J.D. Trafford - Michael Collins 02 - No Time to Die (7 page)

Jane picked up her beer.

“Sounds like a plan,” she said, taking a sip, “assuming I don’t get shut down first.”

And I don’t get arrested
, Michael thought.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Michael sat at the cheap desk in his motel room. It was late. He was tired, but not tired enough to fall asleep. He was drunk, but not drunk enough to pass out. So he sat and stared at the photograph of his namesake, the Irish revolutionary Michael John Collins.

As a boy, his mother had three pictures hanging on the wall of their old apartment. The first two were pictures of Pope John Paul II and President John F. Kennedy. The third photograph was of Michael John Collins. After his mother died, Michael took it with him. Then he kept it when he left everything else behind for Mexico. It was one of the few things that he had kept from his former life.

There was something about the photo that gave him strength.

The Michael John Collins in the photograph spent most of his life on the run, fighting the British and trying to unify Ireland. After he negotiated the peace deal that split the country in two, allowing the British to keep control of Northern Ireland, he was killed by one of his own.

Michael stared at the photograph and wondered how long he was going to last.

Michael wasn’t a fan of Jesser, but felt himself getting sucked in. He wanted to help, but what could he really do? He wasn’t going to anonymously give money to Jane’s little non-profit. He had done that already donations almost cost him Father Stiles and Father Stiles had still almost lost his parish. His secret bailout of the Sunset had cost him Andie. He couldn’t go down that path again, not with the feds getting so close.

It’d just turn all bad. Bad luck followed him.

Michael looked up from the photograph. He opened the window shade a crack.

Across the street sat the dark blue Ford Taurus
with two people inside. It was the same car he had seen the first night he and Kermit checked into the motel. It was the same one he had seen down the street from Jane’s office.

He had to get out of
Jesser. He had to go home.

Michael looked at the photograph on the desk. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

I’ll leave
, he thought,
just not yet
. A few more days.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The view was lovely. The lawyer was late.

Brian and Dylan McNaughten sat on the deck of the Everglade Boat and Yacht Club, overlooking Naples Bay.

It was breakfast time at the club, which was Dylan’s favorite, but he was still in a bad mood. He ordered another Bloody Mary and headed to the omelet station where a young Hispanic woman was waiting to serve. She had 15 different ingredients to choose from. Each one – from green peppers to ham to broccoli florets – were meticulously displayed on the table in front of her.

He looked them over, never a smile. Dylan barked an order, and then he returned to his seat.

“
I’m hung-over.” Dylan looked around. “And where’s my bloody?”

“
It’s coming.” Brian exhibited patience that only came from experience. “So I take it from the way that you’re dressed and your current condition that you are not coming in to work today.”

“
Is that a statement or question?”

“
A statement, hoping for a response.”

But Dylan didn’t respond, and so Brian continued.

“You know,” Brian said, “the way to avoid being hung-over is simply not to drink heavily the night before.”

Dylan rolled his eyes.

“Whatever.” He waved his brother off. “I do my thing and you do yours.” Dylan saw a waiter with his drink. He held out his hand, and the waiter dutifully handed the glass of vodka and tomato juice to Dylan and disappeared.

Dylan took out the decorative stick of fruit and drank. Now satisfied with the day’s first taste of alcohol, he continued.

“You’re not capable of doing half the stuff I do for this company, so get off my back.”

Brian bit his tongue. He knew it was true.

They were twins. They were connected, but different. They instinctively looked out for one another. That was how it had always been. When they were kids, their dad had been too busy running Jolly Boy to have much to do with them and their mother had been too busy with her tennis pro. So they had relied on each other growing up. Now, with their dad gone and their mother moved away, it wasn’t too different.

Brian looked at his brother and tried another approach.

“I appreciate what you do, but it’s getting complicated and you’re starting to get a little sloppy.”

Dylan shook his head. He shot his brother a dismissive look.

“We’re fine.” Dylan threw his napkin down on the chair, and then got up to see what was taking so long with his omelet.

