Both horses snorted loudly as they kept pace with each other, challenging their riders to keep them in check.
What could be more perfect, he thought, than to be away from the office, the telephone, the papers on his desk, the coroner’s reports, and all the crap that went with his job. Instead he was riding next to this beautiful young woman. His wife and sons had gone to visit his in-laws in Naples, Florida, and he was left to fend for himself.
Too bad
, he thought, reveling in the moment of the day. Although he felt twinges of guilt remembering last night, it didn’t spoil the joy he now felt. He hadn’t made love like that in thirty years. And the thrill of knowing that he still had the stamina overwhelmed his sense of guilt—at least for the present. He knew himself too well, though. He knew that he’d suffer later for his pleasure. But later was later, and the present was too perfect to think about later.
It was ten a.m. They had been riding since eight. His ribs and his butt ached. He wasn’t sure if it was from the horse or Maria.
“I’m hungry. How about we turn back?” he asked.
“I could go on forever,” she said. Her thick brown hair billowed behind her in the wind.
“I’ll bet you could,” he laughed. His voice wavered with the movement of the horse as he stood in the stirrups to give his rear a rest.
“OK, but let’s gallop back!” She pulled Jamilia’s head around and quickly executed a turn in the opposite direction.
Rosa’s turn was not as smooth, but he was glad to be going home to a warm shower. Both horses bolted forward and streaked toward the stables—white manes flying and hooves pounding like kettledrums.
Maria reached the barn first. She quickly whipped her right leg over the saddle and slid down the left side of the horse, laughing wildly at her victory and trying to catch her breath. She started to cough and choke. Rosa quickly dismounted and ran up to her, grabbing her from behind to attempt a Heimlich maneuver. But before he could apply any pressure, she turned in his arms and kissed him warmly on the lips.
“I’m all right,” she said, impressed by his quick response and protectiveness.
“You scared me. I thought you were in trouble.” He kissed her paternally on the head, holding her close. He was old enough to be her father, but he quickly dismissed the thought. “We smell of horse.” He nuzzled her ear.
“You’re right.” She sniffed at her arm. “
Putzamo
! We stink. Let’s wash, take showers.”
“Together?” he asked. “I haven’t taken a shower with a woman in over thirty years.”
“
Cherto
.
Como no?
Certainly,why not? But first we have to take care of the horses.” She tried to wriggle from his arms, but his grip was too strong. He led her into the barn and coaxed her onto the fresh stack of hay. He couldn’t wait for a shower, and neither could she.
The warm water, the lather, and her hands had felt wonderful. Rosa lay across the canopied bed and was about to fall asleep when Maria shook him lightly.
“I have something I want you to see,” she said authoritatively.
“What is it?” He was surprised at her tone.
“I have a film you have to see.” She slid off the bed and walked over to the dresser, opened her purse, and took out the cassette.
“What film is it?” He sat up, holding out his hand. “Here, let me see it.”
She dropped the cassette on the bed.
“
Raiders of the Lost Ark
?” he laughed. “I haven’t seen this in at least…God knows how long.”
“Probably twenty years ago. It was made in 1981.” She took a cigarette from her bag and lit it.
“But why this film? Couldn’t you have gotten us something a little more current?”
“This
is
current,” she retorted, taking a long drag. She removed the cassette from the sleeve and put it in the VCR sitting in an armoire across from the bed. She carefully laid her cigarette on a saucer which had coffee rings from the night before. She pressed
PLAY
and then
FAST FORWARD
.
“What are you doing?” He laughed, amazed at her unpredictable behavior. He got up, the top sheet wrapped around his waist.
“You’ll see.” She stopped the film, reached for her cigarette, and hit
PLAY
.
A few seconds of Indiana Jones being tied to a stake…then a blank screen and silence for two seconds. The screen lit again, and there was Joe Maglio sitting at his desk in the study at his home. He was wearing casual clothes, a black turtleneck. He smiled into the camera, saying nothing. His hands were folded on the desktop. He cleared his throat.
