Ascension Day (28 page)

They were in the corridor just after a lesson, and as their voices raised, they’d started to get the attention of some of the other students filing out.

‘Come on, Danny. I’m real stuck here… can’t you at least…’

But Danny was already sidling away as Joshua reached one hand out imploringly, and then they were both distracted by one of the onlookers, Ellis Calpar, who’d stopped to pay more attention to their conversation.

‘That’s the problem wit’ those oreole’s,’ Ellis called out, moving a step closer. ‘When it comes t’ the crunch – the white, tight-assed, be ever-so-careful anal side always wins t’rough.’

Danny was mixed race, and as his friend headed away along the corridor, Joshua fired him a tight grimace that made it clear he wasn’t keen on the barb either. But then you expected no less from Ellis Calpar.

‘
Libreville
? That’s where your ol’ man is, isn’t it? Not much time lef’ now, from what I see on the news. So what’s the beef with you and Danny? I thought yo’ two were always like that.’ Ellis interlocked two fingers.

At first, Joshua wasn’t going to say anything. But Ellis’s tone was weighted with understanding more than teasing, and he recalled one time when one of Ellis’s crew had started to give him a tough time and Ellis had stepped in. ‘
Go easy on him, man. His ol’ man’s at
Libreville
. For murder
!’ The crew member had jolted back a pace as if hit with an electric shock. To Ellis and his buddies, having a father in prison for murder was a mark of respect rather than one of ridicule.  

As Joshua explained, Ellis’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. He put a welcoming arm over Joshua’s shoulder.

‘Look no further – you have just foun’ your
Libreville
e-mail sender. Not me personally – I don’t have a computer. But one o’ my crew, Friggy, does. That’s our main message centre.’

Joshua felt immediately uncomfortable. He’d never got involved with Ellis before, let alone with something as personal as this.

‘It’s okay, Ellis… you don’t have to trouble yourself none. I’m sure I can find another way round this.’

‘No sweat t’all, man… would be a real pleasure passin’ e-mails in and out of
Libreville
to your ol’ man.’ Ellis smiled slyly. ‘And the fact that your mom and new dad are against it and yo’ not meant t’do it, makes it all the mo’ fun.’ Ellis gave Joshua’s shoulder one last pat as he broke away and went ahead of him along the corridor. ‘I’ll talk to Friggy and let you know the timin’. Later, man.’

But as Joshua watched Ellis get swallowed up among the other students filling the corridor, he couldn’t resist a sense of foreboding. He might have solved his e-mail problem, but how was he going to explain away to his mom and Frank spending time after school with Ellis Calpar and his crew? For sure they’d fear he was getting primed for future auto-theft or crack dealing.

16

Before contacting Rodriguez, Jac wanted to check again with Alaysha that she was still okay with taking part in the Durrant e-mail ruse, in case it had just been the heat of the moment or the wine talking the night before. It wasn’t the sort of call he could make from the office – so he phoned just before he left for work.

She was still on for it – he’d never truly doubted – and for the first time he got some insight into her rationale. Though she brought a tingle to his cheek when she talked about the night before, and he could still feel a warm pang inside at the thought of her as he signed off and called Rodriguez.

‘We’re on for those e-mails,’ Jac said as Rodriguez came on the line.

‘The lap-dancer you mentioned the other day?’

‘The same.’

‘What did you have to do to her to get her to agree?’ Rodriguez jibed.

‘Well, you know – it’s a dirty job, but someone’s got to do it.’ A handful of conversations with Rodriguez, and already Jac was sounding like one of his cell-block buddies. 

Rodriguez chuckled, but it died quickly. He shook off a faint shiver as he thought about his close escape that morning. The shouting and alarm ringing had come as Tally was only a step away, already raising the razor. He’d have no doubt had time to slit his throat, but getting away cleanly was starting to look like a problem. Tally brandished the razor in warning – ‘Your guardian angel again, by the looks of it. But he ain’t gonna be around much longer’ – then quickly palmed the razor and slipped away as the guard approached. Rodriguez decided against saying anything to McElroy. There probably wasn’t much McElroy could do, and he had enough on his plate trying to save Larry without worrying about two of them.

‘The only thing is – I gotta get back on communication-room duty to receive it,’ Rodriguez said. ‘Also to send out those last few sample e-mails from JD. Haveling mighta half-believed our account, but most of our privileges are still cut.’ 

‘You didn’t mention this before.’

‘No need. Before it didn’t look likely we were gonna be able to get any e-mails to Larry, now it does.’

Jac sighed. ‘Okay. I’ll phone Haveling, see what I can do.’

‘Do you know someone who might be good for that?’

‘I do, as it happens. And just down the road from me right here in
Morgan City
.’ Bob Stratton scrolled down his Excel address list. ‘Yeah, here it is. Dan Souchelle.’

The thought had suddenly struck Jac while shifting some files from his desk first thing that morning, recalling that in one of them, a shoplifting case, the police had requested image enhancement on the key security camera pictures. Jac wrote down the number, thanked Stratton, and dialled it straight after he’d hung up.

Souchelle confirmed that he could do the job and promised a forty-eight hour turnaround.

‘Any chance of quicker?’

‘Sorry. We’re backed up like crazy right now, having trouble even keeping to that at times. But I’ll make sure this one doesn’t run over.’

