By Silent Majority Page 8

  Goldstein dressed in dark-colored business attire every day. This was part of the no-nonsense business-first image she liked to portray. She fostered that image because she was one of the only woman in the prosecutor’s office outside of her boss. She virtually had one chance of moving up, because she was a woman, even though the State Attorney was the first woman in that position. She needed a big case. Elana Goldstein still demanded respect from the people she worked with. Daniel gave her that respect without her having to fight for it. He got teased about it by others, but Elana adored him for it.

  “That girl wants you, Daniel,” Peter said.

  “Give me a break, Peter. Don’t you have something better to do on a Friday?”

  “That girl wants a piece of the next Senator from Florida.”

  “All right, maybe she kind of likes me but not because of that. I’m nice to her. I listen to her talk about her aspirations.”

  “Right. She’s not power hungry,” Peter said sarcastically. “She likes you for your good looks. You’re telling me some overachieving little Jewess isn’t dying for a powerful political man to give her a leg up? And maybe more than just a leg. Hey, maybe she thinks she can be the second woman State Attorney.”

  “She says she likes me because I laugh at her jokes.”

  “And—” Peter said to probe for the real reason.

  “She says I’ve got this soft quality that most men are afraid to show.”

  Peter laughed. “What a fucking wimp. You’d roll over for that girl.”

  “That’s not true. In fact, Lana was a real pain in the ass when it came to getting deals on the La Cosa Nostra trials.”

  “Ooh, you’ve got a pet nickname for her. Does she call you, Danny?” Daniel nodded his head with disgust.

  “Shut up. All right, so we’re discussing wiretaps used and all that other legal admissibility stuff. So she says that the public telephone taps done by a couple of Miami cops prove that Dante Marcoigne was running numbers games across state lines, as well as commercial prostitution operations. So she’s going on and on about these taps and what they have on tape and blah, blah, blah, and then I said, ‘What about Katz?’ So she says, ‘who’s Katz?’ Like he’s an attorney.” Peter dragged on his cigarette and smiled.

  “Now, I wasn’t trying to make her feel stupid, but I guess word didn’t get down to the prosecutor’s office about Katz, even though the case is about twelve years old. So she was going on and on about these taps. I mean these two detectives who have this thing for Elana work overtime monitoring these taps.” Now, Peter started to laugh. “So a couple of the other lawyers start to laugh. She’s getting mad. I can see it in her face. She finally says, ‘Who the hell is Katz?’

  “I said, Katz v. United States. It’s a Supreme Court decision. It says, ‘Use of electronic surveillance without prior authorization cannot be justified on grounds of hot pursuit.’ Since the detectives didn’t get a warrant for the public telephone, we couldn’t use it.” Peter nodded and ashed his cigarette. “So she says, ‘What about Lewis?’ Everybody’s laughing now. She’s so red; I think she’s going to burst into flames. Then I said, ‘We’re not laughing at you, we’re laughing with you— if only you were laughing.’ Well that did it. Everyone was hysterical at that point. Man, she didn’t talk to me for days after that.”

  “So, what does she want from you now?” Peter asked.

  “She’s babbling about some trend she sees in these murders of eight young men in the last three years. I don’t get it? I don’t think she gets it?”

  “See, she wants to drag you into some local affair so she can be with you. I can’t believe you don’t see it.”

  “What do you suggest I do about it?”

  “Bang the crap out of her, Daniel.” That’s something Scott Witherspoon would’ve said in Jamaica, Daniel thought.

  “What about June?”

  “Don’t tell her. Besides, you can use her to get you votes. She’ll work for you because you’re fucking her and she’ll get you all your Jewish votes in Miami Beach. Your dick can single handedly get you more votes than any other part of your anatomy.”

  “Look where that got our mentor,” Daniel retorted. Peter immediately sobered up and became angry on the inside.

  “I’m only playing with you, Daniel. Don’t count Goldstein out. She might just come up with that winner we’ve been looking for. You’ll have the Margoines and whatever. Oh, and I told Melissa that we would go see a movie tonight after the Party meeting.”

