“I guess we’d better get used to it,” I say. “The insurance company is dragging its feet. Plus it’ll take a month to get a new one customized.” We’re moving through downtown traffic, just a couple of delivery boys with a van full of furniture. He stops in front of City Hall and parks illegally. A U-Haul van with such vivid colors is bound to attract a swarm of traffic cops.
“I chatted with Miguel,” he says.
“And how did that go?” I ask, my hand on the door handle.
“Okay. I just explained things, said you were getting squeezed by some tough guys and needed a little protection. He said he could take care of it, said it was the least he and the guys could do for you and all that happy crap. I emphasized that no one gets hurt, just a friendly hello to Tubby and Razor so they’d get the message.”
“What do you think?”
“It’ll probably work. Link’s gang is pretty thin these days, for obvious reasons. Most of his muscle is gone. I doubt if his boys want to mix it up with a drug gang.”
“We’ll see. Back in thirty minutes,” I say as I get out.
Woody canceled his trip to Washington and is waiting in his office with Moss. Both look as though they’ve had a bad weekend. It’s Monday and my goal is to ruin the rest of their week. There are no handshakes, no forced pleasantries, not even the offer of coffee.
I jack up the tension with “Okay, boys, do we have a deal? Yes or no? I want an answer now, and if I get the wrong answer I’ll leave this building and walk down the street to the
Woody stares at the floor and says, “Deal.”
Moss slides across a document and says, “This is a confidential settlement agreement. The insurance company will pay the first million now. The City will kick in half a million this fiscal year, same for next. We have a litigation reserve fund we can manipulate, but we need to split the two payments between this year and next. It’s the best we can do.”
“That’ll work,” I say. “And when will the chief and the SWAT boys get the ax?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Moss says. “And that’s not in this agreement.”
“Then I won’t sign the agreement until they are terminated. Why wait? What is so difficult about getting rid of these guys? Hell, the whole city wants them canned.”
“So do we,” the mayor says. “Believe me, we want them out of the picture. Just trust us on this, Rudd.”
I roll my eyes at the word “trust.” I pick up the agreement and read it slowly. A phone buzzes on the mayor’s imposing desk but he ignores it. When I finish reading, I drop it on the table and say, “Not one word of apology. My client’s wife is murdered, he gets shot, then he gets dragged through a criminal trial, faces prison, goes through hell and back, and not one word of apology. No deal.”
Woody utters a bitter “Shit!” and jumps to his feet. Moss rubs his eyes as if he might start crying. Seconds pass, then a full minute, with nothing said. Finally, I glare at the mayor and say, “Why can’t you man up and do what’s right? Why can’t you call one of your press conferences, just like you do for every other minor crisis, and start with an apology to the Renfro family? Announce a settlement in the civil case. Explain that after a thorough investigation it’s now clear that the SWAT team disregarded all rules of procedure and safety and that the eight cops are being terminated, immediately. And their boss goes with them.”
“I don’t really need your advice when it comes to doing my job,” Woody says, but it’s a lame response.
“Maybe you do,” I say. I’m tempted to storm out again, but I don’t want to lose the money.
“Okay, okay,” Moss says. “We’ll redraft it and throw in some language addressing the family.”
“Thank you,” I say. “I’ll be back tomorrow, after the press conference.”
I meet Doug Renfro for lunch in a coffee shop near his home. I explain the settlement, and he is thrilled to be getting two million. My contracted fee is 25 percent, but I’ll cut it to only 10 percent. He is surprised by this and, at first, wants to argue. I’d like to give him all the money, but I do have some overhead. After I split with Harry & Harry, I’ll net around $120,000, which is low for the time I’ve spent on the case, but still a decent fee.
As he takes a sip of coffee, his hand starts shaking and his eyes suddenly water. He sets the cup down and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I just want Kitty,” he says, lips quivering.
“I’m sorry, Doug,” I say. What else?
“Why did they do it? Why? It was so senseless. Kicking in the doors, guns blazing like idiots, the wrong house. Why, Sebastian?”
All I can do is shake my head.
“I’m outta here, I’ll tell you that right now. Gone. I hate this city and the clowns who run it, and I gotta tell you, Sebastian, with these eight cops now out of work and pissed off and looking for trouble, I don’t feel safe. You shouldn’t either, you know?”
“I know, Doug. Believe me, I think about it all the time. But then, I’ve pissed them off before. I’m not one of their favorites.”
