Unlawfully Wed

"What the fuck was that about?" Alex exclaimed when he finally found John, sitting in the department break room with Ryker.

John jumped, his eyes going wide as he looked at Alex. He sat up straight and twiddled his fingers, glancing at Ryker before looking back at Alex. He coughed and swallowed hard before looking at Ryker again. "Rain check? I'll come down this weekend, maybe, and we can spend some time together?"

Ryker nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good." He smiled, his cheeks flushing a pale pink.

John's cheeks were pink, too. He lifted a hand and rubbed the back of his neck before hesitation, taking a step towards Ryker to kiss him hesitantly on the cheek before walking over to Alex. Alex narrowed his eyes at him and turned on his heel, walking down the hallway and out of the facility before John had a chance to get a word in edgewise.

Alex made it all the way to the car before he stopped, getting in an slamming the door. He put his hands over his stomach and glared through the windshield, gritting his teeth back and forth. John was slower getting to the car, but when he did, he got in and stared out the windshield, too.

For several minutes the men were silent, but eventually John said, "Look, I know what it looked like in there, but Alex, we have to go into this case open-minded. I know you don't want to believe George could do something like this, but that could be your feelings getting in the way--"

"Oh really?" Alex looked at John before looking away again. "If I remember correctly, you're the one who agreed to come out here with me. If you are already convinced that George really killed her, then why the fuck did you come along?"

"Alex, I don't think that he did it, but those questions I asked him? They are the same things Martha's family lawyer are going to ask him. It's not any different than any other case we have done."

"I understand that, but we aren't prepping him for trial, yet! We are still trying to figure out what we are going to to prove his innocence. We can't do that if we've made him too spooked to speak!" He blew out a breath and looked forward. "Maybe this was a mistake bringing you out here with me."

"Whatever, Alex." John started the car and shook his head, muttering something incomprehensible under his breath. He pulled of the parking spot and circled around to the main road. He pulled out his phone and typed something into his GPS app, coughing once as he adjusted his seat and attached his phone to the holder on his dashboard.

Alex wasn't completely sure where they were going, but he couldn't find it in himself to ask. He was still very annoyed with John, even though he knew he was right. Martha's family was incredibly wealthy, and they would hold no expense when it came to convincing their daughters supposed killer, which reminded Alex that he needed to figure out if his help was pro-Bono or if he was going to eventually charge George a fee.

Alex didn't normally charge his friends, but George was a special case.

Oh. So that's why George contacted them. With Martha gone, George didn't have any financial stability left. Sure, his fruit stand had been going decently (okay, maybe he had done more than just a little digging this past week), but now that he was in prison, Alex was sure that the money had run out. Of course he wasn't going to go with some other lawyer, the court would appointment someone who just saw him as another case. With everyone already against him, George was sure to get the short end of the stick.

Alex slouched down in his seat and pulled his feet up onto the seat. He stared out the window for a minute before noticing one of the signs that they passed. "Wait, where are we going?" he asked, glancing at John's GPS before looking at the street signs again.

"To find the cabby." His voice was still tight, but he didn't sound as agitated as he had when they had gotten into the car. His phone beeped as they made another turn.

"We passed the cab rental on our way to the prison. This isn't the right direction." He looked around, trying to see if anything looked even remotely familiar. Nothing did.

John shook his head. "Even a town this small has more than one taxi service, and apparently George liked to used the lesser-known company."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

A tense silence fell back over the duo, until they reached a parking lot on the edge of a small, decrepit building. The chipped red paint of the exterior walls were covered in ivy, and the bricks were beginning to crumble. The white lines dividing up spots between the cars were nothing more than dots of white, and there were more potholes than actual solid ground cluttering the lot.

The cabs, too, had clearly seen better days, the once-shiny silver fenders and bumpers were coated in rust. Several of the vehicles had deep dents and scratches running along both sides, and nearly half the license plates were missing numbers and letters, or missing entirely.

John pulled into a spot near the front of the building. He wrinkled his nose and twisted his mouth up at the corner. "I'd say this place doesn't quite meet their fire code."