  “Yeah, that’ll be fine. We wanted to see that new one that came out, Once Upon a Time in America. Law. Crying. Fun for the whole family.”

  Peter enjoyed some of the people at the meeting, but Daniel was a natural at working these people. He was good for a joke or a favor. He would know some of them were phony but he did his job with a certain flair. It was still strange to Daniel that Peter wasn’t the candidate—all in the wave of a hand over a two-martini lunch, with a bunch of big wig party members and it’s done. “No, no, Peter wouldn’t be right,” Daniel envisioned the meeting with Bratton and the party leaders went. So much for having a people’s candidate.

  Daniel was getting better at Peter’s instructions. “Hi! Hi!” Daniel would say brightly to everyone. He had almost a photographic memory when it came to people’s names, which was a huge plus. Nothing looked worse than when a friend has to whisper the name of the person standing in front of you. Everyone knows what’s going on. Nothing shatters the bond that the voter has with a candidate than the knowledge that the candidate doesn’t know who the person is.

  These parties got boring at times, but every now and then a purse would walk up to Daniel and pat his inside pocket and say, “I’ve got a blank check with your name on it when you start the campaign.” Who knew who could or would deliver? Daniel just had to be nice to everyone until the truth was revealed. Everyone has to toot their own horn. Some were serious. Some were full of shit.

  It was 12:15 on Monday afternoon and Daniel met Elana Goldstein in the coffee shop of the federal courthouse.

  “So, Elana, what’s on your mind?”

  “Will you take a look at these cases?” She handed him a large stack of case folders dated from the present to the past seven years. Daniel smiled sweetly but turned his head as he shut his eyes.

  “Elana, what am I going to do with you? Murder’s a state crime. I don’t have time to help you on these things as much as I’d like to.”

  “Listen, I know that you’re busy. I don’t give away my tough cases. I want you to look at these and tell me what you think. I think there’s room for something federal. I need resources and man power that the State Attorney’s office doesn’t have.”

  “Elana, we worked well on the Marcoignes case—”

  “Don’t give me the tap dance Daniel. I hear that crap all day long. I’m going to you because you’re the only one who would give me the help I need. Since you have such insight. You’ll get the benefits of my labor. Right? Right.” Daniel shook his head in disbelief.

  “I know your agenda, Senator. Trust me. Just do your job and help me with this as a favor. You’ll see that doing your job as an end instead of a means to the Capitol you’ll get there a lot faster. I’ll back you up and you know I’m not lying. This town is Jew heaven. You think they want some shaygets representing them. They’ll vote for some do-nothing Berkowitz if you don’t have a Jew in your corner.” She grabbed his face with her hand and squeezed his cheeks. “I can mobilize the condo-commandos you schnook.” She said schnook with such a distinct Brooklyn accent. It was quite enticing to Daniel. She was asking for his help, but in his heart Daniel knew he was really manipulating her. How could he say no? Even though there has never been a Jewish Senator in the State’s history, she made her pitch so well.

  “What a golden nugget. Copy that and sign it for me, I’ll put it on my wall.”

 
Daniel resumed, “I’ll look at it sometime this week. But no promises. I mean I’ve got bosses too. I can’t just dish out federal manpower if there’s nothing in it for us. Marcoigne was a good example of what’s okay.”

  “If this is like Marcoigne, then I can get your help?” She asked. Daniel answered, yes.

  At the end of a long Friday, Elana Goldstein wandered into Daniel’s office on the Third Floor of the Federal Building. With her hand on her hip, she smiled in anticipation.

  “You know what links these eight cases together? Acid.” Elana said.

  “It’s late Elana, I have to go to a Rotary Club Executive meeting,” Daniel replied.

  “Save your bullshit meeting. This is about justice.”

  “Then save your riddles. I can’t think right now, it’s been a long day. What’s acid?”

