Trap Line - Carl Hiaasen [21]
“I suppose the police report is accurate?” he began without introduction.
“They had to send you, huh?” Albury said, lighting a cigarette. “I guess I should feel lucky they’re giving me a lawyer.”
“That part is always understood. You know that.”
“Why you again?”
Boone scowled. “Why not?”
“Eleven months in Raiford is why not.”
“It was a locked case,” Boone reminded. “They got you cold on a boat. Just like this time, apparently.”
“This time was no accident,” Albury said. “I was set up.”
Boone made a palms-up gesture. “I wouldn’t know about that, Breeze. I get a call that a boat’s been taken down, I come down here to see you. That’s all I know.”
“Shit. Did Tom call you?”
“That I can’t say.” Boone studied the arrest form in the file. “A little more than two tons. And you were alone?”
Albury said nothing.
“Well,” Boone said, rising, “we’ll try the usual. I’ll file a motion tomorrow to have the dope suppressed as evidence. We’ll argue that Barnett boarded the boat illegally. Might work.”
Albury rose and seized the pudgy lawyer by one arm. “What about the Diamond Cutter?”
Boone shook free and slammed the briefcase shut. “Safe and sound. It’s over at Ming’s fish house.”
“Clean?” Albury demanded.
Boone nodded. “The fake name, too. It’s been removed.”
“What about my bond?”
“I’ll post it tomorrow morning. Cash.”
Albury stubbed the cigarette into the Formica. “You gonna talk to Tom?”
“Yep. Tonight.”
“Find out what happened.”
Boone rang for the jailer. “I’ll try.”
Albury snorted. “You’re my lawyer, Drake. Try real hard.”
The lawyer would not meet his eyes. “I’m getting you out tomorrow,” he said in a reedy voice.
The jailer opened the door and Boone sidled into the hallway.
“Don’t just get me out,” Albury called, “get me off!”
Through a window, he could see Boone shaking his head disgustedly. “Hey, Breeze, you’re welcome,” the lawyer said acidly through the door. “Think nothing of it.”
Laurie and Ricky showed up at supper time. She wore a pale blue sun dress and sandals; her hair was done back in a lush ponytail. The kid was dressed for baseball practice; he carried his glove and the new cleats. They sat at the same Formica table as Drake Boone. Laurie had brought a carton of Camels, but half of them had been skimmed off by one of the jailers. Albury smoked nervously.
“How are you doing?” Laurie asked tentatively.
“Marvelous,” Albury said. He noticed sadly how Ricky was staring down at the table. “I’m sorry, buddy,” Albury said. “They giving you a rough time?”
“Naw.”
Albury forced a smile. “I had some rough luck with my traps,” he began. “I wasn’t trying to be greedy, I was just tryin’ to get some of it back, you know … it seemed like a decent idea at the time.”
Laurie said, “Ricky understands, Breeze …”
“I’m talking to him, honey.” The words stopped her as surely as if Albury had pointed a gun at her head.
Ricky looked up. “It’s OK, Dad.”
“They set me up!”
Ricky nodded. “I figured that’s what it had to be. You woulda never got caught in a straight race. I figured it was an ambush.”
Albury smiled. “Right. You know, I think I could have got away in the Diamond Cutter. They gave me some old piece-of-shit Marathon boat.”
Albury glanced at Laurie. She started to giggle. Ricky was perking up.
“I heard they shot at you,” he said.
“Over my head is all. A grandstand act,” Albury said. “That fucking Barnett.”
“The paper said you rammed one of the police boats?”
“Just nicked it,” Albury said. “Those kids can’t drive.”
“It wrecked in the mangroves,” Ricky said.
“Really? No shit.” Albury cackled. “That was not necessary.”
“Yeah,” Laurie cut in cheerily. “The driver fell out and busted his collarbone.”
Ricky covered his mouth and laughed. Albury clapped his hands. “Well, damn,” he exclaimed, “I gave ’em a moment or two, right?”
“I guess so,” Ricky said, almost admiringly.
“I’m supposed to get my bond tomorrow. I should be out in time for the game with Tavernier.”
“Good, Dad. I was hoping.”
Albury squeezed Laurie’s hand. “How about you? You OK?”
“Sure. Bobby made a couple