and appears to be unwashed. “Interesting.”
“Were you close to Keith?”
A grunt in frustration and half a smile. “What do you want from me?”
“Just background. Did you watch the trial?”
“Naw. Wanted to, but they moved it next door to Butler County. I was in the senate back then and pretty busy. Had seven lawyers working around here, biggest firm in these parts, and I couldn’t exactly spend my time sitting in a courtroom watching other lawyers.”
“Keith was a relative, right?”
“Sort of. Quite distant. I knew his people down in Tampa. He pestered me for a job and I gave him one, but he never fit. He wanted me to hire his wife too, but I didn’t want to. He hung around here for a year or so, then struck out on his own. I didn’t like that. Italians place a premium on loyalty.”
“Was he a good lawyer?”
“Why is that important now?”
“Just curious. Quincy says that Keith did a terrible job handling his divorce, and the court file tends to support this. The prosecutor played up their conflict to prove motive, which is kind of a stretch. I mean, a client is so disgruntled he blows off his lawyer’s face?”
“Never happened to me,” he says and roars with laughter. I gamely laugh along. “But I’ve had my share of crazy clients. Had a guy show up one time with a gun, years ago. Pissed off over a divorce. At least he said he had a gun. Every lawyer in the building had a weapon and it could’ve been ugly, but a cute little secretary calmed him down. I’ve always believed in cute secretaries.”
Old lawyers would rather tell war stories than eat lunch, and I would like nothing better than to get him cranked up. I say, “You had a big firm back then.”
“Big for this part of the state. Seven, eight, sometimes ten lawyers, a dozen secretaries, offices upstairs, clients lined up out the front door. It was pretty crazy back in those days, but I got tired of all the drama. I spent half my time refereeing my employees. You ever practiced?”
“I’m practicing now, just a different specialty. Years ago I worked as a public defender but burned out. I found God and he led me to the seminary. I became a minister and through an outreach program met an innocent man in prison. That changed my life.”
“You get him out?”
“I did. Then seven more. I’m working on six cases now, including Quincy’s.”
“I read somewhere that maybe ten percent of all people locked up are innocent. You believe that?”
“Ten percent might be on the high side, but there are thousands of innocent people in prison.”
“I’m not sure I believe that.”
“Most white folks don’t, but go to the black community and you’ll find plenty of believers.”
In his eighteen years in the state senate, Colacurci voted consistently on the side of law and order. Pro death penalty, pro gun rights, a real drug warrior and big spender for whatever the state police and prosecutors wanted.
He says, “I never had the stomach for criminal law. Can’t make any money there.”
“But Keith made money on the criminal side, didn’t he?”
He glares at me with a frown, as if I’ve stepped out of bounds. Eventually he says, “Keith’s been dead for over twenty years. Why are you so interested in his law practice?”
“Because my client didn’t kill him. Someone else did, someone with a different motive. We know Keith and Diana were representing drug dealers in the late eighties, had some clients in the Tampa area. Those guys make good suspects.”
“Maybe, but I doubt if they’ll do much talking after all these years.”
“Were you close to Sheriff Pfitzner?”
He glares at me again. In a not so subtle way, I’ve just linked Pfitzner to the drug dealers, and Colacurci knows where I’m fishing. He takes a deep breath, exhales loudly, says, “Bradley and I were never close. He ran his show, I ran mine. We were both after the same votes but we dodged each other. I didn’t mess with the criminal side so our paths seldom crossed.”
“Where is he now?” I ask.
“Dead, I presume. He left here years back.”
He’s not dead but living a good life in the Florida Keys. He retired after thirty-two years as sheriff and moved away. His three-bedroom condo in Marathon is assessed at $1.6 million. Not a bad retirement for a public servant who never earned more than $60,000 a year.
“You’re thinking Pfitzner was somehow involved with Keith?” he