he children thought.

“Would you care for a cocktail?” she asked as I sliced the pot roast.

“Coffee would be fine,” I said.

I sliced and served and we ate as her radio played forties big band music in the background.

“Are you going to visit your lady?” Mrs. Parker asked.

“Yes.”

“I made her a scarf. Will they allow her to have it?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“People hang themselves or choke others with a scarf,” I said.

She looked at me for a moment. “I’ll hold it for her then.”

“I’ll tell her,” I said.

After coffee, I rinsed the dishes and stacked them in the dishwasher, said goodnight and returned to my apartment.

The cats were asleep on the bed and didn’t bother to move or even look up when I crawled under the covers next to them.

Seven

Our plane landed in Alderson, West Virginia fifteen minutes past ten in the morning. Hawkins had one carry-on bag, as did I and we skirted baggage claim and went right to the taxi stand outside the terminal.

The West Virginia heat was like a crisp slap in the face and within minutes my back was soaked through the lightweight, summer suit jacket. Hawkins didn’t appear to be bothered by the heat at all and his face was bone dry.

When we got into a cab, I told the driver to crank up the AC and halfway to the prison I started to dry off.

The prison was an hour long ride and Hawkins picked up the fare on his office expense account.

The procedure for clearance was a pain in the ass, but necessary for a face-to-face meeting with the warden.

After an hour long wait in a comfortable enough waiting room, a male guard escorted us to the warden’s office.

John Dobbs Jr., warden of the women’s correction facility had been warden for close to fifteen years. I recognized him instantly from sighting him on the grounds during my visits to see Maria, when we entered his large, if not plush office.

A tall man of about sixty, he wore a summer suit, had perfectly cut, silver hair and expensive eyeglasses of a designer type.

He shook hands with Hawkins first and then me, looking me in the eye.

“I’ve seen you before,” he said.

“Yes,” I said.

“This is Mr. Kellerman,” Hawkins said. “His fiancée is Maria Lopez and he also happens to be a private investigator employed by my law firm.”

“I find that a remarkable coincidence,” Dobbs said.

“Not so remarkable when you consider he’s known Maria for a dozen years and that they met because she was a police officer,” Hawkins said.

“Very well,” Dobbs said. “Shall we get to the nature of your visit.”

Hawkins took a chair opposite the desk. I sat next to Hawkins. Dobbs took his seat behind his desk.

“The reports that I have state that my client killed a guard in the gardens with a shive,” Hawkins said. “There are no witnesses, correct?”

“Yes,” Dobbs said. “I wish there were.”

“My client claims in her statement that she defended herself against rape,” Hawkins said.

“The guard was found fully dressed with the shive in his neck and with your client standing beside him,” Dobbs said. “She had blood on his hands and shirt. The doctor examined her and there were no signs of rape anywhere on her body.”

“Why was she transferred?” Hawkins said. “She is entitled to a hearing including representation by her attorney.”

“This facility is, as you are so fond of stating, a country club for white-collar crime,” Dobbs said. “She has upgraded her status to murderer and therefore will be housed as such until her hearing in four months.”

“If those sharks find out she’s an ex-cop she won’t live long enough to attend the hearing,” Hawkins said.

“That is something she should have thought about before she decided to stick a shive in the guard’s neck,” Dobbs said.

“Answer me a question, warden,” I said. “Why was a male guard in the garden?”

“It’s not unusual to have a male guard on duty when inmates are in the yard,” Dobbs said.

“It is if he’s alone,” I said.

“I fail to see the …” Dobbs said.

“We want manpower reports and schedules for the past twelve months,” I said. “And they better show male guards on duty alone in the yard and garden on more than one occasion. We want medical reports on the guard, on Maria and an explanation as to why the male guard was alone when procedure is at least one female present. We want it before we leave here today.”

Dobbs glared at me.

“I’ll need the information to prepare our case for the hearing,” Hawkins said.

“Anything else?” Dobbs said.

“I’ll let you know after we review the requested documents,” Hawkins said.

“You may wait in the visitor’s lounge,” Dobbs said.

*****

Two hours later, we were called into the prison library research room where two cartons of files rested on a table.

We read the doctor’s reports first.

The guard had been stabbed in the left side of his neck with a shive. The cut severed the main artery causing immediate and major blood loss. He died within minutes of the stabbing. He was fully dressed in uniform when found by two female guards called to the scene. There were no other wounds on his body at the time of death.

Reports written by the two female guards who responded to the scene claimed they spotted Maria walking in a daze across the gardens. She was covered in blood and didn’t respond to their questions. They rushed to the flower beds where they found the male guard on the ground with the shive in his neck. He wasn’t breathing and their efforts to perform CPR met with failure.

The doctor who examined Maria stated that there were no visible signs of rape anywhere upon her body.