"No, I'd daresay not." Alex unbuckled and put his Hand on the door handle. He pushed it open and put his right foot on the ground before asking, "And why do you think this is the right cabby shop again?"

"I asked Ryker about it. I guess he's friendly with some of the higher-ups, so he was able to dig up some of the notes that the detectives wrote when they were vetting George. This is the place they came up with."

"But I thought the file said that the couldn't find the cab driver from that night." Alex pulled his foot back into the car and shut the door, his brows furrowing and the corners of his mouth turning down as he looked at John.

John nodded. "Yeah, I thought so, too." He reached towards the back seats and grabbed his messenger bag. He wrapped the strap around his hand and lifted it up, pulling it onto his lap to pull out a folder. He tossed his bag back onto the seat and opened the folder, skimming over a document for a moment before holding it out to Alex. He pointed to a line on the third page. "There. It says that three people were working on the night George was last seen: Martin Grospill, Lenny Shepard, and Jayme Martinez." He tapped on the employee pictures as he spoke.

Alex looked over the images and nodded. He reached over and took the file from John's hands, looking it over himself and trying to memorize the features of the men he was looking for. "Do all three still work here?"

"I have no idea. Ryker couldn't tell me that much."

Alex nodded again and stared down at the pictures, hoping that something would stick out to him, but nothing did. He couldn't remember ever seeing any of these men's faces in the millions of mug shots he had looked at over the years, but he knew that that most definitely didn't mean that they weren't in the system, somehow.

The first file was that of Martin Grospill, a young man who barely looked as though he was out of his teens. He had curly chestnut hair and squinty hazel eyes, his lids puffy and dark. There was a scar across his right cheek bone, and the two-tones of his upper lip shows that he had, at some point, had surgery for a cleft palate. His file said that he had been working at the cab company for just two weeks before George had disappeared, but his current work status was unknown.

The next image, Lenny Shepard, showed a withering old African-American man, the soft folds of his skin hanging in globs off his bones. His lips were stuck in a permanent pout, his heavy cheeks framing the edges and showcasing the powerful contrast between his dark-chocolate skin and his purple-tinted lips. His hair still had some color to it, but white was streaked through the black. Just like Grospill, his status was unknown.

Alex scoffed. "What good are these files if none of them can tell us if these guys are still around or not?" He flipped through the pages of the report again before tossing it onto the top of the folder with a sound of disgust. He sunk down in his seat and closed his eyes, leaning his head against the headrest.

Alex kept his eyes shut as John picked up the file, but he could hear him rifling through pages. He was letting out small, agitated breaths as he read, as well as tapping his fingers on the center console.

After a few minutes, however, John seemed to find something as he muttered, "There we go!" before pushing at Alex's shoulder.

Alex cracked an eye open and looked over, his stomach clenching as though rocks were being dropped in his gut. "Find something?"

John picked up the last picture and held it towards the windshield before pointing directly behind it. "Anyone look familiar?"

Alex opened his other eye and sat up, following John's finger towards the building until he saw a group of men spilling out the front door wearing nothing but muscle shirts and jumpsuits, the arms tied around their waists in makeshift belts. Sure enough, when he looked back at the picture, one of the men near the front of the ground was a perfect match to the file.

Jayme Martinez was a young Latino with short, curly black hair and a deep mocha complexion. He had strong arms and an abdomen so toned that Alex could see the ripples of his muscle shirt with ease from across the parking lot.

"Is that our man?" he asked, shifting in his seat and straining his neck as he studied Jayme from afar.

John, too, stared at the man before responding. "We might as well talk to him. Even if he isn’t George’s driver, maybe he heard something that could help us make our case." He put the papers back in the folder before tossing it into the back seat with just enough finesse that the files did not spill out.

Alex shook his head as he opened the car door and stepped back out, this time getting all the way to his feet before having second thoughts. He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked onto the balls of his feet, all professional pretenses leaving him as John and he walked across the parking lot.

The men began to catcall and tease as Alex and John got closer, but they were easy enough to avoid, especially when Alex only had one thing on his mind: talk to Martinez.

