Sparring Partners(8)
Mack frowned and put down his fork. “The FBI?”
“They went through the divorce file and looked at your records, such as they were. The fifty thousand in cash to Lisa raised some eyebrows. No one seemed to know where the money came from. According to the rumors, you took some money and fled town.”
Jake paused and took a bite. This was the perfect moment for Mack to fill in the rather substantial gaps in the story, but he chose not to. Instead, he asked, “Harry Rex thinks the FBI is gone?”
“Yes, sure looks like it. I wouldn’t say he’s worried about anything, but the bankruptcy fraud might be a problem. Apparently, you got some money from somewhere and failed to report it with your other assets.”
Mack seemed to have lost his appetite. “And the divorce?”
“It’s been final for a long time, and he doubts Lisa has any interest in going back to war. Not in her present condition anyway. But, yes, if you hid assets from her, then that could be a problem. I’m doing all the talking here, Marco.”
“And I’m listening real hard, Jake. I’m absorbing and digesting every word. Since I left, I’ve spent hours every day wondering what I left behind, trying to visualize every scenario in which somebody might be looking for me.”
“Harry Rex is convinced there’s no one.”
“And you? What’s your opinion?”
“I get paid to give opinions, Mack, and I’m not your lawyer. I’m not getting involved, but it would be helpful to know the facts. I’ll relay them to Harry Rex, in the strictest confidence, of course.”
Mack shoved his plate a few inches away and folded his hands on the table in front of him. He glanced around, casually, without a hint of suspicion. In a lower voice, he began, “I had four cases, four clients, all pulpwood cutters who were injured by the same model of chain saw. One guy lost an eye, one his left hand, one some fingers, the fourth guy just had a big scar on his forehead. At first I thought the safety guard was defective. The lawsuits looked promising but they eventually petered out. I tried to bluff the company into a settlement but got nowhere. I lost interest and the files collected dust. You know what it’s like. Months and years passed. Then one glorious day I got the magic phone call from New York, big firm, Durban & Lang. Their client, a Swiss outfit, wanted a quick, confidential settlement to get the things off their books. A hundred thousand per case, with that much thrown in for litigation expenses. Half a mil, Jake, just like that. A dream come true. Since I never filed suit, there were no records anywhere except in my office and in New York. The temptation was right there, and it was beautiful. Our marriage was over, had been for a long time, and everything fell into place. It looked like the perfect time for the perfect crime. I could grab the money while getting the divorce and walk out of the law office for the last time. Leave behind a life that was unhappy, to put it mildly.”
Jake had finished half his salad and pushed the rest of it away. The waiter appeared and cleared the table. Mack said, “I need a drink. You want a beer?”
“Sure.”
“Have you had an Imperial, the national beer?”
“Oh yes. I’ll take another.”
Mack ordered two drafts and stared at the ocean far below them. Jake waited for the beers to arrive. He took a sip, wiped the foam off his upper lip, and asked, “What about the four clients?”
Mack snapped out of his daydream and addressed his beer. After a drink he said, “One was dead, one was missing. The two I found were more than happy to take twenty-five thousand in cash and not tell anyone. I signed the papers and I handed over the money.”
“I’m sure their signatures had to be notarized.”
“So I notarized them. Remember Freda, my old secretary?”
“Of course.”
“Well, I had fired her, and I forged her name and seal on the documents. For the two clients I couldn’t find, I forged their signatures as well. No one knew it. The lawyers in New York didn’t care. They were just happy to get the paperwork and close the cases.”
“You’re not worried about the forgeries?”
“Jake, I’ve worried about everything. When you’ve done something wrong and you’re on the run, you’re always looking over your shoulder, wondering who’s back there.”
“I’m sure. The haul was around four hundred thousand.”
“Yep.”
“That’s impressive.”
“What’s the biggest fee you’ve ever earned, Jake?”
“Well, I got a thousand bucks for Carl Lee Hailey.”
“Your finest moment.”
“Did you ever know a man named Seth Hubbard?”
“I knew of him. Big timber operator.”
“That’s him. He died and there was a massive will contest. I represented his estate, billed about a hundred grand over two years.”
“In seventeen years on the treadmill my biggest fee was twenty thousand from a nice car wreck. Suddenly, I had twenty times that just lying there before me, like a pot of gold. I couldn’t resist the temptation.”
“Any regrets?”
“Plenty. Only cowards run away, Jake. It was wrong, all of it. I should’ve stayed in Clanton, worked through the divorce, and kept some level of presence in the lives of my daughters. And I left my mother, too. I haven’t seen her in three years.”