“He got his stories screwed up and let slip that some of the visas were supposed to be used for getting stuff across the border. What he called Mejicano Rosen.”
Harry muses for a moment. “Did you consider the fact that this man deals in flesh? A labor contractor working the Mexican border. Maybe this Rosen is a person? Different kind of contraband,” says Harry. “Besides, what makes you think any of this is true? Dollars to doughnuts, he pulled the trigger on Nick.”
“No. That he didn’t do.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he wasn’t available for the shooting. He was in Mexico.”
Harry looks at me.
“Sarah goes to school with a boy whose father works one of the border checks at Immigration. We got to know each other during basketball last season. I called him late last week and told him I had a client, and I needed to know if the man was in the country or not during a period of time. He told me there was no way to check, that they don’t usually take down passport numbers. I told him that on this guy they might, to check anyway. He did. Espinoza used his passport, not a visa, to cross the border at Tijuana four days before Nick was killed. He didn’t return until five days later.”
“How would they know that?” says Harry.
“I figured if the information from your friend over cards was accurate, and the feds had Espinoza under surveillance, they’d have him on a ‘watch list’ at the border. They did.”
I had no intention of getting involved with Espinoza until I could verify that he had no hand in killing Nick. That would have been a little too messy. As it is, I am walking the edge.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“ I’m afraid I have good news and bad news.” Adam Tolt looks at Harry and me across the cavernous ravine formed by the top of his desk.
He called late yesterday afternoon and wanted to see me this morning. Said it was important but not something he could discuss over the phone.
Harry’s not letting me out of his sight if it has anything to do with Nick’s death or Dana. He is still invading my private space over my representation of Espinoza.
“Why don’t you give us the good news first,” says Harry.
“Our friends at Devon Insurance are getting ready to make an offer of settlement. According to the signal flares they’re sending up, it’s going to be quite generous.”
“How generous?” says Harry.
“Three point eight million.”
“That’s not four,” says Harry.
“You didn’t expect them to pay the full demand?” says Tolt. “Trust me, this offer was not recommended by their lawyers. Turn it down, and they will circle the wagons and defend the claim for double indemnity.”
“And who’s supposed to compromise?” says Harry. “We all know where Margaret’s coming from. You tell her to reduce her demand, you better get out of the way, because she’s gonna bounce off the walls like a rubber ball. The whole deal may go away.”
“I agree,” says Adam. “It looks like your client will have to back off. I did convince the company to forego confidentiality as to the terms of settlement.”
What Tolt means is that we would be free to publicize the deal.
“Why would they want to do that?”
“They didn’t, but I told them it might make their offer more palatable. Of course, you wouldn’t have to publicize it, but you’d be free to. A feather in your cap,” he says.
This is something most insurance carriers would never give up willingly, details as to the amount of settlement. It tends to make lawyers in other cases more aggressive, especially when the figures climb above six.
“You have to ask yourself if it is worth litigating for the next decade over such an amount,” says Adam. “Two hundred thousand dollars.”
“Maybe you should ask Margaret after she stops foaming at the mouth,” says Harry.
“You haven’t heard the bad news yet,” says Tolt.
He opens a manila folder on the desk in front of him, a few pieces of paper and a folded spreadsheet.
“There’s a problem. Not with the insurance settlement. Another matter. The firm’s been conducting an audit since Nick’s death. It’s routine whenever a partner leaves.” He makes it sound like Nick resigned.
“We review their cases to see what commitments the firm has, examine their client trust records. That sort of thing.”
Harry and I sit listening.
Adam covers his mouth with a fisted hand and clears his throat a little. “The problem is we’ve come up light on Nick’s accounting for the client trust fund.”
It’s the kind of news that tends to drain the blood from your head if you’re a lawyer.
“Are we talking a minor error in math?” I ask.
“I’m afraid not. It’s out of balance a little more than fifty-seven thousand dollars,” he says.
“You’re saying Nick invaded the client trust account?”
“Not exactly,” says Tolt. “All the checks were drawn over the last sixty days.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The checks were drawn after Nick died.” He says. “It appears that someone gained access to blank checks and signed Nick’s name to them. They were drawn to specific amounts in different names and deposited in several banks around town. We’ve checked those accounts. The funds were withdrawn, and the accounts closed all within a few days of the deposits. It appears that whoever did this gave some thought to how it should be done. We can’t get information as to social security numbers for the people receiving these funds because of banking privacy laws, though with a subpoena or a search warrant from the authorities this could be made available. I suspect that whoever did it may have used false employer I.D. numbers or bogus social security numbers, whatever. Of course I can’t be certain of that unless we inquire further. But we do have some of the canceled checks. None of them were endorsed since they were for deposit only, but the signature for the payor is not Nick’s. We do know that. We haven’t yet reported this to the police.”
“But you’re taking the time to tell us?” I say.
“Given the circumstances, I thought that it might be best.”
“Why is that?”
“The firm has no interest in stirring up a cloud of bad publicity unless it can’t be avoided. It seems your client removed a number of Nick’s personal effects from his office a little over a week after the shooting.”
“Dana?”
He nods. “According to one of our senior secretaries, the trust checks were in a drawer in Nick’s desk before Mrs. Rush visited. They were missing after she left.”
“This is a careful secretary,” says Harry. “How would she know?”
“Ordinarily she wouldn’t,” says Tolt, “but the police had just removed their yellow tape from Nick’s office door that morning. I’m just guessing, but I suspect that Mrs. Rush had called them to inquire as to when she would be able to collect her husband’s personal effects. The secretary in question, at the firm’s request, conducted an audit of everything in the office that morning, in preparation for boxing it up and reassigning client files.”
“I see.” Tolt has Dana painted into a corner.
“It’s an awkward situation,” he says. “Sooner or later, we’re going to have to report the discrepancy to the State Bar. It would be good if the money could be restored before that time.”
Harry and I look at each other, but neither of us says a word.
“The bar has no jurisdiction over lay persons, and the firm would have no reason to file a criminal complaint once the money is returned. We’d rather not get law enforcement involved unless it’s necessary. Please understand I don’t want to cause any more pain than is absolutely necessary.” The way he says this, the conviction in his voice
