chair and sit.
“It must be casual Wednesday,” I tell him. Tolt is sans the suit and tie today, wearing slacks and a polo shirt.
“A few times a year I swing through the other offices unannounced. Just drop in, little inspection, see how things are going, talk to the partners, that sort of thing. I take the Gulfstream since it gets me there quickly, and I may as well be comfortable,” he says.
“Must be nice.”
“Leaving tonight. It’s why I wanted to talk to you.”
There is a pause. “I read about what happened in the papers,” he says. “This fellow Espinoza.” He takes a sip from his tumbler, scotch on the rocks. Adam wants to know what’s going on. Why I didn’t tell him about Espinoza before this.
“You have a more exciting practice than most of us,” he says.
“What? Does this mean the firm is no longer interested?”
“Did I say that? I didn’t say that. Why? Have you made a decision?”
“I haven’t talked to Harry, but I don’t think it’s gonna work.”
“Then you haven’t thought long enough. Take some more time. We can take Harry for a ride in the Gulfstream. Let him play with some of the corporate toys.”
This could be dangerous. Harry has a fascination with the high life and would happily take the jet for a test run to Monaco. I decide to keep silent about my partner’s weak spot.
“No need to decide now. Pick your moment.”
Adam doesn’t want to take no for an answer.
“The arm?” He motions to the bulge under my right shirtsleeve, puffed out by the bandage. “I assume that’s where he got you, the other guy. What was his name?”
“Saldado.”
“You could have told me about Espinoza.” Adam looks hurt.
“At the time I couldn’t.”
“Lawyer-client?”
I nod.
“The papers are saying he was connected with Nick’s shooting.”
“There’s a lot of speculation,” I tell him. “Actually, Espinoza was out of the country at the time.”
“I assume you’re trying to get answers?”
“I admit it wasn’t a good way to go about it. Harry warned me.”
“Harry must be the better half of the partnership. The part with judgment,” he says. “Did you learn anything?”
“Espinoza was killed before I could.”
“You weren’t troubled by the possibility of a conflict? Representing him?”
“You sound like my partner.”
“He has a point.”
“Why are you so interested in this?” I ask him.
“I have an interest in protecting the firm,” he says. “Yours, I assume, is driven by some perceived obligation you feel toward Nick?”
I look at him, but I don’t answer.
“You don’t have to explain. I understand. It’s why I called. I assume you’re up a dead end.”
“Looks like it.”
“What do you know about this other man, the one who attacked you?”
“Not much. I got a good look at him.”
“Did Metz ever mention him?”
“No.”
Adam sits back in the chair, looking at me, wondering, I suspect, if I’ve told him everything. “There is something else,” he says. “But before I tell you, I have to know. Is there anything else, anything you haven’t told me?”
“About?”
“Nick’s death.”
“No. I don’t think so.”
Adam looks at me from behind the dark glasses, a pair of expensive aviation shades with gold rims, trying to mind meld with me. Lawyers know there is always a little something every other lawyer holds back, if for no other reason than to corner the market on secrets.
“So what is this revelation?” I ask.
“I shouldn’t tell,” he says.
“You came all the way over here for you not to tell me?”
“All right. Fine. I’ll tell you, but I want your word it doesn’t go beyond this table.”
“You got it.”
“It’s a letter. It was mailed to Nick at the office. It arrived two days after he was killed.”
He lifts the large linen napkin that has lain folded neatly in two even halves on the table in front of him since my arrival. Underneath it is an envelope. He hands this to me.
There is a mailroom stamp from the firm on the envelope, showing the date of receipt on the outside.
“One of the secretaries found it. Somehow it got sorted off into a box downstairs. Never made it to Nick’s office from the mail room. Everything being in chaos after he got shot. The police got some of the stuff from his office, but it seems they never checked the mail room.”
“When did you get it?”
“This morning,” he says. “One of the secretaries going through the box found it. As soon as she saw Nick’s name and the cancellation date on the stamp, she brought it to me. So naturally I opened it.”
“Naturally.”
“It was sent to the firm.” Adam is a little defensive on this point.
There’s a foreign stamp up in the corner, something in Spanish. Adam is up-front about the date.
“I’ve checked it. The man is real. Quite prominent. According to my information, he owns a chain of banks and resort hotels in Mexico.”
I open the envelope, remove the letter, and unfold it, heavy parchment. It is typed, written in English, and dated four days before Nick was killed. The letterhead is embossed, a seal, what looks like an ancient warlord’s helmet and under it a phone number, a single digit area code (9) followed by three numbers and a dash, two more numbers, another dash and two numbers. I have seen this particular sequencing of phone numbers before. They were on the cellular telephone statement of the man Saldado, sent to me by Joyce the collector, though there they included the country code for Mexico.
There is what appears to be an address: something called Blvd. Kukulcan, Km. 13 Z.H., and a city, Cancun, Q. Roo, Mexico, C.P. 77500.
The letter itself is brief. Two short paragraphs.
Dear Mr. Rush:
I am given your name by associates. I have been told you are a prudent man of business, a lawyer. I write so that you will know that I am informed of the recent activities of my sons. As a father I am not pleased with their undertaking. I wish to take the opportunity to assure you that they will not be permitted to continue. So that you know, I am pledged to this.
I assure you that I will deal with my sons in an appropriate manner. I would ask that as a man of judgment you consider this with regard to any future actions you might wish to take.
Yours truly,
Pablo Ibarra
I finish reading, study the letter for a moment, then read it again, trying to capture the import of the message.
“What do you make of it?” he says.
“I don’t know.”