  Elana answered straightforward, “Muriadic acid, like the stuff you use in your pool or to clean tile with. There were traces on all of these victims.” She strategically scattered the pictures on Daniel’s desk to show the gruesome remnants of departed lives. Eight black males, twenty to twenty-five years of age, and that’s where the similarities ended. “All were intelligent.”

  “So. Does that amaze you?”

  “Just something that makes me wonder. Yet, with the acid on their bodies.”

  “There’s no time frame these murders were committed. Even if they were murders. Look here this guy, it could’ve been suicide. And there are a thousand pools in your neighborhood alone.— I’ve really got to go.”

  “One agent. Please, someone,” Elana pleaded.

  “Begging is not like you.” He put on his jacket and started to turn out the lights in his office.

  “You’re the only man I couldn’t stand to put his balls in a vice. But I will if I have to. One investigator. I need access to FBI resources. . . .What kind of a club meets on a Friday night?”

  “It’s a social occasion. . . . I’ll give you one agent. And only for a week, max.”

  Elana Goldstein sat at Daniel’s desk and they ate Chinese food out of the box while they discussed her case. Between bites she spoke:

  “I was right. You’re going to be so happy you signed on this case with me.”

  “I haven’t really signed on,” Daniel said with a smile.

  “You’ll see. This FBI agent you gave me said there was a link. He’s coming any minute and he’ll surprise us both.”

  Suddenly a young man, age twenty-five, entered Daniel’s office.

  “Can I help you,” Daniel asked.

  “How ya doing, Brad Lefkel, FBI.” The young agent waved a bound report that was in his hand.

  “How’s it going? I don’t think we ever met. I’m Daniel Carlson, Assistant DOJ Attorney.”

  “Hi, I’m Elana Goldstein, Dade State Attorney’s Office.”

  “Yeah, you’re the one I spoke to on the phone,” Lefkel replied.

  “I didn’t realize you were so young,” Elana said.

  “Yeah, I hear that all the time,” he replied with cockiness to his tone. “As the young guy I get the shit assignments.” Elana lost her smile. Daniel smiled. “I try and turn them into something we can prosecute.”

  “What do you think on this one?” Daniel said.

  “I think you have some coincidences worth looking into.” Elana regained her smile.

  “Sit down. You want something to eat?” Daniel asked.

  “No, just ate. The acid on the bodies of the victims seem to draw them all together. It’s an anomaly that almost suggests that the culprits wanted to be discovered, but never were. Here are the results of our computer analysis of the acid burns. The bodies themselves would’ve been better, but they’re long gone by now. Rotted. You get the idea. It appears that when the bodies were found the acid dripped. The computer analyzed the pictures and removed what it thought were drippings. I thought it would be a neat thing to program. Well, with my keen intuition, and expertise in crime scene investigation, this is what it spelled out.”

  Brad Lefkel pulled out the pictures of the eight murder victims that were found in rural areas off the long stretch of road called Tamiami Trail. Outlined in red were the letters AKIA, on some, and KIGY, on the others.

  “Great. What does it mean?”

  “Well, Mr. DOJ Attorney, it means AKIA, A Klansman I am. And KIGY, Klansman I greet you. Reads like an initiation into the club.”

  “Incredible,” Elana said. Her excitement was building.

  “Klan, in Miami? Aren’t we a little south of the South?”

  “Expanding markets,” the young agent replied. “You’re not from Florida, are you? Anyway, there are parts of west Miami that cock fights and cow tipping are the highlight of a Friday night.”

  “What’s the motive for choosing these victims?” Daniel’s interest was piqued.

  “Don’t know. None were in any radical black organizations, like the Panthers.”

  “You see, the victims being black wouldn’t be much of a motive in court. How could we continue an investigation into the perpetrators?” Daniel asked. Elana was beaming with excitement. She enjoyed being right and the opportunity to work with Daniel.

