As Kolarich took his seat, he pulled an envelope out of his coat pocket. “This is a subpoena for you to testify in court,” he said. “I haven’t decided if I’m going to serve it yet.”
Manning didn’t respond. But it was a nice opening move by Kolarich. Reminding everyone of his leverage. Play nice, or I haul you into court. This Kolarich could be a problem.
“It’s your dime,” said Manning. He looked over at Bruce McCabe, who had a pen poised over a lined yellow notepad.
“You married, Mr. Manning?”
“I’m a widower, Mr. Kolarich. As are you.”
In his peripheral vision, Manning detected a frown from Bruce McCabe. Manning knew better. It was pure ego, a power game, letting Kolarich know that they were looking at him, just as he was at them. Manning knew better. But he couldn’t help himself.
Kolarich, however, revealed nothing. “Glo-Max fertilizer,” he said. “Did Global Harvest sell Glo-Max 2. 0 fertilizer to a company called Summerset Farms?”
“We did, I believe.”
“Summerset Farms is wholly owned by Global Harvest, isn’t that true?”
“Yes, we purchased the controlling stock.”
“You purchased all the stock,” said Kolarich.
Manning paused for a moment, as if in thought. “That could be true.”
Kolarich didn’t quibble with the equivocation. Probably because he already knew the answer. And they weren’t in court. Not yet.
“You recall being sued by a company called LabelTek Industries?”
“Yes, I do,” said Manning.
“Do you recall that you were served with written interrogatories by LabelTek’s lawyers?”
Manning opened a hand.
“Written questions,” said Kolarich. “You signed the affidavit answering them.”
“If you say so.”
“One of the questions LabelTek asked was who bought Glo-Max 2. 0 from you. And your answer didn’t include Summerset Farms. I’m wondering why.”
“That’s ridiculous,” said Bruce McCabe. “You can’t expect Mr. Manning to remember that kind of detail.”
A brief smile came to Manning. “I don’t remember that.”
“Well coached,” said Kolarich to McCabe. Then, to Manning, he said, “Did you know that Mr. McCabe here is outside counsel to Summerset Farms?”
Manning looked at McCabe. “I may have known that.”
Kolarich sat back in his chair. “Your company owns over twenty-five companies in this state and around the country. Do I have that about right?”
“You do.”
“And of all those companies, Bruce McCabe has been outside counsel only to Global Harvest and Summerset Farms. Is that your understanding?”
So Kolarich had been doing his homework on GHI and its subsidiaries. “Yes,” he said.
“No,” said Kolarich. “There’s one other company. SK Tool and Supply.”
“My client is not required to be an expert on the companies I represent,” McCabe objected.
Kolarich never took his eyes off Manning. He had an imposing stare. He probably got a lot of people to talk just by glaring at them.
“Global Harvest purchased the stock of Summerset Farms in June 2009,” said Kolarich.
Manning nodded. “That sounds about right.”
“And it purchased SK Tool and Supply that very same month. Does that sound about right?”
Manning glanced over at McCabe. “Something like that, yes.”
“Two companies within a month.”
“Yes, Mr. Kolarich.”
“No other companies within eighteen months on either side.”
“Is there a point here, Counsel?” asked McCabe.
“You settled the LabelTek litigation for four million dollars plus attorneys’ fees,” said Kolarich. “You gave them more than they wanted. And you did it only days after LabelTek sent subpoenas to Summerset Farms about its contracts with Global Harvest.”
Manning looked at his lawyer. “Did I even know this?” he asked. Of course he did, but now was the time to play the corporate CEO who doesn’t bother with the details.
“No, you didn’t,” said McCabe. “I’m not sure I even knew it.”
McCabe, of course, knew it as well. Manning could still recall McCabe’s breathless phone call when he got wind of the Summerset Farms subpoenas.
“Then why’d you lay down in the lawsuit? The case was in its infancy, and you gave them everything they wanted and more. You’ve done very well in life, Mr. Manning, and I assume you’ve become quite a skilled negotiator. What kind of negotiation ends up with you giving your opponent in litigation one hundred percent of what they wanted plus more?” Kolarich shook his head. “Something was troubling you. Was it the subpoena that LabelTek issued to the state Department of Agriculture? Was that it?”
“That’s ridiculous. This is ridiculous.”
“Why didn’t you want anyone looking at your sales records with Summerset Farms?”
“That’s simply not the case,” said Manning.
Kolarich sighed. “Then I suppose you won’t mind turning them over to me.”
Kolarich slid the envelope across the table to Manning.
“The subpoena includes records. Prove it to me, Mr. Manning. Right now. And I’ll go away.”
Manning stared at the envelope. Kolarich was bluffing, he thought. But it was a pretty damn good bluff. “If it’s really so important to you, Mr. Kolarich, I suppose I could arrange-”
“No,” said Kolarich. “Do it right now. Pick up the phone and make the call. Have them faxed here. I’ll wait.”
“This is completely ridiculous. This courtesy we’ve extended you is over.” Bruce McCabe stood up. “This is a ridiculous wild-goose chase. Mr. Manning has been more than generous with his time.”
“He has. He has.” Kolarich nodded to Manning. “Just make the call, Mr. Manning.”
“It’s time for you to leave,” said McCabe.
Kolarich kept his eyes on Manning but waved at McCabe. “Sit down, Bruce. Don’t get your shorts in a knot. I’m almost done.”
McCabe looked at his client. Manning nodded at him. McCabe took his seat, emasculated.
“You know someone named Lorenzo Fowler?” Kolarich asked.
Manning didn’t. “No, sir.”
“What about someone who goes by Gin Rummy?”
Manning chuckled. “Can’t say I do.”
“Paul Capparelli?”
Manning went cold. “Paul… Cap-the mobster?”
“The very one. You know him, Mr. Manning?”
“Of course not.” Manning shuffled in his chair, uncrossing one leg and crossing the other. It was a nonverbal tell, he realized, that he was becoming anxious. A mistake on his part.
It wasn’t hard to see where this was headed. Kolarich seemed to know that there was more to the murder of that paralegal, Kathy whatever, than met the eye. Somehow-God knows how-he’d found out about the LabelTek lawsuit, and the subpoenas would have been public records in the court file. Now Kolarich was looking squarely at Manning, wondering whether he’d hired someone to silence that paralegal. And he even knew about Paul Capparelli?
He was much farther along in the information he’d gathered than Manning could have possibly imagined.
“Pick up the phone and have those sales records faxed here,” said Kolarich. “Sales of Glo-Max 2. 0 fertilizer to Summerset Farms. Do it, and I go away.”
Kolarich was smart. He was boxing Manning in. Manning considered doing it. There wasn’t much to hide on