We took a short break and I went outside to smoke a cigarette and grab two containers of coffee from the guest coffee shop.

Then I returned to the library and we read the guards manpower and schedules for the previous twelve months.

The first months of schedules had female guards on duty whenever inmates had exercise time or work time on the grounds and gardens.

The second six months had one male guard on duty during exercise time or work on the grounds and gardens at least twice per week.

“A slight change, but why?” Hawkins asked.

I flipped pages on the manpower reports.

“No cutbacks on manpower, the same number of male to female guard ratio and nothing out of the ordinary, except it’s an unwritten rule men don’t guard women alone,” I said.

Hawkins made photocopies of what he needed and then we returned to the warden’s office.

*****

“I do hope you’re not planning your entire defense around a change of guard schedule,” Dobbs said.

“No, but I am curious as to the change,” Hawkins said.

“I have no idea and little interest as to why,” Dobbs said. “I don’t write schedules. My captain of the guard does.”

“May we see him?” Hawkins asked.

Dobbs sighed and reached for his phone.

The captain of the guard, a tall man with the face of a prick reported to the office and stood almost at attention before Dobbs. His name was something Pierce.

Dobbs posed the question to Pierce.

Pierce said, “Just seems to break up the monotony is all, Warden.”

“Any other reason?” Hawkins asked.

“No,” Pierce said. “It gets pretty boring on tier duty day after day and some of the men asked for a break in the routine.”

“I noticed that the murdered guard had been scheduled outside five times in four months,” I said. “Without a female guard as a partner.”

“I don’t keep that close a watch on those things,” Pierce said. “I just try to keep everybody happy.”

“The murdered guard, his file says he wasn’t married and thirty-two years old,” I said. “That he worked in corrections for nine years, six of them here.”

“What about it?” Pierce said. “Half of the guards, women and men aren’t married and most have at least six years in.”

“I’ve heard enough,” Dobbs said. “Captain, you are excused.”

Pierce nodded and left the office.

“If you will excuse me, I have things to attend to,” Dobbs said.

“I’ll be in touch,” Hawkins said.

“She’s guilty,” Dobbs said. “You’ll just have to accept and deal with that fact.”

“What I have to deal with is my business,” I said.

“Thank you for your time, Warden,” Hawkins said.

Eight

Hawkins had us booked at the something or another inn near the airport. It was a comfortable enough place and a decent steakhouse was within walking distance.

We ordered rib-eye steaks with the works and talked things over as we ate.

“Dobbs just wants to ride things out until he retires,” Hawkins said. “I don’t think he wants to know or cares about the truth.”

“Pierce?” I said.

“Now that one, I’ve seen a thousand sneaky little shits like him on the stand and they always have something to hide,” Hawkins said.

“Want me to shake it out of him?”

“Let’s talk to Maria first,” Hawkins said.

I agreed. “What about her chances for a court trial?”

“Slim, but possible,” Hawkins said. “We need the element of doubt introduced.”

“Can you do that?” I asked.

“Let’s reserve judgment on that until after we see her.”

*****

My room had cable and I watched the last few innings of a ball game and then found an old John Wayne western to watch until I felt tired enough to sleep.

Our flight left at nine thirty-five and by midnight I turned off the television and got under the covers.

I woke up around four with something nagging at me. I clicked on the lamp, sat up and smoked a cigarette.

Whatever the thing nagging at me was didn’t show its face.

I grabbed a few more hours sleep and awoke around seven. I met Hawkins at eight and we grabbed a cab for the quick ride to the airport.

“Anything bothering you, nagging at you about this?” I asked.

“It is.”

“Know what it is?”

“No clue.”

I thought about the It the entire flight to Ohio and still had no idea what was bugging me about our meeting with Warden Dobbs.

Our meeting with the warden at the federal correction facility wasn’t until three, so we grabbed a large lunch at a burger joint inside the terminal. Then we took a cab to the prison and went through screening and by the time we were cleared it was three o’clock.

And the warden kept us waiting for thirty minutes.

Nine

Warden William Field was close to fifty years old, a tough as nails, no-nonsense type of man who ran the maximum correction facility with an iron fist. He had to. Nearly every inmate was a hardened criminal. Most were repeat murderers and hard-core drug pushers and skin-head biker types.

Five hundred yards separated the male and female facility. The prison was designed for hard time and not the country club in West Virginia.

“Maria Lopez will be with us for the next four months,” Field said. “After she has her hearing, she could wind up back here or at another like facility, but either way I expect her to draw a minimum of ten years and probably more.”

“I’m going to try for a judge to hear her case in court,” Hawkins said.

“I’ve seen that done many times, and when she loses in court, she’ll do forty,” Field said. “She killed a guard. She killed a guard apparently without provocation. In court, she’ll be found guilty and get forty years. You want to do your client a favor, turn around and go home.”