  “The Klan is pretty unified down here because they’re looking to expand into new territories as a reaction to Johnson’s and Martin Luther King Civil Rights laws. The major group is known as The Power. A man by the name of Forest Bedford is known to be the head of the group.”

  “Didn’t you have something to do with those civil rights laws, Daniel? You should be taking this stuff personally. What does he do for a living?” Elana asked to facilitate the investigative process in the hopes of getting Daniel more interested.

  “He’s a real-estate developer.”

  “Continue to investigate. Let’s bring some of these Power guys in for questioning, if we can. Let’s try and dig up a motive. And good work, Lefkel.”

  “Now, I like this guy.” Elana Goldstein said.

  Agent Lefkel accepted the manufactured praise and said, “I’ll keep in touch.”

  At that moment Elana turned and said, “This is murder, Daniel. And we’re getting involved.

  On any other day Daniel wouldn’t have been convinced to go with Elana Goldstein anywhere, let alone some place off the beaten path to get a glimpse at what the Klan was all about. But she got him all psyched up. It was a Wednesday night and business was slow at the office. Peter saw the political possibilities and also told Daniel to pursue this Klan thing. Peter had a growing confidence in Elana as the ticket to the Senate. His money was on her to find the case he could exploit for Daniel’s benefit, so he could secure the party’s nomination. Daniel got in Elana Goldstein’s car and was following her lead. Where, he wasn’t exactly sure.

  “I don’t want to sound like a wimp, but what do you plan to do when we find these Klan guys lighting a bonfire in the Everglades?” Daniel asked.

  “We’ll take some pictures,” Elana said holding up her 35 millimeter.

  “What’s in the basket?”

  “Some sandwiches and a couple of sodas.”

  “What is this a Klan picnic?”

  “Hey, I’m not into long boring stakeouts. I’m a prosecutor. And I didn’t eat lunch.”

  “Where’s Lefkel?”

  “He’s got paperwork to fill out or something. Let’s go. He told me about it. What’s the worst thing that can happen? You’re the Arian. It’s me they want,” Elana said flippantly.

  “They’ll probably make me sign up.”

  “I think white’s your color. So what? I’m driving. We’re going for a ride.”

  Elana and Daniel arrived at a very rural setting dressed in casual clothing. She parked her car off the road. They were twenty miles outside of downtown Miami. The sky was clear. The sun was setting and it would soon get dark.

  Daniel was gett
ing nervous. He could feel his palms sweat and his pulse rise. Very often, Elana denied the fear she felt. She was a feel-the-fear kind of woman, and did it anyway. The unconscious barriers that were in ambitious women were worn away with years of practice.

  She brought along the camera and the picnic basket. Daniel thought it was Elana’s way of being sneaky. To lure Daniel on a date. A part of him was feeling that there wasn’t going to be any Klan meeting at all. Elana was getting Daniel nervous as part of some elaborate seduction thing. First, make him nervous. Then with some wine and food, some stars and fresh air, he’d relax. Then he’d be vulnerable. Elana thought to bring a picnic basket along in case they really did get caught by some roving lookouts. They could have a legitimate reason for being where they were and the camera’s purpose was to photograph their romantic evening.

  Elana and Daniel walked for about a mile into the woods. The massive amount of tall, thick forestry was awesome. Most big cities didn’t have one tree very close by. As they walked they could see where the trees ended. It was a sudden stop. Then there were grassy flat lands.

  Daniel stopped three hundred yards from the end of the row of trees. Elana took Daniel’s lead. She too could feel the urge to stop. She told Daniel to squat down. She produced a camera, which had a telephoto lens.

  “This camera is great. I can bring in the picture as if it were right in front of my face. Look, go in the basket. They’re binoculars.”

  “Hey, what’s with the champagne?”

  “It’s for effect. If we get caught, we want to be believed. What romantic couple would have a picnic without wine?”

  Daniel looked through the binoculars. All he could see was one R.V. in the distance, and a truck with a trailer.

  “What do you see?” Daniel said.

  “The same thing you see.”