Midnight Pass: A Lew Fonesca Novel (Lew Fonesca Novels) Read Free Page B

cup toward the white-plastic-lined metal mesh trash basket and sinking it for a solid two points. “First, what did Trasker mean by saying there was nothing ‘they’ could do to him now? Second, what do you need me for?”
    “Trasker wouldn’t say much,” said Wilkens, “but we were either talking past payoffs or things someone had on him for some of the less than legal deals he might have made for his contracting business. Since Trasker is up to his kneecaps in money, I’d say it was the contracting deals. We’ve got buildings in this town that crumble after a decade. Trasker’s company put up a lot of them, some of them public buildings. It doesn’t cost him anything to go out on the side of righteousness. Get him some good headlines and maybe a ticket to heaven, though I think the good Lord will look hard and long at the scales of this man’s life before making a decision to let him enter the gates.”
    “And me?”
    “I can’t comment on your chances of eternal peace,” he said with a smile. “I can tell you what I want from you. William Trasker is missing. I want you to find him, get him to that meeting on Friday so he can vote. If he doesn’t show up, we deadlock. If Trasker dies, we have an election fast, and I have no doubt given the constituency and the inclination of both parties, the new member will probably not vote with us. In addition, Parenelli stands a good chance of being defeated himself in the next open election.”
    “You don’t?”
    “I’m the token everything with Parenelli gone,” said the Reverend Wilkens. “The token black, the token liberal, the token clergyman. I am the exception that supposedly proves fairness. Every hypocrite in the business community will support me, even those who don’t live in District One, which I represent.”
    “How do you know Trasker is missing?”
    “I called his office,” said Wilkens. “He hasn’t come in since he came to see me. I called his home. His wife didn’t want to talk, but said Trasker was out of town on a family emergency and she had no idea when he would be coming back. I called the police and they asked me what the crime was?”
    “You think he’s in town?” I asked.
    “I pray he’s in town,” said Wilkens. “He led me to believe that he didn’t have very much time and that even coming to the meeting Friday would be against his doctor’s recommendation. I find it difficult to believe under the circumstances that he would go out of town for any reason. I want you to find him.”
    “I’m sorry,” I said. “But I can’t do it. I can recommend a good private investigator in Bradenton, Wayne Barcomb. He’s in the phone book. I’ve got to go now. I’m late for an appointment.”
    I started to rise. He put his hand gently on my arm.
    “The money we save can be put to good use to support improvements in the African-American community. My dream is a renovated Newtown with decent housing and safe streets. We’ve started but we’ve got a long way to go, and I don’t want limited resources going to projects that make the rich richer. I’m asking only that you do your best for a few days to find a sick man so he can do one final decent thing.”
    “I’ve got some papers to serve and something I’ve got to do that’ll take me out of town for a few days. Today’s Monday. If I go out of town tomorrow and Wednesday, that’ll give me what’s left of today, Thursday, and Friday till midnight. Not much time.”
    “But it can be done,” said Wilkens. “You can do it.”
    “I don’t know.”
    “How can I persuade you?”
    I thought about that for about five seconds.
    “Can you get someone’s driver’s license back for them?” I asked.
    “DUI?”
    “Yes, more than a couple, but she’s clean and sober now. Needs her van because she’s taking care of a baby.”
    “Her baby?”
    “Flo’s in her sixties,” I said. “The baby belongs to an unmarried student at Sarasota High. Girl’s mother was murdered by