Lacy glanced at her watch and shoved her cup away another inch or two. She exhaled and said, “Look, I’ve had a lot for one day and I have a long drive. Let’s take a break.”
“Sure, but you have to promise me complete confidentiality, Lacy. Understood?”
“Okay, but I have to discuss this with my boss.”
“Can he be trusted?”
“It’s a she and the answer is yes. This is delicate work, as you might guess. We’re dealing with the reputations of elected judges and we understand discretion. No one will know anything until they have to know. Fair enough?”
“I guess. But you have to keep me in the loop.”
* * *
—
The twenty-minute drive back to the cemetery was subdued. To keep things light, Lacy asked about Jeri’s daughter, Denise, a graduate student at the University of Michigan. No, she did not remember her grandfather and knew little about his murder. Jeri was intrigued by Lacy’s life as an attractive single woman who had never married, but that conversation fizzled. Lacy was accustomed to such curiosity and had no patience with it. Her dear late mother had hounded her for years about growing old alone and childless, and Lacy was adept in deflecting the nosiness.
At the cemetery, Jeri handed her a cloth shopping bag and said, “Here are some files, just some preliminary stuff. There’s a lot more.”
“For the first three, I presume?”
“Yes. My father, Thad Leawood, and Danny Cleveland. We can discuss the others later.”
The bag was heavy enough already and Lacy wasn’t sure she wanted to take possession. She couldn’t wait to get in her car, lock the door, and drive away. They said their goodbyes, promised to talk soon and so on, and left the cemetery.
Halfway to Tallahassee, Lacy’s phone buzzed with a call from Allie. He would be in late and wanted a pizza and wine by the fire. She had not seen him in four days and suddenly missed him. She smiled at the idea of cuddling up with a seasoned FBI agent and talking about something other than their work.
7
Darren Trope bounced into her office bright and early Wednesday morning and began with “Well, well, how was the PD? Do something exciting?”
“Not really.”
“Did you miss us?”
“No, sorry,” Lacy replied with a smile. She was about to reach for a file, one of about a dozen stacked neatly in a rack at the corner of her desk. A judge down in Gilchrist County was irritating both lawyers and litigants alike with his inability to set cases for trials. Alcohol was rumored to be involved. Lacy had reluctantly decided the allegations had merit and was preparing to notify His Honor that he was under investigation.
“Sleep late? A long fancy lunch somewhere with our FBI boy?”
“They’re called personal days for a reason.”
“Well, you didn’t miss anything around here.”
“I’m sure of that.”
“I’m going out for some decent coffee. Want anything?”
“Sure, the usual.”
Darren’s coffee runs were taking longer and longer. He had been at BJC for two years and showing all the usual signs of being bored with a stalled career. He left, she closed the door behind him, and tried to concentrate on another drunk judge. An hour passed with little progress and she finally shoved the file aside.
Maddy Reese was her most trusted colleague around the office. She had been there for four years and, among the four lawyers, was now second in seniority, far behind Lacy. She tapped on the door as she walked through it and said, “Got a minute?”
The last director had imposed an open-door policy that had led to a freewheeling culture in which privacy was almost impossible and work was routinely interrupted. But he was gone now, and though most office doors were closed, old habits were hard to break.
“Sure,” Lacy said. “What’s up?”
“Cleo wants you to review the Handy matter, thinks we should get involved.”
Cleo was Cleopatra, the secret nickname of the current director, an ambitious woman who had managed to alienate the entire office in a matter of weeks.
“Not Handy again,” Lacy said in frustration.
“Oh yes. Seems he keeps overturning zoning ordinances in favor of a certain developer, who just happens to be a friend of his nephew.”
“This is Florida. That’s not uncommon.”
“Well, the adjoining landowners are upset and they’ve hired lawyers. Another complaint was filed against him last week and things do look rather suspicious. I know how much you love zoning cases.”