“I’ll reserve judgment until after I’ve seen my client,” Hawkins said.

“Suit yourself,” Field said.

“Does the population know Maria used to be a cop?” I asked.

“No, and unless she reveals that information herself, they won’t,” Field said. “And not because I care one way or the other about your client, I don’t. I just don’t want to have to report the murder of an inmate to the state police and the governor.”

“Can we see her now?” Hawkins asked.

*****

Attorney’s and clients met in a large room with a dozen tables. There were four doors and an armed guard stood watch on each one.

Every table was occupied with a lawyer and client. Every client was a female inmate. There was an identical setup for the male population in their facility.

Maria was at a center table. She wore an orange jumpsuit with her number over the left breast. Her black hair was cut short to about my length. Her left wrist was cuffed to an iron ring mounted to the tabletop. Dark, deep-set black circles were under her eyes. She looked ten years older than when I last saw her two weeks ago.

Maria lowered her eyes as we approached the table and sat.

“Why the haircut?” Hawkins asked.

“To make herself less attractive to the dikes so she doesn’t get fist-fucked every ten minutes,” I said.

Hawkins nodded. “Did it work?”

“No,” Maria said.

“Jesus,” Hawkins whispered.

He opened his briefcase and removed a yellow pad and pen.

“I need to know if you want a hearing or a trial before we proceed,” Hawkins said.

“Because?” Maria said, finally looking up.

“Hearing is an automatic ten,” Hawkins said. “Lose the trial and you stay here forty.”

Maria nodded.

“I’ll take the ten,” she said.

“You mean the hearing?” Hawkins said.

“Yes, the hearing.”

“Why?” Hawkins asked.

“Because I killed him as they said.”

Hawkins was silent for a moment. “Tell me about it,” he said.

Maria looked at me.

“Country club prison or not, it has its fair share of dikes and worse,” she said. “Some of the women are outright murderers who happened to win a plea bargain or copped to lesser charges. The general population didn’t know I was a cop and it was agreed for my safety that I was there for some white-collar bullshit. Until around six months ago. This prick Pierce, captain of the guards, he pays me a visit while I’m working in the garden. He said my little secret will remain a secret if I agree to have sex with the male guards and any lesbian guards who might want me, and believe me he didn’t miss his turn. He likes to jerk-off on my tits while I call him daddy, the little freak. If I refuse, every inmate in the facility will know I was a police officer.”

“Jesus,” Hawkins said. “So that’s what the guard was doing in the garden?’

“He was there to get laid,” Maria said.

“And you stabbed him why?”

“I didn’t want his dick in my ass,” Maria said. “So when he tried to put it there I stabbed him. I was aiming for his eye and missed. The guards who found me covered in blood must have tucked his dick back in his pants because there was no mention of it in the reports.”

“Can you remember names, days, times and any other information that we can use at a hearing?” Hawkins said.

“Do you think I’d forget something like that?” Maria said. “I can describe each one of those bastard’s dicks and a few vaginas, but unless we’re all naked at the hearing what good does that do?”

“It does a lot of good,” Hawkins said. “It won’t get you off the murder, but it will greatly reduce the ten years.”

“I will arrange for you to have time to write as comprehensive a list as possible before I request the hearing with the board and Warden Dobbs,” Hawkins said.

Maria nodded.

“Where did you get the shive?” Hawkins said.

“I made it from old garden tools,” Maria said. “I thought I might need it and I did.”

“Look, you did what you had to do to survive,” Hawkins said. “The fault of what happened is as much the fault of Dobbs and his corrupt guards and staff. That’s what we’ll present at the hearing.”

“The only good thing about this place is I’m in isolation and have plenty of time to make your list,” Maria said. “I can’t do ten years here and I especially can’t do forty. If it’s forty, I won’t leave here alive.”

“I’ll make sure you stay in isolation until the hearing,” Hawkins said. “You just make sure nothing happens to you.”

“Lopez, time,” a guard said.

“Kellerman, tomorrow is visiting day for isolation,” Maria said.

“I’ll be here,” I said.

*****

“What do you think her chances are?” I asked.

We were in a booth at a restaurant within walking distance of our hotel located a mile from the prison.

“I’ll do whatever I can,” Hawkins said.

“That’s not what I asked,” I said.

Hawkins sighed. “The guards will claim that she is lying. Dobbs will claim no knowledge of anything. The doctor’s report claims that she wasn’t violated or struck. Her chances of wining a trial are zero. Her chances of a lesser than ten years hinge on one thing and one thing only, proving that she was mentally unstable at the time she stabbed the guard.”

The waitress arrived and asked if we were ready to order. We both ordered the fried chicken.

“Ten years and out in?” I said.

“Seven, possibly.”