Before Alex had a chance to latch on to the handsome man, however, John cleared his throat, waving at the group with a plastic smile on his face. "Hello, gentlemen. How are you all doing today?"

One of the men, a heavy set and balding clout, stepped forward with an eyebrow raised and his lip quirked up to bare his teeth. He crossed his arms over his stomach and stuck his belly out. “Something you need, boy?”

John, who was more than used to “intimidating” personnel, took the initiative to hold back Alex’s attack, stepping forward and grinned his most charming smile, hooking his thumbs into his belt loops and rocking forward. He ducked his chin and waved his hand, giving a mock bow. “Actually yes, there is. My name is John Laurens, and my associate, here, is Alexander Hamilton. We are the attorneys of George Washington, and we are here to figure out what exactly happened on the night that he went missing. We have learned that the last place he was seen was in one of your cabs. Do you have any information for me?”

The man moved his arms up from his belly to his chest and leaned to the side, letting out a slimy trail of spit into the dusty gravel parking lot before looking back up at John. “What are you going to give us if we have anything? Our words don’t come for cheap.”

“Oh? It wouldn’t warm your hearts to know that you could help an innocent man walk free again? Keep him out of prison for a crime that he didn’t commit?”

“It’s not my crime.”

“That might be true, but Alex and I are two of the best lawyers in the state. Who knows when you might need us on your side.” He winked, stepping forward again. Alex took a step too, although his was to the side as another one of the men spat on the ground.

The man chuckled before smirking and shaking his head. “No information here. Come on, boys, let’s get back inside and finish our poker game.” He turned on his heel and walked back inside, several of the men immediately tossing their cigarette butts onto the ground and following him without a moment’s hesitation. They kept their eyes averted and acted like John wasn’t’ there as he walked forward, as though he was going to follow the men inside.

Before he could make it all the way to the doorframe, however, two of the men, Martinez and another man with long to looked to be just as young, came back outside and held their hands up to block John’s entry. John raised an eyebrow at them. “You know, I could just get a warrant to come in and search the facilities. Even if I don’t find any information on that night, I’m sure I could find something that would make your dear boss there regret acting so indifferent towards us.”

The new man shook his head before gently pushing John off the stoop and back onto the gravel before stepping down next to him. “There’s no need to threaten our coworkers. Jayme and I will tell you everything we know, no questions asked. We both . . . knew George, and we don’t want to see him locked up for this when he couldn’t have done it.”

Alex and John looked at each other before nodding. Alex immediately started to move towards Martinez with the intent to grill him down to the very last word, but the new man moved quicker, taking his place at Alex’s side and getting close enough to his personal boundaries to let Alex know he meant business. Alex gave John a pleading look, but John simply shrugged, saying, “Divide and conquer, and we will talk about what we both learned back at the office,” before grabbing Martinez by the arm and dragging him off to the corner of the parking lot. The man began to walk away, too, so Alex squared his shoulders and followed him.

Once the new man stopped moving, Alex took a few seconds to properly look him over and see exactly who it was that he was dealing with. Like Martinez, this man was Latino, but he looked like he was in his late teens rather than his twenties. He had long, dark hair that was already sprinkled with strands of gray that went down to his mid-chest, the thick strands contained in a single plait that he had thrown over one shoulder. He had a thick goatee and dark eyes, as well as thick eyebrows that were so close together that they nearly met in the middle.

Shockingly, he was nearly identical to what Alex looked like when he was that age. For a moment, Alex wracked his mind to think if there was any possibility of him having any other children or siblings that he didn’t know about before realizing how absurd that thought was. Eliza was the only woman he had ever slept with, and his both of his parents had passed away without having any children after him.

Alex coughed, realizing that he had been silent for much too long. “So,” he began, shifting his weight back and forth between his feet, “I guess we should start by you telling me your name,” he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his travel notebook and a pencil, “and what exactly it is that you saw or heard on that last night before they found George.”

