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Dan had to park the company car—the Jag F-Pace SVR—three blocks away, but eventually he found an empty space. Downtown St. Pete was usually popular—but not this popular. His destination was near the Dunedin area filled with restaurants and boutiques and quirky places to pass an afternoon. But he would never have imagined you could attract this kind of attention with a ribbon-cutting ceremony.
“Isn’t this the fourth shelter Sweeney’s opened in a couple of years?” Dan asked. “Why is it such a draw?”
“Slow news day,” Maria responded. “Sweeney knows how to generate publicity. I think he likes to be on camera. The center of attention.”
“Like all egomaniacs. He should run for president.”
She shook her head. “Too much scrutiny. Not enough profit.”
He slid out of the car and walked to the front lawn of the new women’s shelter where the ceremony would be held. The shelter had been built with a combination of taxpayer funds and private contributions, and Sweeney was taking credit for soliciting most of the contributions. The city had owned this prime stretch of unoccupied land for many years, so Sweeney scooped it up for his initiative.
As they approached the two-story brick structure, the front lawn was already covered with reporters, camera, and dignitaries, but also many people in casual dress, people who appeared to be there just because they wanted to be there.
“On the bright side,” Maria said, “we do need these shelters. Abused women need a safe place to escape. A place to take their children.”
“Abused men and women,” he corrected.
“Right, right. But abused men are a small minority of the cases and you know it.”
“Don’t we have a duty to protect minorities?”
“Of course, but—”
“Not when they’re white males?”
“Ok, stop mansplaining domestic abuse to me.”
“I’m not. I think every woman should feel safe, free to speak out, and every charge should be taken seriously. But we can’t forget that not all abusers are male, and not all men are sexual predators.”
“Point taken. Slight though it may be.” They filtered through the crowd and found a comfortable spot near the front. “Are we allowed to stand next to one another?”
He pulled a face. “We are in the same law firm.”
“But I know you want to keep our relationship on the downlow.”
“Just for now. Until I get this business with my father worked out. Till I can be fully present for you.”
“You sound like a character in a CW show.”
“I want to be the best me for you I can possibly be.”
“If you say, ‘It’s not you, it’s me,’ I’m gonna slap you.”
He smiled. “We can stand next to one another.”
“But no handholding?”
“That would seem a bit unprofessional.”
“Tickling? Smooching? Jumping into your arms and wrapping my legs around you?”
He tilted his head to the side. “I wouldn’t stop you.”
He noticed some activity behind the raised dais. Looked like the show was about to start. He steeled himself—then noticed a familiar female face making a beeline toward him.
Prudence Hancock. Sweeney’s assistant. The one he’d spotted in the courtroom the day The Captain was killed. “Leave, Pike. Now.”
She was dressed more conservatively than usual, in a black pantsuit that looked stifling in the Florida heat. “I thought this was open to the public.”
“Not to known troublemakers. This is a charitable event.”
“I’m a big fan of charity.”
She shifted her attention to Maria. “I know he’s a stubborn, pompous ass. But can’t you talk some sense into him?”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “Can you convince Sweeney to confess that he’s involved in South American smuggling cartels?”
Prudence snorted, a derisive, almost pitying expression. “You have no idea what you’re messing around with. The response you’re virtually demanding.”
“All I want are some straight answers.”
“All you’re going to get is a death sentence.” Prudence stopped, obviously making sure her words had their intended impact. “You’ve escaped—just barely—too many times, Pike. Your enemies are done trying to scare you. They just want you out of the way.”
“I saw you in the courthouse, Prudence. How’d you get the deputy to turn?”
“That deputy was having serious emotional problems. His wife left him.”
“Or was abducted.”
“His son was arrested on drug charges. Pushing. He was looking at ten years, minimum.”
“But the charges were dropped after the complaining witness disappeared.”
“I don’t know anything about that.”
He stepped closer. “I don’t believe you.”
Prudence drew in her breath. “Despite what you think, Pike, I don’t dislike you. In fact, I think you’re kinda hot. I don’t want to see you wasted before I have a chance to see if you’re as tasty as you look.”