When Dylan was out of earshot, Brian mumbled, “We’ll see.”

###

Harrison Grant eventually arrived. Once upon a time, Jolly Boy had been the client he milked for 40 percent of his annual billables. Back then, he would’ve walked on broken glass to keep Jolly Boy as a client, despite Dylan McNaughten’s increasingly crass and erratic behavior.

Now, however, Grant had bigger clients. He was bringing cases to trial and winning. His reputation was growing.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they fired him
, Harrison thought. Things were getting tricky. Every business walks a thin line between ethics and illegality. Being unethical was fine, but breaking the law could result in everybody going to prison.

“
Where have you been?” Dylan pushed his plate of half-eaten omelet away. “I got things to do.”

“
Things?” Harrison smiled. “Like what? I thought your brother was the one with the job.” He sat down at the table.

Brian appreciated this little jab at Dylan. He gave Harrison a pat on the back, and the attorney’s tardiness and inflated billable hours were momentarily forgiven.

“You wanted to meet with us?”

“
I did.” Harrison directed his attention at Brian, ignoring Dylan’s tantrum. “I got word today from a contact that the do-gooder lawyer identified the body.”

“You said they wouldn’t be able to identify it,” Brian said to Dylan accusingly.

Dylan shook his head.

“
I said they
probably
wouldn’t be able to identify it. No guarantees.”

They all sat for a moment.

Silence.

Nobody wanted to say anything further. Brian thought of all the spy movies and cop shows featuring tiny recording devices.
Keep up the wall
, Brian thought.
Deny everything
.  

Dylan, on the other hand, took the silence as an opportunity to finish his drink.

Harrison raised his hand.

“
There’s nothing for Jolly Boy to worry about,” he said. “You didn’t do anything, so there’s no link. Legal liability requires a link. No link, no liability and without liability there are no damages.”

“Nor should there be any connection to Jolly Boy,” Brian added,
thinking about the recording devices. He looked directly at his brother, and then continued with a loud, clear voice for the benefit of all of the imagined recording devices. “Jolly Boy had nothing to do with this person. He was merely an employee.”

Dylan shook his head. They were all being stupid, overreacting. He could fix this.

“So why are you telling us this? Do me and Maus gotta knock off this lawyer chick?”

“
No,” Harrison said. He didn’t appreciate the mess that Dylan was making for him. Dylan thought it was just a game, but Harrison was forced to advise him.  Harrison cleared his throat.

“
Do not knock off any person or any thing.”

Brian added, “Because nothing needs knocking off.”

Harrison continued.

“
I’m telling you this so that you can be prepared for the press inquiries,” Harrison ticked through the basics of an appropriate response. “Express condolences. Admit that you only just discovered he was here illegally after a detailed review of his fraudulent documents after the body was found. Say that he was no longer an employee of Jolly Boy.”

There was silence.

Dylan shook his head.

“
That’s it,” he said. “How much did that little bit of advice cost us?”

Dylan stood. He stretched out his arms, and then looked out at the dock.

“My boat is calling me.” He grabbed his crotch. “I got two babes waiting for a ride.”

Before he walked away, Dylan leaned over and whispered in Brian’s ear.

“The lawyer chick has got to go.”

Brian nodded his head. “It’s taken care of.”

“Really?” Dylan asked, standing. It was strange for his brother to be involved in a thing like this.

“
Really,” Brian said. “Today is her last day. Her nonprofit no longer exists.”

Dylan nodded.

“It’s about time you got your hands dirty.” He patted Brian on the head. “I’m proud of you.”

“
What’s that about?” Harrison asked as Dylan walked off. “I thought I told you it was best to stay away. No connections. Don’t get involved. Ignore her.”

Harrison slid his chair a little closer to Brian, as if he was about to impart great wisdom.

“In the 1960s General Motors started investigating Ralph Nader, and Nader sued them. Nader became famous and a major pain in the ass. If General Motors would have ignored him, Nader would just be a weird law school professor who writes books about cars that nobody reads.”