Rosa walked toward the screen, mouth open.
“Nick, I asked Celia Lopez to give you this film if something happened to me. It’s late, a little after midnight. Christy and the kids are asleep.” He paused. “This is difficult for me.” He laughed. “For the first time in my life, I’m at a loss for words. It’s eerie, you know, talking from the grave. As I’m speaking I know that if you ever see this, I’ll be a dead man…dead man talking.” He shook
his head and chuckled. Then his eyes became watery. “And I know it’s got to be weird for you to be watching this, too. But it’s very important that you listen to everything I have to say very carefully, and do what I tell you. I chose Celia because she’s the only one in the firm that I trust with this tape. She’s loyal, and you can count on her if you need her. She’s never let me down, and she’ll never betray you.” He paused and cleared his throat.
“I never told you anything about the firm or myself that I was ashamed of—but I’m going to, now. I’m not good at confessions, so bear with me.” He took a deep breath.
“Twenty years ago, I started this firm.” He picked up a pen and started toying with it. “I knew I was a good trial lawyer but a terrible money manger. I didn’t have the time to worry about money- or rainmaking. But I knew we needed both. Then Levin came along, and he could manage money. Boy, he could work miracles. He kept costs down, staved off creditors, and let the firm’s coffers fill. And then came Silvio, always the supreme rainmaker, in with the unions. God knows what he gave them, but they always sent their business our way. Neither one of those fucks could try a case if their life depended on it. But back then we were a great team. We got along. We hired talent. Each one did what he did best. We started getting bigger verdicts, more cases, more important cases. The money started pouring in. We started taking bigger salaries—partnership draws—bigger houses, cars, you know. And I admit, I was the worst. The more I made, the more I spent. And Christy is no miser, as you know. My family started to demand more and more. The more they got, the more they wanted; and you know me—it was hard to say no. The bigger cases demanded heavy up-front costs to pay the experts witnesses. The explosion cases, the collapse cases, the defective tire cases—all those huge, open mouths to feed. And the politicians, judges. You know, Nick, if you don’t want them against you, you got to feed them, too. It became a runaway train.
“I started robbing Peter to pay Paul. I took money from one account and put it another and then back in the original account. I took money from the escrow account to pay my mortgage.
The clients always got paid, but late instead of on time.” He paused and picked up a glass with his left hand and took a drink.
Rosa hit the stop button—”Son of a bitch.”
“What are you doing? Let him finish.” Maria stabbed out her cigarette and reached for the
PLAY
button.
“No.” He pulled her hand away. “I want to rewind this last bit.” He rewound the film and watched carefully as Joe picked up the glass. “Son of a bitch. He’s left-handed.”
Joe put the glass down and continued. “I always threw in a little extra, like interest on a loan—a thank you to the client for having patience. It worked out for a while. Silvio and Levin closed their eyes, I guess, and let me do my thing. Then we had a serious dry spell. Payments on cases we had won were delayed by appeals. Trials were being postponed and the bills kept coming in. We started fighting every day. They wanted me to stop spending money. Our line of credit was almost exhausted—a two million dollar line. I told them that the valve would open up the way it always has and we’d be flush again. We were owed millions. Cases
I
won.
“I was up against it. My mortgage was three months overdue. Foreclosure notices were coming fast. Celia hid the notices from everyone in the office but me—Christy had no idea what was going on because all the bills came to the office.
“I was between a rock and a hard place. We had checks coming in from two settled cases in about thirty days. Gross fees of about eight hundred thousand dollars were due then. But I couldn’t wait thirty days because I was losing my home and I was too proud to tell Christy about the financial bind I was in.
“I wrote myself a check for twenty-five thousand from the client escrow account—enough to tide me until the settlement money arrived. The check overdrew the account, and the bank notified the Disciplinary Board. There were already two complaints against me, so the Board started an investigation. Silvio and Levin pointed to me as having control of the funds. When things got dry, those two bastards let me do all the finagling and check signing. I was the sacrificial lamb.
