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Since I had the cruiser anyway, I drove to a Hardee's for take out biscuits. If nothing else Jane, the Junkie, was going to put on some weight while she was with me.
That might not last long since Royce, her new keeper, was convict thin. You know the ones who eat their meals and nothing else. Nobody brings them candy and their canteen fund is empty. They are the ones who run and lift weights every day. At least that is how he looked to me during our short visit.
Of course he was in one of those prison jumpsuits, anything could be hiding inside one of those. Possibly even Jimmy Hoffa.
When I reached the office at 8:15AM, Sam and Royce were drinking coffee and chatting like old friends. I did hope Royce's time in prison didn't mean he and Sam had things in Common.
"Good morning all," I said smiling at them. I was trying to be cheerful, even if I didn't feel it. I was lost with the Jane thing and I didn't have near enough clients to cover my growing overhead ... In other words I was faking cheerful and doing a damn good job I might add.
"Good Morning Ms Ayers," Royce said. "I suppose that is Jane with you?"
"It is and as of this minute she is your responsibility keep her alive until she identifies a killer." I said.
"Word is that the killer is an undercover gone wrong," he said.
"I don't know that, but Jane says his name is Ansel. Max Hammond said he was a cop. That's all I know." I replied.
"You have kept her alive past the point where killing her will prevent an ID. Now it is just keeping her alive long enough to testify. That is usually the cop's job to handle," he said.
"Royce you know they don't have a clue how many or who is dirty. They could be putting the fox in charge of protecting the hens," I suggested.
"True so they have you doing it. That could be so that they can get you both killed. Two birds one stone kind of thing," he said.
"And exactly what is my dad's dog in the fight?" I asked.
"Why do you think he has one?" Royce asked.
"I know my dad that should be enough, he does nothing that doesn't benefit him. You are here because he got you an early release. and now you owe him, so what is the payoff?" I asked.
"You really are suspicious," he said with a laugh. "Your daddy's advice to me was to keep you alive and well. If Jane got killed by the cops, too fucking bad, but you better not get a scratch. So that's my plan, to do whatever it takes to keep you healthy."
"Well right now keep Jane alive and well and that will make me happy," I said.
"Happy wasn't part of the deal, but I can try a little extra service for my pay," he said.
"Here is the deal Royce, I have three clients I need to go to the jail to interview. You need to stay here and keep Sam and Jane healthy. What I have in this large plastic bag does not belong to you. It is just to be used by Sam in case of an imminent threat. I guess if worse came to worse you could defend yourself with Sam's weapon, but I has to be in his desk, not yours."
"I got it counselor. It's a numbers game. Judged by 12 or carried by 6, not to worry I don't want to go back inside, so it will be absolutely necessary, if I do it."
"I am an officer of the court. You do not have my permission to use that weapon," I suggested.
"Stop beating the dead horse Ms. Ayers, I got it." he admitted.
"It was nice to leave Jane and not worry about her running from Sam or having someone show up with a bag of junk for her. Of course I should be worried about Royce. According to some folks he was a stone Junkie himself. Since my dad vouched for him, I was willing to give him a try. I just was not willing to take him on faith.
"I am going to jail, but I'll be back by lunch and we can make plans," I said as I walked out the door. The clients were nickel and dime criminals, but they still had to be defended. I didn't mind The one truly innocent client was still out there somewhere just waiting for me. In the meantime I would deal with the burglary suspect, the guy who tried to rob a convenience store with a knife, only to find that the owner had a Glock and of course the drug dealer who got busted with felony weight in his pocket.
When I finally worked my way through to the drug dealer, on a purely wild possibility that he might be able to help himself some, I asked. "Do you know a junkie named Ansel?"
"You mean the cop who shot LowBall?" he asked.
"Did everybody know he was a cop?" I asked.
"No, but just as soon as one knew we all knew. The street is alive with people who have tales to tell," he said.
"Well if you can tell me where Ansel is, I might can work a deal with the DA for you," I suggested.
"If I knew I would definitely have told you already. I got no use for cops and I kind liked old LowBall," he said.
"Too bad Cheech, you got caught holding way more than felony weight. You are most likely going in for a while. With your record a long while, unless you got something I can deal," I suggested.
"I can't deal any of our people and I don't know nobody else," he said.
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