“
I agree,” Brian said, but then he looked around, still imagining the listening devices. He lowered his voice. “Attorney-client privilege?”

Harrison considered it, and then nodded.

Brian allowed a brief smile. He thought the plan was quite clever.

“
Tonight the board is going to vote to shut her down.”

“
You know this?” Harrison asked.

“
I know this,” Brian said. “The head of her nonprofit’s board belongs to the Miami University Club with me. Our kids take riding lessons together.”

Harrison nodded. He couldn’t see how shutting down an insolvent nonprofit was illegal. It was actually a clean resolution. The Community Immigrant Legal Services had been a nuisance, although it had also been a great source of billable hours over the years.

“You’re sure?” Harrison asked.

“
I’m sure,” Brian said. “The chair says he has no choice, actually sounded a little sad about it, as if he cared about these people.” He shook his head. “I played along, of course, to get more information.”

“
Then what?”

Brian smiled wide.

“This is the best part.” Brian paused, looked around again before continuing. “In a few days, I’ve arranged a little grant to a legal aid organization in Orange County, California. She’ll be offered another job. Seems there are migrant farm workers everywhere, and the further away from here the better. She won’t come back to Jesser. The California strawberry and spinach people will have to deal with her, instead of us.”

Harrison picked up his glass of ice water from the table. He leaned back and smiled.

“Very nicely done, Brian. I believe that would be checkmate.” Harrison raised his glass. “Very nicely played, indeed.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

It was dark by the time Michael, Kermit and Jane arrived at the office. Earlier in the evening, Jane had made a spaghetti dinner for them after work at her apartment. Kermit wanted to go to The Box, but neither Michael or Jane could handle another batch of grease.

The meal was supposed to be a thank you and maybe even a goodbye.

When they walked up to the door, Miggy was waiting for them, just like he had been waiting on the day that Michael and Kermit had first arrived.

Jane hadn’t seen him at first, distracted by the people she saw through the window. They were the members of her board, milling about her office, chatting.

Miggy coughed. His skinny body was folded up by the door. Next to him was his Army surplus backpack and sleeping bag.

He looked up at Jane.

“Wondering where you was.” He took a drag off of one of his hand-rolled cigarettes. “I seen the lights on and a little action inside, so I figured you’d be here. Can’t pull one over on ol’ Miggy.” His small laugh turned into a fit of coughs.

“
We’ve got a meeting tonight.” Jane crouched next to him. “So you can’t show me your secret. No spirits tonight.”

“
It’s important.” Miggy’s eyes got wide. “When you gonna come with me? The spirits are telling me to bring you there. I don’t want to make the spirits mad.”

“
I’m sorry, Miggy.” Jane put a hand on his shoulder, squeezed, and then stood. “It can’t be tonight. Those people inside might shut us down tonight, so it’s a big meeting.”

“
Them people in there now?” Miggy sat up further, and then pulled his slight body to his feet using the crutch. He looked into the window at the men and women in suits. “You need me to talk to ‘em. I’ll talk to them for ya. Put in a good word.”

“
Thanks,” Jane put her arm around him, “but I’ll take care of it.”

Kermit stepped forward.

“You and Michael go in,” he said. “I’m not much of a corporate-meeting type. Me and Miggy will go find a place for a hot meal and I’ll find him a good place to spend the night.”

Miggy
licked his lips, excited about the possibility of a meal.

“
Thank you,” Miggy said, and then to Jane, “I don’t want to leave you, though.”

“
I’ll be fine.” Jane turned to Michael and put on a brave face. “Let’s do it.”

###

The office felt heavy.
This is the end
, Jane thought. There were stilted conversations and forced laughter, but underneath it all, there was undeniable sadness.

Jane sat at one end of the table with the board members sitting in the rest of the chairs. Michael sat off to the side, merely observing the confessions and apologies.

