“That’s where he works,” Jeri said, looking at the courthouse. “We won’t go in.”
“I’ve seen enough.”
“There are cameras everywhere.”
“Do you really think Bannick would recognize you? I mean, come on. You’ve never met the man and he has no idea who you are or what you’re after, right?”
“Right, but why take the chance? Actually, I walked in one time, years ago. It was the first day of a term and the courthouse was crawling with people, over a hundred prospective jurors summoned for duty. I stayed in the crowd and had a look around. His courtroom is on the second floor, his office just down the hall. It was really weird, almost overwhelming, just being in the same place as the man who killed my father.”
Lacy was struck by the certainty of her words. With no proof, no evidence, she was convinced Bannick was a murderer. And she, Lacy, was expected to get involved and somehow find truth and justice.
They circled the square and left downtown. Jeri said, “I need some coffee. You?”
“Sure. Is the tour over?”
“Yes, but we have much more to talk about.”
6
At the edge of town they stopped at a chain restaurant and went inside. At two thirty the place was empty and they chose a booth in a corner, far away from the deserted bar. Jeri carried a large bag, too big for a purse. Lacy assumed it contained files. They ordered coffee and sipped ice water while they waited.
Lacy said, “On more than one occasion you’ve described Thad Leawood as the first. Who was the second?”
“Well, I don’t know how many victims there are, so I can’t be certain Thad was the first. My project has uncovered six, so far. Thad was 1991, and I think my father was number two, the following year.”
“Okay. And you don’t want me to take notes.”
“Not yet.”
“Danny Cleveland, the reporter, was 2009. So was he the third?”
“I don’t think so.”
Lacy exhaled in exasperation. “Forgive me, Jeri, but I’m pulling teeth here. I’m getting frustrated again.”
“Be patient. Number three, on my list anyway, was a girl he knew in law school.”
“A girl?”
“Yes.”
“And why did he kill her?”
The coffee arrived and they went silent. Jeri mixed in cream and took her time. She glanced around casually and said, “Let’s deal with that one later. We’ve talked about three. That’s enough for now.”
“Sure. But just curious—do you have more proof in the other three than you have for the first ones?”
“Not really. I have motive and I have method. That’s all. But I’m convinced they’re all linked to Bannick.”
“Got that. He’s been on the bench for ten years. Do you suspect him in any case after he became a judge? In other words, is he still at it?”
“Oh yes. His last one was two years ago, a retired lawyer living in the Keys. A former big firm guy they found strangled on his fishing boat.”
“I remember that. Kronkite, or something like that?”
“Kronke, Perry Kronke, eighty-one years old when he caught his last fish.”
“It was a sensational case.”
“Well, at least for Miami. Down there they have more murdered lawyers per capita than any other place. Quite a distinction, huh?”
“Drug trafficking.”
“Of course.”
“And the connection to Bannick?”
“He was an intern in Kronke’s firm in the summer of 1989, then he got stiffed when there was no job offer. Evidently it really pissed him off, because he waited two decades to get revenge. He has remarkable patience, Lacy.”
It took Lacy a moment to absorb this. She sipped her coffee and looked out the window.
Jeri leaned in and said, “In my opinion, as a pseudo expert in serial killers now, it was his biggest mistake, so far. He murdered an old lawyer with many friends and who once had a fine reputation. Two of his victims were men of stature—my father and Kronke.”
“And their murders were twenty years apart.”
“Yes, that’s his MO, Lacy. It’s unusual but not unheard of for sociopaths.”
“I’m sorry but I’m not up on the lingo here. I deal with judges who are mentally sound, for the most part, and screw up when they ignore cases or mix personal business with their judicial duties.”
Jeri smiled knowingly and sipped her coffee. Another glance around, then, “A psychopath has a severe mental disorder and antisocial behavior. A sociopath is a psychopath on steroids. Not exactly medical definitions but close enough.”