Just Grand

Chapter 7 | What I Have Failed To Do

Photo by 萧羽 李 on Unsplash

Agent McDowell sat down, his face alight with a grin that Gus didn’t mirror. “Let’s freaking do this,” he said, pumping his fist quietly at his side.

“Let’s do this,” Gus replied in spite of himself. “We’re on the docket for the grand jury session a week from tomorrow. Who do I need to chat with ahead of time?”

“Lea—Ms. Harvey, for sure. I can connect the two of you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

“Just write her name and phone number down on the sheet,” Gus replied, sliding a form across the table. “I’ll reach out directly.”

The other man paused. “Oh, of course.” Gus would have sworn his face had fallen, but he couldn’t understand why. “And then I think it would be good to get the Rodriguez widow involved as well, if she’s available.”

Gus cocked his head. “Rodriguez widow?”

His eyebrows furrowed, lips turned in the slightest frown. “The most famous death at the prison. Her husband was wrongly convicted and killed before he was found innocent and set to be released.”

Gus exhaled sharply. “Lord, have mercy. Poor woman.”

Robert nodded. “They had a kid at home, too. Horrible situation all around.” He looked down at the paper Gus had given him, glanced at his phone, and began copying down contact information. “I think it’d be good to get Matt Bailey on board now, if he’s feeling up to it.”

Gus opened his mouth, but McDowell anticipated his question. “Matt was a guard at the prison for years. Ended up leaving because of the so-called rehab program. He’s been in a bad way the last couple of days, so he may prefer to sit the grand jury out, but if we can push him just a little, I think that would really lock down our case for next week. Everyone else can wait until we get the green light to move forward, but to be totally honest, I’d trust these three to lock down a full conviction if this were the real deal, so I think we’ll be rock-solid for the indictment.”

Gus nodded. “Sounds good to me. Contact info on the sheet, and a quick one or two lines about what they know, and I can follow up with them before the end of the week.”

“Perfect,” McDowell replied, scribbling as he spoke. “I leave town this afternoon, but I’ll be back next week, and you have my cell in case you need anything between now and then.”

“Of course. I’ll have Marty email you with the details for next week so you can book flights.” Gus looked up at McDowell and nodded. “I assume you’d like to testify as well?”

“Obviously. And you have my thoughts on the initial findings in the packet I gave you last time I was here, but I have a lot to say about the sting operation yesterday as well.”

Gus snorted, in spite of himself. “Yes, I see it was quite the day.”

McDowell cocked his head, his eyes asking a question.

“The black eye?” Gus replied, incredulous. Surely, he hadn’t forgotten about it already?

“Oh, yeah,” McDowell snickered. “That.”

Damn. What kind of life did this FBI man lead that he could just forget about a shiner? Gus pulled out a recorder and his composition book, started a recording, and turned to an empty page. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s hear it.”

“Now?” Robert glanced between the recorder and Gus’ pen. “I mean, fair enough. I’ve got some time before my flight, and it’ll be easier to do this while it’s still fresh.” He rubbed his forehead and sighed, placing an elbow on the table. “So we had this whole plan, right? And it… sort of worked. But,” he shuddered. “When I think about how close we came to it not working, I…” his voice trailed off.

Gus let the silence sit in the room for a moment, feeling the weight of it settle on the desk between them. He took a quiet sip of his coffee and set the mug down on its coaster. “Remember, at this point, all we need to do is prove that there’s reason to believe they may have committed the crimes. We don’t need an airtight story.”

Robert nodded, lips drawn tight. He sighed again. “They tried to kill us, Mr. Butler.”

Gus paused, waiting.

“And I knew, in my head, that they would. We needed them to tell us what they were doing with the bodies, and the only way we could get his defenses down enough to reveal that was to make him think he’d won, and the only way he’d think he’d won was if he had us completely neutralized. Leah told me he wouldn’t be able to resist a little bit of gloating, and she was right, of course, but then he had me restrained and left the room with a tray full of poison sitting next to me, just letting me marinate in the inevitability of my impending death, and all of the sudden it wasn’t a theory anymore.” He looked around the room, eventually landing his gaze on his hands. “I’ve faced death before, but this was different.”

Gus set his pen down and leaned back in his chair, wondering when he was going to get to the actually useful information. “Do I have this correct? You were trying to goad him into killing you—or, at least, thinking he would have the pleasure of killing you—and then you were… surprised…? when he tried to kill you?”

If McDowell’s eyes could shoot fire, Gus was certain he would be in flames. “Really, man?”

Gus looked back down at his notebook, which had almost no notes in it. “I need you to tell me why twelve random individuals off the street would believe that a critically acclaimed, highly decorated physician would try to end your life, on top of the charges we already discussed, which were…” He flipped back a few pages. “Malpractice, fraud, and homicide. Your emotional meltdown, while embarrassing, is not evidence in any meaningful sense of the word.”

He felt the sting of the words as he said them, but he couldn’t stop himself. How dare this man show up and force a mental breakdown on him. He was a lawyer, not a therapist, for heaven’s sake. No sense of decorum these days.

McDowell grumbled, straightened his posture, and took a deep breath. “Jude Junior defected and stepped in to save our lives. He is open to consider a plea deal, but even so, I doubt he’d come for the grand jury since he wouldn’t have a lawyer with him. My team can testify to the story, and the doctor who examined myself and Ms. Harvey at the prison may also be willing to participate.” He looked directly at Gus before continuing. “Is that objective enough for you?”