“No good,” I said. “You saw her today. She’s barely thirty seven and looks fifty. What’s she going to look like in seven, or ten? And that’s saying she lives to get out.”

“Do you believe her story?” Hawkins asked.

“Every word.”

“I do, too. And it certainly explains the male guards alone with her.”

I looked at Hawkins.

“What?”

“I just realized what was bugging me,” I said. “With all the responsibility and shit a captain of the guard has to do everyday, why is he standing watch alone in the garden only when Maria is there?”

Hawkins nodded. “It’s a good question worth asking.”

*****

In his hotel room, we revisited the guard’s schedules and Pierce stood watch in the garden once a week and without a female guard present on eight occasions. On six occasions Pierce and two female guards were present when Maria was in the gardens.

“The lesbian guards?” Hawkins said.

“Has to be,” I said.

“She never mentioned any of this when you visited her?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I would have killed the son of a bitch in cold blood.”

“Pierce?”

“Yes.”

“I sometimes forget who you are,” Hawkins said.

“Don’t.”

“I won’t.”

“Does it help her case?”

“Not without proof,” Hawkins said. “And even with proof it doesn’t get her less than seven. Even if the guards all confessed, they would be fired and arrested, but that doesn’t make murder go away. The hearing board doesn’t like it when guards are murdered. Even scumbag guards who like to sodomize female inmates.”

“She can’t do seven,” I said.

Hawkins sighed and closed the files on the desk in his room.

“I need to make some calls when I get back to New York,” he said. “I need someone more skilled at this kind of thing that I am.”

I nodded. “Cost?”

“Maybe 200 K, a bit more or less, but around there.”

“Do what you have to do,” I said.

“My flight is at ten,” Hawkins said. “Let’s have breakfast.”

I nodded. “Do what you have to do,” I said.

Ten

After jumping through hoops, I signed in at the prison visitor’s center and walked along the hallway to the visitation room.

There were twelve stations. Visitor and inmate were divided by Plexiglas. All twelve inmate chairs were filled. Maria was seated in chair number three.

I sat and we both lifted our phones.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.

“Remember my partner?” she said.

Maria had a male partner and I was convinced they were having an affair. I confronted him at his home and beat him half to death and later learned she was being blackmailed by her department in a money laundering scheme she was innocent of. Her partner never returned to the job.

I nodded.

“I can’t do ten, Kellerman,” Maria said. “I’ll be an old woman in ten. A used up, old ex-con of a woman. If that’s the case, I’d rather do the forty and just die in here.”

“You’re forgetting something,” I said. “You did nothing to wind up here in the first place.”

“Except keep my mouth stupid shut when I should have rolled over on them,” Maria said.

“It’s too late to backtrack all that now,” I said. “Hawkins is proceeding with the idea of …”

“Never mind Hawkins,” Maria said. “Am I your woman?”

“Yes.”

“Then get me out of here, or I will die in here,” she said. “I don’t care who you have to kill, bribe or fuck to get me out, just get me out. If you do that, I will treat you like a king for the rest of your life and be like a faithful dog at your side.”

“Alright,” I said.

Maria nodded.

“Have you been faithful to me?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Then you must be randy as hell.”

“I workout twice a day, what do you think?”

“Lopez, time,” a female guard said.

“Get me out, Kellerman,” Maria said and blew me a kiss.

I hung up the phone as a guard escorted Maria through a door and out of my sight.

Eleven

“Troubling times,” Johnny Sanchez said.

I took a sip of coffee and then lit a cigarette.

“Any word from Davis?” I asked.

“No.”

Cindy approached the booth by the window and touched up my coffee and asked if I wanted something to eat.

It was two in the morning and there was just us in the bar.

“What’s left?” I asked.

“Plenty of meatloaf with the works.”

“Bring us both a plate and join us if everything is closed.”

Cindy nodded and returned to the kitchen.

“So why not just call him up or better still, go to his apartment?” Johnny asked.

“I hit Roth’s this morning and the Y late this afternoon,” I said. “Davis hasn’t been around for five days. There are two possibilities. One is he’s dead. Two is he found a new lover and is cooped up somewhere.”

“He still has that device you seem to know nothing about called a cell phone,” Johnny said.

“I’ll find him tomorrow,” I said.

Cindy returned with three plates of the meatloaf blue-plate specials and set them on the table. She set her plate next to Johnny and he scooted over a bit to make room.

Johnny’s bottle of bourbon was on the table and Cindy filled his glass and one for herself.

“And your lady is?” Cindy asked.

“In a very undesirable position,” I said.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Cindy said.

We ate in silence and when we were done, Cindy took the plates to the kitchen.

“What about work?” I said.

“I made some inquiries,” Johnny said. “Do you know how much you’re going to need?”

“Not right now.”

“When you do know, we’ll talk about it then,” Johnny said.