Midnight Rambler_ A Novel of Suspense - James Swain [107]
“I know where Perez is taking her,” I said.
Linderman dropped his hand. “You do?”
I showed him the Rasta's key ring. “Perez is going to dump Melinda in the ocean. You need to call the police and tell them to search Perez's house. There should be a bill from a marina where he keeps his boat.”
“Why wouldn't Perez just shoot her and dump the body?” Linderman asked.
I shook my head. “The gang was setting me up. They were going to kill Melinda and make it look like I did it.”
“You?”
“They were trying to convince people I was the Midnight Rambler, and take the heat off Skell.”
I watched Linderman punch in the Broward cops' phone number on his cell. Raising the phone to his face, he said, “You're always thinking, aren't you, Jack?”
I realized he was complimenting me, and smiled grimly.
The mattress store was filled with beds. While Linderman was on his phone, I sat down on the edge of a king-size bed and removed Perez's cell phone from my pocket. It was still powered up, and I went straight into the address book, hoping to find the number for the marina.
The address book had several dozen entries. No full names were listed, just first and last initials. There was NB, who I assumed was Neil Bash, and PC, who I guessed was Paul Coffen. A listing near the end jumped out at me.
LS.
It could have been anybody, but my gut told me it was Leonard Snook. The listing had two numbers: one work, the other a cell.
Both had 305 area codes, which was Miami/Dade County. I punched in the work number. It rang through, and a woman picked up.
“Law office,” the woman said sternly.
“Is he in?” I asked.
“Is who in?” she asked suspiciously.
“Leonard Snook.”
“Mr. Snook is out of the office. If you'd like, you can leave a message.”
I said no thanks and hung up. Snook represented Simon Skell and Cecil Cooper, and now I had evidence he was connected to Jonny Perez. There was no law against representing abductors and serial killers, and I found myself hoping that Snook could be persuaded to help us find Perez before he killed Melinda. I pulled up his cell number from the address book and called it. After several rings he answered.
“I can't talk to you right now, Jonny,” the lawyer said in a whisper. “We just got into Fort Lauderdale, and Simon's giving a news conference to a bunch of dim-witted reporters. I'll call you back when he's done.”
Before I could reply, Snook ended the call. I couldn't believe what I'd just heard, and rose from the bed. On the other side of the store, the two employees stood by a desk drinking coffee. I walked over to them.
“Is there a TV in the store?” I asked.
They pointed at a portable TV sitting on the desk. It was so small, I hadn't even noticed it. I picked up the remote and channel-surfed. Skell's news conference was on the local ABC affiliate. He was staying at a nearby hotel.
Skell stood in front of a podium answering questions, his wife and attorney flanking him. He still wore the Old Navy sweatshirt and blue jeans. I jacked up the volume.
“What will you do, now that you're free?” a reporter asked.
“Go back to my work,” Skell said.
“Do you hold a grudge against Jack Carpenter for what he did to you?” the same reporter asked.
Skell leaned into the mikes. “Jack Carpenter will get what's coming to him.”
“Are you angry at him?”
“He'll get what's coming to him,” Skell repeated.
“Is it true there's a movie deal in the works?” another reporter called out.
Leonard Snook stepped up to the mike and announced that a major motion picture deal was in the works, with a famous Hollywood actor being considered to play his client. There was also a six-figure book contract with a prominent New York publishing house.
“Who's writing it?” a reporter asked.
“I am,” Snook said.
Something inside of me snapped. Attorneys made money representing scumbags, but Snook was profiting on his client's victims' misfortune. It was evil, pure and simple.
Without thinking of the ramifications, I called Snook