“I knew that I could resolve this with Don Harding, the head of the Board. I know Don personally, I would tell him I’d made a mistake, that my partners had nothing to do with my misconduct. I would pay back the twenty-five thousand, pay a fine, do some pro bono work, get a slap on the wrist. At the worst I might have to give up my license for a few months. But by then the money from the settled cases would be in the bank. The postponed cases would be ready to try and the cases on appeal would be breaking loose. We’d be flush again. But Silvio and Levin were ready to throw me to the wolves to save their own asses. They demanded my resignation.”
He shook his head, looking down at the desk.
“I founded this fucking firm. I supported those fucks for twenty years, and they wanted to kick me out—see me disbarred so they could take all the cases and not pay me a dime on any of them. Cute—right? No license to practice. No right to collect a fee from a case—any case. Probably ten million dollars in outstanding fees, and I wouldn’t have a legal right to one penny.” His voice raised. “My money.” He pounded his fist on the desk, then stared emptily into the camera lens and then paused.
“You see, I know they also stole money—the firm’s money. But I don’t know where they put it. I checked every bank to see if there was an account I could trace. But it was always a blind alley, a black hole into which they had siphoned money for twenty years.” He paused and blinked. It was clear that he was distracted and struggling for control. Then he started again.
“Celia heard about the Board’s investigation. There’s no hiding anything from her. She was upset. She came to me. She has an incredible sense of justice, street justice. She swore that she would help me—and she has. And she collected information that will nail the coffin shut on Silvio and Levin, and send them away for a long time—a treasure trove. She’s to give it to you after you see this tape. Remember, Nick, be careful. If they know you have this information, you’ll be where I am now. Until you get out, you’ll have to protect yourself. You’ll have to pretend to be their friend. You’ll have to be grateful for the crumbs they throw
you, and flattered if they hand you any large cases—especially my cases. I don’t want anything to happen to you. You’re like a son to me. In fact, you
are
like me. You grew up in the streets, tough and smart. The best training a trial lawyer can have. And you’re almost as good-looking.” He laughed.
Then, almost schizoid, his brow furrowed. He became lost in thought, looking away from the camera for a moment as if in a dream. Then, just as suddenly, he focused on the camera and hunkered down like an animal ready to spring. He gritted his teeth and pointed his finger at the lens. “I want you to know that I’m going after the bastards. They’re scum and I’m going to prove it with this.” He held up a thin manila file. “Everything I need is right here, and they’re going down. So far down, even the devil won’t be able to find them. They’re dead meat.” He slapped the file down on the desk top and took another drink. “And
I’m
dead meat. So I’ve instructed Celia to deliver this to you if something happens to me. It will be in a sealed envelope. I’m not going to put your name on it in case it gets into the wrong hands. I want you to take it directly to the attorney general, Ron Fisk. And I mean directly. Don’t show it to anyone but Fisk. He’s smart. He’s straight and he’ll go right to the top with this information, undoubtedly the FBI. And heads will roll.” Joe paused to take a deep breath and another sip of water. “Avoid Muriel Gates. This doesn’t belong with the DA’s office. If she gets her hands on this file, she’ll just fuck it up. She’s ambitious, vicious, and greedy. I know her like a book. I won’t say anymore about her, only that I made a mistake helping to put her where she is—I must have been out of my mind. She’s no friend. Before you hand this file over to Fisk, I want you to demand protection—from the feds, not the city cops. to clean it up.”
“In case you’re wondering why I haven’t gone to Fisk with this myself, it’s because I need more time. I don’t have what I need yet, but I hope to have it before the Riley trial. I can’t tell you more. If I don’t make it, I don’t want you caught up in this mess—out of loyalty to me. I don’t want that to happen. It’s my mess and I have to clean it up.”