Maria pointed her finger into her mouth and made a gagging sound.
“But if you continue on this path,” Prudence said, “not even I will be able to save you.”
“The show is starting,” Dan said, not breaking eye contact. “Shouldn’t you be up there massaging Sweeney’s feet or changing his diaper or whatever it is you do?”
Prudence gave Maria one last look. “I want you to remember this. I want you to remember that I tried to help him. But he refused to listen.”
She pivoted on one heel and marched away.
“Brrrr,” Dan said. “Is it just me, or is every visit with her like the sudden onset of a killer frost?”
“Sweeney needs someone to be nasty. So he doesn’t have to.”
“In public.”
“But you know, Dan...she’s not wrong. You’ve been attacked twice. Framed for murder. What’s next?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t have answer. And thinking about it sent chills down his spine.
The first speaker on the program was not Sweeney but the current mayor of the city, former Deputy Mayor Denton, who took over after Camila Pérez—his former flame—tendered her resignation—and pled guilty to conspiracy to murder.
“Thank you all for joining us today. It warms my heart to see so many of you here. St Pete has always had an amazing level of community involvement. We’ve been through some traumatic events of late. Gang warfare. COVID-19. Political turmoil. But we are good people, strong people, and we will persevere.”
A small cry rose from the rear. Planted cheering section? Probably.
“And today we celebrate another great step forward for the community, for securing safety and peace of mind for all our citizens, a sanctuary, another Sweeney House for those needing a short-term safe venue. Ladies and gentlemen, let me please introduce the man who has made this possible, whose endless largesse has done so much for us—Conrad Sweeney.”
Sweeney moved with considerable grace despite his enormous girth. He was three hundred if he was a pound, though he masked some of that with his immaculately tailored white suit. He was completely bald, flashed French cuffs, and wore Italian shoes that probably cost a thousand bucks. Which Dan recognized because he had a similar pair. That he had never worn.
Sweeney beamed, spreading his arms wide as if he were about to embrace the entire audience. “My friends. Thank you so much for joining me here today. Our city is growing by leaps and bounds, improving every day, and there can be no surer sign of that than our spectacular new mayor. It’s no secret that I had some...objections to prior administrations, and I think my instincts there have proven to have merit. But now we have the leader we need, and with his guidance, St Pete could go anywhere. Anywhere!”
Another cheer rose, from the same people as before, unless Dan was mistaken. He and Maria exchanged a glance. Despite her flaws, Camila at least had a vision for the city. The new guy was a sycophant. Sweeney was elated because they had replaced a leader he couldn’t control with a leader he could control without trying hard.
“The purpose of the Sweeney House is to ensure that every citizen has a safe place to live, to grow, to flourish, to explore new horizons. In recent years we have become increasing aware of the threats to our society, threats eating it away from the inside. We must end domestic abuse. We should have a zero tolerance policy for anyone who strikes another with physical violence. And we must stand firm against other threats as well, threats to the American way of life, people who don’t understand what it means to be a real American.”
Dan scrutinized Sweeney carefully as he spoke. Sweeney was a hard one to read. It was almost as if he knew Dan was watching and made a conscious effort to eliminate all tells.
Maria whispered, “A real American? What does that mean?”
“A rich white male, probably.”
“Is he reading this off a teleprompter?”
“No. He doesn’t have to. He’s smart.”
Maria made a harrumphing sound. “Probably has his talking points written on his hand.”
“But this is just the beginning,” Sweeney continued. “We have plans for much more than just the Sweeney Houses. We’ve been in conversations with the designers of The Gathering Place, our magnificent new park network, to add Sweeney Afterschool Centers, places where children of working parents can engage in wholesome activities, not just staring at screens. Learning valuable life skills. We are acquiring land for the Sweeney Rehab Centers, to help people struggling with addictive problems can get the help they need. And much much more. St. Pete will become America’s model city. But I can only do this with your help. Will you join with me to make this city a better place?”