Jac said he’d get the video tape over to him straightaway. Then seconds after he’d put the phone down from Fedex to arrange the messenger, it rang again; less than half an hour at his desk and already his fifth call: Lieutenant Pyrford.

Jac felt his pulse twitch in his jaw as Pyrford, in smug, sing-song tones, informed him that Morvaun Jaspar’s next police interview was later that morning.

‘Eleven-thirty. Be there or be square. Not that I care either way.’

‘I’ll be there.’ Jac slammed the phone down sharply enough to hopefully make Pyrford jump the other end.

Fourteen minutes later the Fedex messenger arrived, and, as he left with the tape, Jac eased out a tired breath, closing his eyes for a second. Two days. But at least there was a fresh glimmer of hope again with his anonymous e-mailer. A chance rather than no chance.

Pyrford’s call had unsettled him. Pyrford had no doubt made the appointment tight to give Jac little time to prepare himself, and it wasn’t the best time for it to be happening, right in the middle of organizing the e-mail to Larry Durrant. And there had been that nagging glitch in Morvaun’s demeanour that made Jac worry Morvaun was holding something back from him. Some big surprise that the police would suddenly spring. But it wasn’t just that, Jac realized; it was something else not so easily quantified.

Jac had immediately warmed to Morvaun Jaspar when they first met. Sixty-seven, sharp as a razor, the product of an African-American father and Irish/French/African-American mother, he had wavy, black hair and an easy, full smile showing one gold tooth five from the back on the top row. ‘All mine,’ he’d proudly proclaim to anyone, interested or not, ‘except this one.’ His dress was often wild and eccentric, somewhere between Mr Bo-Jangles and Vivienne Westwood.

Morvaun had been a serial forger for over twenty years. Before that he’d been a make-up man for a local theatre group, and when it disbanded the only work he could find was piece-meal with a brief flurry at Carnival time. Morvaun took a side-step into forging to supplement his income. Where before he was dealing with skin, hair and flesh tones, now he was dealing with paper, photos and document stamps. The core aim of both was the same: to create an illusion.

And sometimes there was crossover between the two, which had provided Jac with the vital key to getting Morvaun off the last charge.

Morvaun’s last lawyer had retired, and when he approached the firm, Beaton swiftly passed it down the rungs to Jac. Possibly because it was too lightweight, possibly because – like Durrant – he saw it as hopeless. But Jac quickly saw some hope in Morvaun Jaspar’s case, mainly because this time there’d been no forged documents involved.

Antonio Amador, a Mexican national, had used the documentation of his brother, Enrique, who’d gained American citizenship six years previous. All Morvaun had done was make Antonio look like Enrique.

One drawback to their scheme was that Antonio wouldn’t be able to use the documentation to work, otherwise it would look like Enrique had two jobs. But that hardly mattered since Antonio’s main aim was to move freely back and forth across the Mexican border running cocaine. Apprehended one day during a routine search, Antonio promptly gave Morvaun’s name in a plea bargain.

But Jac argued in court that no forging of documents had taken place, and since all Mr Jaspar had done was make Antonio look like his brother – unless he’d informed Mr Jaspar in advance that it was to perpetrate some criminal activity – Mr Jaspar himself had committed no crime. ‘Given the circumstances, it’s unlikely that Antonio Amador would have shared that information with Mr Jaspar.’

The judge agreed and directed the jury accordingly. It
was
unlikely, and on its own it was no crime to make one person look like another.
Hollywood
did it all the time.

Some chuckles from the courtroom floor, and a beaming hug of thanks for Jac from Morvaun when, forty minutes later, the jury acquitted him. But the police and the prosecuting attorney were far from pleased.

‘Good result, Jac. Good result,’ Langfranc congratulated him on his return. ‘But you want to watch out you’re not pushing your luck too far. The police might now target Jaspar, go all the harder on him.’

Pushing your luck
. As soon as Langfranc said it, Jac realized that the Morvaun Jaspar case, along with a few others, embodied how he saw himself as a lawyer. Beaton would hand him these hopeless cases that nobody else wanted, and because he was eager to prove them all wrong and not fail, he’d go that extra mile, or two.
Push his luck
.

Perhaps it went deeper than that. Trying desperately to prove that in no way was he continuing his father’s cycle, a scream back at the world and Aunt Camille: ‘
He was never a failure, and nor am I.
’

Jac realized that his main strength was also his Achilles Heel, and began to worry that one day Langfranc would be right, that he’d push his luck too far.

Jac busied himself with preparation for Morvaun’s police interview, but felt his chest tighten with anxiety as it approached eleven, his mouth suddenly dry. With still no answer back from Haveling, Jac wondered if finally his luck was about to run out.

‘
No, I told you, Jac. I’m happy to help out and send the e-mail.
’

‘
No morning-after second thoughts?
’

‘
None. But if you’re fishing for reasons why someone you just met would help out with something momentous like this. Well, you know, it’s not often we get a chance to change things in this life – I mean,
really
make a difference. And helping to save a man’s life must surely come close to the top of that poll. If this works, I can look at Durrant’s face in future newscasts and think smugly to myself: “Hey, I actually helped save that man’s life. I made a difference for once”.
’