them. The family split after Quincy’s conviction when the sisters assumed he was guilty, the jury said so, and they cut all ties. This upset Marvis, who has always believed his brother was framed and who felt strongly that he needed the family’s support more than ever.
After we choke down the food, we choose to sit and drink coffee rather than to reenter the stultifying dreariness of the visitors’ lounge. I explain my fears about Quincy’s safety. I offer my rather speculative theory that the attack was ordered by someone connected to his conviction, someone who’s afraid of our investigation. I offer a lame apology for what has happened, but he will have none of it. He is grateful for our efforts and says so repeatedly. He has always dreamed of his big brother walking victoriously out of prison, an innocent man. Marvis is a lot like Quincy, easygoing, likeable, believable, a decent man trying to survive a tough life. There are flashes of bitterness at a system that robbed his brother, but there is also a lot of hope that a grievous wrong will someday be made right.
Eventually we drag ourselves upstairs and I yield my sofa. I go to the motel, shower, and fall asleep.
* * *
—
MOSBY, MEET Frankie Tatum. The rendezvous takes place in a honky-tonk on the outskirts of Deltona, far away from Mosby’s world. He says he once frequented the place in his youth but is sure no one will recognize him now. As always, Frankie scopes it out before they meet. It’s almost midnight on a Thursday and the place is deserted and quiet. It takes a couple of beers for them to relax with each other.
Give Frankie two beers with a brother in friendly surroundings and he can be trusted.
“I need six thousand cash,” Mosby says. They’re at a table in the rear, near an empty pool table. The two guys at the bar cannot hear a word.
“We can do that,” Frankie says. “What do we get for the money?”
“I have a piece of paper with three names. The first two are convicted killers pulling hard time, parole is way down the road, if ever. They did the number on Quincy. The third name is the guard who was close by and didn’t see a thing. Probably the lookout. There’s no video. They picked a spot that is unmonitored. Don’t know why Quincy was in the vicinity because most inmates know better. A guy got raped there two months ago. Maybe Quincy figured he was too tough to mess with and just got careless. You’ll have to ask him if you get the chance.”
“How much do you know about the two thugs?”
“Both are white, tough dudes in a tough gang, the Aryan Deacons. The first name is a guy I used to see every day when I worked his unit. From Dade County, nothing but trouble. The second name is unknown to me. There are two thousand prisoners at Garvin and thankfully I don’t know them all.”
“Any chance it was a gang matter?”
“I doubt it. The gangs are always at war, but Quincy stayed away from them, from what I’m told.”
Frankie takes a sip from his bottle and pulls a white envelope from a coat pocket. He places it on the table and says, “Here’s five thousand.”
“I said six,” Mosby says without reaching for the money.
From another pocket, Frankie pulls out a roll of bills and keeps it below the table. He counts quickly and hands over ten $100 bills. “That’s six.”
Mosby gives him the scrap of paper with one hand while taking the cash and the envelope with the other. Frankie unfolds the paper and looks at the three names.
Mosby says, “There’s something else. Quincy didn’t go down easy. He landed some punches while he was able. The first name there survived with a crushed nose. He was treated at the infirmary this afternoon, said he got in a fight. Happens all the time and few questions are asked. His face will be messed up for a few days so I’d move fast. A little confirmation.”
“Thanks. Anything else?”
“Yeah, I won’t be going back to the hospital. They’re alternating guards now and we’re always shorthanded. Tell Mr. Post I appreciate the business.”
“Will do. And we appreciate it too.”
* * *
—
I GIVE MAZY the first name, Vicki the second, while I pursue all three. Fifteen minutes after Frankie said goodbye to Mosby, our three computers are raging through the Internet.