Chapter Eighteen #2
“I understand.” Raquelle rested her arm on the counter. “You need to let Penelope know you’re all right— assuming she hasn’t already heard on the news. I wanted to tell her but thought it would be better coming from you directly.”
“I’ll go see her,” he promised.
“Okay.” She paused. “I think she still cares about you.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, if I’m reading her correctly. Maybe you two can also make it work the second time around.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Eddie put the beer bottle to his mouth, pondering.
Weighing on Raquelle’s mind was how such a rekindled romance might play out if he was put into WITSEC. Could keeping Eddie alive ruin any chance of him getting back together with Penelope?
* * *
ON SUNDAY AFTERNOON, Landon sat beside Katie in an interrogation room.
On the opposite side of the table sat Ivan Pimentel and his lawyer, Ashley Vasquez, of Sarchuk, Vasquez, and Norgaard LLC, a top law firm in Columbia.
In her early thirties, she was slender and attractive with sable hair in a stylish pixie cut with amber eyes behind heart-shaped glasses.
Wearing an orange jumpsuit, Pimentel had shown little interest in communicating with them without the presence of his attorney, as was his right.
But it also showed Landon that the conniving and vindictive art dealer knew that he was in big trouble and was hoping that he could somehow worm his way out of this hole of his own making.
Landon peered at the suspect and stated bluntly, “I’m not going to beat around the bush, Pimentel.
We’ve built a strong case against you for numerous federal offenses—including the buying, selling and trafficking of counterfeit and stolen Native American works of art, wire fraud, and money laundering.
As if that’s not enough—and it isn’t, trust me—there’s conspiracy to commit murder, attempted murder, two actual federal murder charges, and various offenses related to the use of an improvised explosive device by someone you hired.
In short, you’re looking at a very lengthy prison sentence… ”
Pimentel shot him a wicked glare before whispering into his attorney’s ear. Then he said coldly, “Your so-called strong case is built on a mountain of lies. I’m a successful art dealer who has done absolutely nothing wrong.”
Katie pitched in, saying derisively, “You can claim innocence till you’re blue in the face, Pimentel, but it won’t change the facts any. We’re not messing around here—even if you are.”
He scowled at her and was about to offer a retort, but Ashley Vasquez checked him and said with a sigh, “This is really getting us nowhere, Special Agents Kitagawa… Briscoe. My client and I maintain that this entire thing is a fishing expedition at best and a case chock full of unproven holes and innuendoes at worst.”
Landon eyed the attorney and Pimentel sharply and responded without humor, “Not much for fishing, I’m afraid.
But I can assure you that most of the holes in this case have been filled—by your client and his underlings.
That includes Yusef Abercrombie—who took a fatal bullet to the head for his boss, Pimentel.
But not before Abercrombie confessed to doing his dirty work in hiring Fred Davenport to plant a bomb on a boat belonging to art dealer, Eddie Jernigan—and then shooting Davenport to death for falling short in the attempt at murder—”
Ashley pursed her thin lips and locked eyes with Landon as she retorted, “With all due respect, Agent Briscoe, as both Mr. Abercrombie and Mr. Davenport are no longer here to defend themselves, your accusations can hardly go unchallenged—and we will challenge them, vigorously. What I can say is that anything Abercrombie did outside the law, he did on his own and it had nothing to do with my client or Abercrombie being on his payroll.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Katie voiced glibly. “Maybe even you will start to believe it.”
Pimentel’s brows knitted when he stated with an edge to his tone, “Regarding Eddie Jernigan, whatever he went through, he brought upon himself by being a snitch. Not very smart. Apart from that, anything Jernigan passed along to you was nothing more than misinformation—and even planted fake evidence—all so the FBI can try to make a case with no foundation whatsoever!”
Landon figured Pimentel was trying to push their buttons but was in fact sweating bullets inside as he had to know that this would not go his way at the end of the day.
That included Eddie’s testimony, intel, and evidence obtained—more than enough to seal the deal.
So long as he stayed alive and well till Pimentel’s trial.
“Looks like we’ve reached an impasse,” Landon told them. “More or less.”
“Appears that way.” Ashley grinned triumphantly. “As such, I think we’re through here, Special Agents. We’ll see you in court.”
Landon nodded. “That you will,” he promised.
“That’s assuming this entire load of garbage isn’t thrown out before then,” Pimentel uttered warningly. “Anything can happen…” he added, much to his attorney’s chagrin based on her facial expression.
To Landon, this was a clear threat that the crooked art dealer would do whatever was necessary to try and stack the deck in his favor—and stay out of prison. With Eddie still very much in Pimentel’s crosshairs.