This time the cheering was not limited to the cluster in the rear. He had even some of the reporters applauding.
“You know, Dan,” Maria murmured, “if you go through with this, you’re about to become the most reviled person in the city.”
“I’m a defense attorney,” he muttered. “I’m used to it.”
As the applause died, Sweeney stepped away from the podium. “I’m afraid my schedule is quite full, but I think I have time to take a few questions.” Off to the side, he could see Prudence subtly shaking her head no, but he either didn’t see or didn’t care. “Are there any questions?”
An ocean of hands flew up—including Dan’s. Unsurprisingly, he was not chosen.
An attractive blonde reporter near the front jumped when his finger pointed to her. “Mr. Sweeney, all these plans sound wonderful, but expensive. How will we pay for them?”
“Through the enormous generosity of the successful entrepreneurs of this city. My hope is that we can proceed without any taxpayer dollars, just through private donations from people like Albert Kazan and Richard Brookings, and of course, myself.”
The reporter followed up fast. “But sir, there are reports that you’re experiencing some financial setbacks. Will this impact your plans?”
Sweeney smiled, waving his hand in the air. “Simply temporary cash-flow issues. It happens to every business. This world has been through some tremendous economic setbacks this year. But we’ll bounce back. SweeTech is a strong as ever.”
Sweeney pointed to a reporter on the far left, but Dan cut in before the man had a chance to speak. “Mr. Sweeney, isn’t it true that the vast majority of your wealth comes from illegal smuggling activities? And has for decades.”
The crowd appeared stunned. What?
Sweeney drew in his breath. His eyes flared for only an instant. Then the calm settled back in. “I called on Mr. Smith from the Tamp Bay Times.”
“Yes,” Dan shouted, “but I’d like an answer to my question. When are you going to come clean with the people of the city? We don’t need rehabs financed by sex trafficking and black-market organ sales.”
In the corner of his eye, he saw Prudence point to two security officers. He didn’t have much time.
“Many people believe you were behind the courtroom execution of the man known as The Captain, who was involved with a South American human smuggling cartel.”
“These are lies,” Sweeney said, his jaw locking. “Filthy lies. Don’t we have security?”
A tumult arose. In the distance Dan could see officers making their way toward him. He had maybe seconds left. “They aren’t lies, Sweeney. I have the proof. And soon I’ll have more.”
“Just for the record,” Sweeney said, “the arrogant young man speaking is Daniel Pike, a criminal lawyer who has put dozens of drug dealers and murderers back on the street, including the man responsible for the horrendous Trademark Massacre.”
“That’s not true.”
“The Pike family has been a blight on this city for generations.” Sweeney’s face flushed. Dan had finally managed to crack his calm-and-collected veneer, at least a little. “His father was a dirty cop and a convicted murderer. And what a coincidence—this Pike has been accused of murder as well. I guess what they say about the murder gene is true. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Evil is inherited.”
“That’s a slanderous lie!”
“That’s a matter of public record.”
“My father was a hero.”
“Only to the underworld. He was a crook with significant ties to organized crime. And whenever a new story breaks involving this smuggling cartel—you’re always involved.”
The security officers arrived. He noticed that the tv cameras were no longer focused on Sweeney. They were focused on him.
“Come with us, sir,” the lead officer said.
Dan shrugged them off. “Leave me alone. I haven’t committed a crime.”
“Don’t make me use force, sir.”
“Isn’t this still a free country, Sweeney? Are you using Gestapo troops to silence dissent? Using military force to suppress public protest?”
Sweeney rolled his eyes. Prudence inched behind him and whispered in his ear. “Perhaps I should just end the conference. I don’t want a riot. I invite any legitimate members of the press to email me questions.”
“You can silence this conference, Sweeney, but you can’t silence me. We’ll continue this conversation later.”
Sweeney shook his head. “As God is my witness, Mr. Pike, I hope I never lay eyes on you again in my life.”
“But you will.” He gave the man a small salute. “See you in court.”