“I’ve been with you from the beginning, Jane.” A middle-aged woman with clunky red glasses put her hand on her forehead, and then she began rubbing one of her temples. “I don’t understand the foundations. I don’t know why we can’t get the grants, but I do know that we can’t function without money. We’ve got nothing. It’s upsetting to me.”

“
Is that a statement in favor of the motion?” The board chair asked. He was a silver-haired man in a dark, tailored suit.

The chair waited, and eventually the woman with clunky red glasses nodded her head.

Another man spoke up, and the chair recognized him for the record.

He was bald with half-rimmed glasses.

“Jane, I know I speak for everyone when I say that this is not personal, but all of these foundations are looking for objective measurements of success. They want a big impact for their dollar. They want to know how many people you helped and how you helped them.”

He shook his head and looked around the office. It was the first time that Jane felt embarrassed by the mess of files.

The man with half-rimmed glasses continued.

“
The organization hasn’t been and wasn’t ever designed to do that. The days of wandering around the fields and asking workers what they want are over. We needed a strategic plan to improve their lives with measurable benchmarks. Frankly, I think Miami Legal Aid is in a better position as an organization to fill that role. They grasp the new normal. So I vote in favor of the motion.”

The chair scanned the other individuals sitting at the table.

“Anyone else?”

There were no further comments. The seven board members sat in silence.

“Do I have a motion to end discussion and vote on the motion?”

There was a motion from the woman with red glasses.

“And a second?”

A few other board members seconded the motion.

The board chair paused, and then cleared his throat.

“
We call the motion and it’s time for the vote. Assuming that the motion passes, we’ll begin the wind-down procedures for the organization. The office will officially close immediately, but we still need to assess assets and outstanding debts.”

Jane sat stoically at the end of the table. She knew that this day had been coming. She had thought about it, but still wasn’t prepared for the moment when it actually happened. She had been in denial.

She thought back to the beginning, and then she thought about now. Ten years of her life about to be ended by a vote.
No measurable results. No objective benchmarks of success
.

Jane thought about the half-dozen early agreements that she had negotiated with growers in
Jesser, improving working conditions. She got little things, like a place for some workers to go to the bathroom. Another grower built a shaded place for the workers to eat lunch. She blocked deportation proceedings, obtained green cards for family members and reunited husbands and wives. She made sure that the children of the workers were allowed access to the public school system, the hot lunch program, and health care.

No measurable results. No objective benchmarks of success.

Jane wanted to ask the board, “How do you measure the success of poverty lawyers when there will always be poverty? Every day there are choices. Do you work on the systemic or do you work on the problem staring at you right now and asking for help? Giving Miggy a hot meal wasn’t going to cure his mental illness or make him employable, but it was going to give him some dignity. That should count for something. There’s a balance.”

But Jane never asked the questions. She never made the argument. She was too tired to fight her own board of directors. Jane closed her eyes and reminded herself to breathe.

###

The meeting adjourned. The board members stood, stretched, and gathered up their things.

Jane remained seated. Each of the board members came up to her to express their sadness and disappointment that they had just voted to close the organization that she had started. Eventually they all left.

They had their own lives and families to take care of. They had their own careers to further, and ultimately the Community Immigrant Legal Services had been too much of a burden.

She watched them through the window. They got into their cars and SUVs that collectively cost more than the nonprofit’s annual budget. Each car and SUV was worth more than Jane’s yearly salary.

“
Lawyers are cheap bastards,” Jane said to nobody in particular.

Michael stood.

“Can I buy you a beer?”

Jane allowed a tear to escape. It rolled down her cheek.

“I did my best.” She wiped her cheek dry.

“
I know you did.” Michael put his hand on her shoulder. “Everybody knows you did.” Michael took Jane’s hand and pulled her up from her chair. “But, you still didn’t answer my question: Can I buy you a beer?”

Jane put her arms around Michael and pulled him in.

“You can buy me a beer.” She kissed his cheek, and then whispered in his ear. “I’ll even let you buy me more than one.”