The man lifted his hand up to rub the back of his neck, his eyes shifting back and forth as he chewed on his lip nervously. “Uhm, my name is Michael Martinez. I’m Jayme’s younger brother,” he added when he saw Alex glance over at the other duo of men suspiciously. “And, uhm, I don’t know anything about that night, but . . . I know something about George in general.”

Alex nodded and scribbled that down on the notepad. It wasn’t exactly what he was looking for, but it would do. “Okay. Go ahead.”

“George and I, he, uh . . . ” Michael trailed off, scratching his neck again. His voice was quivering, and he kept looking around the parking lot like someone was after him. He bit his lip and coughed before speaking again, his eyes flickering to Alex. “Look, uh, before I tell you, I just gotta ask—are you the same Alexander Hamilton that George was so hung up on?”

Alex’s eyes widened, and he felt his throat grow tight as a wave of panic surged up. Did Michael know George so well that their relationship would come up, even when he wouldn’t reveal it to his family and closest friends? “I don’t know what you’re talking about. George and my relationship is strictly professional.” He tried to sound confident, but he knew that his voice was shaky and breathy, and he doubted that Michael believed him.

Sure enough, Michael let out a small laugh before shaking his head. “Yeah, he said that he broke your heart.” Unlike Alex’s, his voice was growing more steady as he became more sure of himself, rocking onto his toes and presenting himself in a more confident way. “Look, man, what I’m about to say might change the way you think about George, so I don’t want it to affect the way you represent him, but—George and I slept together, frequently.”

All the moisture was suddenly gone from Alex’s mouth. “Oh. And—and how did that begin?” He poised his pen above the paper.

Michael thought for a moment before answering. “It was three or four years ago, not too long after Martha and he moved here. We were friends, at first, but then things just evolved—he talked about you all the same. Accidently said your name in bed, once, and things just kind of escaladed from there—I guess I just look too much like you for the memories or feelings to really fade, you know?”

Alex did know. Jesus. Was this conversation really happening? “Did—did Martha have any idea what was going on? Was there anything about your relationship that would have caused her to commit suicide?”

Michael, who had started looking over at his brother and John again, snapped his eyes back quicker than an overstretched rubber band. “Alex—can I call you Alex?—Martha was the one that introduced us. Some date was coming up that I guess was important to you two, anniversary, break up day, I don’t know, but he was a wreck about it, and he went out and got stone-faced drunk. He ended up calling Martha from the bar and she called us to take her to them. She ended up in my cab, and before I knew it, she was bringing me into their home and suggesting to George that he release some of his tension with me.”

Alex’s eyes, somehow, got even wider as he wrote down this information. His heart was beginning to pound, and he felt completely at a loss. “Oh. And, uh, what caused this relationship to stop?”

Michael shrugged. averting his eyes again. “I got tired of being a fill in for something that he clearly wanted more than me. But, Alex—our time together is how I know that George could never do something like this, not to Martha. Their marriage might have been unconventional, but they really did love each other, even if it wasn’t romantically. I mean, they put on a great show for everyone else, but behind closed doors? What I saw, at least, wasn’t love—I don’t know what it was, but it wasn’t that. They respected each other, though, you get what I’m saying? They wouldn’t hurt each other like this.”

“Do you, uh, do you have proof about your guys’ relationship? You know, in case I, uh, need to bring it up in court.” He winched at the thought. “Like—pictures? Texts? Anything like that?”

Michael nodded. “Yeah, I have all our texts saved to my computer. I can email them to you later, if that helps.”

“Yes, please.”

Michael looked over at John and Jayme again. The men appeared to be done, so Michael gave Alex one last forced smile before starting to walk over to them.

Before Michael could get very far, however, Alex called out to him again. “That, uh, that date that Martha first introduced you—do you happen to remember when that was?”

Michael stopped and turned around. “Yeah, actually. March twenty-first. I don’t remember how long ago it was, but it was within the last few years, I think.” He gave Alex one final nod before turning completely on his heel and watched him walk away.

As Alex watched Michael leave, he was struck by only one thing: apparently, George was as haunted by the date of Alex’s failed proposal as Alex, himself, was.

What a fascinating idea.