Gus knew the quip was well-deserved, but he pretended not to hear it as he finished scribbling his notes. “Quite, thank you. Names and phone numbers for everyone you’ve mentioned on the sheet, please, and I’ll follow up with them this afternoon. If I need anything from you specifically, I’ll let you know.”

The other man blinked. “You don’t want anything else from me while I’m here?”

It took all of Gus’ self-control not to respond that he’d give any amount of money to get McDowell out of his office as quickly as possible. “No, I think I know what I need from you. As I said, if there’s anything else that comes up, I’ll reach back out.”

McDowell shook his head. Something in his eyes made Gus’ stomach twist. “Well then,” he said, voice strained. “You know where to find me. I’ll see you next week.”

Gus only nodded as McDowell walked away. When the door of his office clicked shut, he slid the contact sheet back across his desk and scanned it. Everything seemed to be in order. Phone calls would be an afternoon task.

As he considered his game plan for the following week, Gus’ mind drifted from the case to the McNeill Institute, and from the McNeill Institute to Theo. It had occurred to him that he really ought to chat with Jones about the obvious conflict of interest, with Theo working at the clinic and all, but he knew that Jones would just tell him to keep it quiet and keep moving forward with the case.

Plus, if Gus were honest with himself, he was invested in this one already—more than he had any business being, of course, but what could he do?

Anyway, time to hit the grindstone, or whatever the saying was. Petal to the metal. He picked up his phone, punched the numbers from McDowell’s list, and brought the phone to his ear.

“Yeah, Mom, hang on,” said a voice. Distant, talking to someone else. “I don’t know who this is but I’ve got to get it.” The tone got colder and more formal: “This is Leonora?”

“Hello, Leonora. My name is Gus Butler, I’m with the DA’s office. I’m calling with regard to the upcoming grand jury session for a criminal case on which you’ve been listed as a key witness. Would you have some time to come into my office this week so we can debrief in advance?”

He heard a sharp intake of breath and could almost see the dinner plate eyes on the poor girl. She sounded hardly more than a child. “Yes, I can do that. Just let me know what time you’d like me to come in. I’m…” she hesitated. “I’m in between jobs right now, so my calendar is open.”

“Wonderful. How does Tuesday at nine sound?”

“Yeah, um, sure, that’s fine.” She sounded distracted. Distressed. Gus found himself wincing, unable to articulate why. “Just text me the address, I guess.”

“Will do. Thank you, ma’am.” The ma’am slipped out by force of habit, a mix of apology and comfort and formality.

“Yeah, see you Tuesday, then. Bye.”

The call ended. Gus moved on to the next name on the list. Rodriguez widow. No first name. Classic. He grunted, dialed the number, and tried his best to still the butterflies in his stomach. The phone clicked as if someone had answered it, but no one spoke.

“Hello..?” Gus tested.

“Who is this?” It was a woman’s voice. Enough of an accent that Gus could notice but not enough that it was difficult for him to understand her. “Hello?”

“My name is Augustus Butler. I’m with the DA’s office. I’m calling with regard to a criminal case that I’m trying. You’ve been listed as a possible witness.” Gus didn’t want to just bring up her murdered husband in cold blood, but…

“Is this about that bastard Pierucci?”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, ma’am. I’d like to have you come in to my office to discuss the possibility of serving as a witn—”

“I can be there in an hour.” She didn’t even let Gus finish his sentence. “Where is your office?”

Gus relayed the address to her and confirmed their rapidly approaching appointment. “I look forward to talking with you further,” he finished.

“I look forward to giving that man a piece of my mind. And I’ll do whatever it takes to get him locked up. I’ll see you soon.” She hung up quickly, leaving Gus reeling with some sort of conversational whiplash.

The Bailey guy, Matt, didn’t pick up the phone, but from what McDowell had said, that wasn’t too surprising. Gus followed up with a very brief introductory text but made sure to emphasize that his participation wasn’t urgent yet. He hated the thought of pushing the man to his limits before he was ready.

The last name on the list was a doctor, but it wasn’t a direct line, so Gus left a message with the nurse to request a callback.

He sat back in his chair, looked around, and stretched his whole body, like a cat waking up from a nap. A sip of his coffee revealed that it had gone tepid, but he downed the whole up all the same. A shake of the head, a roll of the shoulders, and he was back to business. He needed to prep for his visit with… he hadn’t even caught her name. The Rodriguez widow.

-

Eight days later, Gus straightened his tie and looked around. It always amazed him that justice was handed down in a tattered old classroom. A dozen tired-looking citizens holding court, deciding whether or not each case would move forward. Beside him sat his motley crew of witnesses: Agent McDowell, the brunette with the eyes, the Hispanic mom, the nerdy doctor, and the bald man with the beard and the bags under his eyes.

“Here we go,” Gus muttered to no one in particular. “Let’s freaking do this.”

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You’re reading What I Have Failed To Do, a serialized first-draft from Sara Dietz at Blinking Blue Line. If you’re new ‘round these parts, welcome! If you’ve enjoyed what you’ve read, I’d love to have you stick around.

And if you’re in the mood for your next favorite story, check out my crime/medical thriller, Remembrance, or my fantasy-quest serialized novella, The Ravenswing Report.