Blind Man's Alley (39 page)

54

S
ORRY TO
keep you waiting, Ms. Snow,” Leah said, extending her hand.

Candace, who’d been cooling her heels for nearly half an hour and didn’t appreciate it, made a point of hesitating an instant before shaking hands. “Thank you for seeing me, Ms. Roth,” Candace replied. “I know your family isn’t the biggest fan of my reporting.”

Leah feigned confusion as she gestured Candace to follow her back to her office. “I don’t think my family has any opinion of you at all, Ms. Snow.”

“Call me Candace.”

“Call me Ms. Roth,” Leah said. Candace turned to her, needing a second before it registered as some form of joke. “An old icebreaker of my father’s. Perhaps it works better among men.”

“Perhaps,” Candace said. “When I said your family wasn’t a fan of mine, I didn’t mean to imply your family paid that much attention to me, just the lawsuit.”

They’d reached Leah’s office, which offered a spectacular view of the park. Candace debated ignoring or complimenting it. Given the extent to which they’d already gotten off on the wrong foot, she decided to go for complimenting.

“Wow,” she said. “That’s quite a view.”

“Thanks,” Leah said. “I imagine you work out of a cubicle?”

“In the newsroom, sure,” Candace said, not rising to the bait.

“I’m sure it helps build a certain esprit de corps,” Leah said.

“Most of my work takes place out in the world,” Candace said. “You know, uncovering corruption, that sort of thing.”

Leah smiled thinly, signaling she was ready to move on from their initial round of territorial pissing. “So, Candace, I understand you were interested in some campaign contributions that were made to Speaker Markowitz?”

“Yes,” Candace said, pulling a piece of paper out of her shoulder bag. “I have a list of LLCs that have made donations to him, and I’m wondering if you can confirm whether they are owned by your family.”

Leah took the paper from Candace but didn’t so much as glance at it. “We do control a number of corporations that have made political contributions, including but not limited to contributions to Speaker Markowitz, who we believe has a very bright future in this city, and perhaps beyond. The limits on political contributions treat every corporation as a separate entity, regardless of who owns it. So there’s nothing illegal, or wrong, about various corporations in which we have an ownership stake making political contributions.”

“But isn’t this just a loophole for you to get around the contribution limits?”

Leah showed no reaction to the challenge. “As I said, under the law, each company is treated as a separate entity, like it was a separate person. So just like a big family can make more contributions than a small family, so can somebody who has an ownership in multiple companies.”

“Do these corporations actually conduct any business? As far as I can tell they’re just shells, other than the political donations they make.”

Leah looked like she was losing patience. “Our tax lawyers handle our various corporate entities,” she said. “I can tell you that all of these companies are properly registered with the state and are legitimate corporations.”

“Can you confirm for me, then, that all the companies on that list are owned or controlled by your family?”

“I wouldn’t know off the top of my head. I’ll have someone get back to you on the list. But I can confirm that we operate numerous LLCs that make political contributions. And I want to stress that Mr. Markowitz is by no means the only politician to whom we make such donations. Any article singling him out and implying wrongdoing on his part would be misinformed, if not libelous.”

Candace was now getting why Leah was meeting with her at all: this was a favor to Markowitz, to make sure he didn’t end up alone in the spotlight. “Could you furnish me with a list of who else you made donations to?”

Leah scoffed. “That’s not something I just have here on my desk. I don’t really see why it’s our obligation to get you that.”

Candace figured it was a waste of time to press the point. “There was one other thing I wanted to ask you about,” she said instead. “Sean Fowler.”

Leah appeared confused, though Candace thought it looked like acting. Interesting, she thought. Had Leah expected to be asked about this?

“What about him?”

“You know who he is?”

“He was working for us when he was murdered,” Leah replied tartly. “Of course I know who he was.”

“He also worked for you at the Aurora, correct?”

Leah looked slightly uncomfortable for the first time in the interview. “What does Mr. Fowler’s death have to do with the Aurora?”

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Candace shot back.

Leah laughed, or at least made the gesture of laughter. “I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re getting at.”

“My understanding is that Mr. Fowler was involved in the embezzling from the Aurora,” Candace said. “Isn’t that your understanding as well?”

“I don’t know anything about that,” Leah said. “The man’s dead, Candace. I hope you won’t slander his name with unsupported rumors.”

Candace decided to shift gears—she had no reason to think Leah knew anything about what Fowler had been up to. “Any comment on Jack Pellettieri’s imminent indictment?”

“The only thing I know about that is what I read in your newspaper,” Leah said. “I agreed to speak with you regarding our political donations, Candace, not the accident at the Aurora.”

“Putting the accident to one side, then, how about Pellettieri’s skimming from the project?”

“We’ve become aware of potential issues with some of the billing. Given that there’s litigation, as well as the DA’s investigation, I’m not going to comment further.”

“Are you concerned that your brother is going to be implicated in Pellettieri’s skimming?”

Leah’s gaze turned cold. “Of course not,” she said, the words quick and sharp.

“What I’m hearing is that your brother was actively involved in overbilling the construction costs, and that Sean Fowler was involved with it too. Of course, he’s not going to talk, is he?”

“Print anything like that and we’ll sue you,” Leah said. “You’ve got absolutely no support for that claim—no witness, no documents, nothing.”

Candace was puzzled by Leah’s confidence in that regard. But the most interesting thing was that she was virtually certain that Leah had seen this coming. “I’m not just making this up,” she said. “I do have sources. If you won’t comment, perhaps your brother would?”

“I really don’t think you do have sources. Tommy Nelson was pulling your chain. He’s got a funny sense of humor.”

Candace knew her composure had failed her. She remembered her call to the Aurora after the break-in, being told that Nelson was off the project. “I didn’t say anything about who my sources are,” she managed to say.

“And I didn’t ask,” Leah said. “I don’t ask people to tell me things I already know.”

55

Y
OU WANTED
to see me?” Duncan said.

Blake didn’t look up from his computer monitor as Duncan came in and sat down in his office. Duncan had lost his comfort level with his boss: Blake had always been brusque—virtually all of the firm’s partners were; it was an inevitable outgrowth of a life spent billing in six-minute increments—but before, Duncan had always been confident that he was on the man’s good side. Lately that felt far from clear.

When Blake finally spoke, it was without shifting his gaze from the screen. “The murder case,” he said. “We can’t keep it.”

Duncan thought he must have misunderstood. “What do you mean?”

Blake finally looked over, already seeming hostile. “A positional conflict has arisen with an existing client. We can’t represent the guy on the murder anymore.”

Duncan just sat there for a second, his mind scrambling, completely at a loss. “This is Roth pulling us off?” he finally said.

Blake frowned. “Are you under the impression I have to explain myself to you?”

Duncan shook his head but made no effort to hide his frustration. “It’s not that simple, though. Rafael’s indigent, for one thing, there’s a trial date on the judge’s calendar. We’ll need the judge’s permission to stop—”

“So we’ll get the judge’s permission,” Blake interrupted. “I’ll handle it.”

“But the case is going really well,” Duncan couldn’t stop himself from saying, though he already realized that there was no point in arguing with Blake about it.

“So you’ll pass on what you have to the kid’s new lawyer, and he’ll go from there. You’re not irreplaceable, Duncan. We’re off the case, and this is not a debate.”

NOT KNOWING
who else to talk to about it, Duncan went to Lily, going up to her office and closing her door behind him.

Lily looked up at him with a smile. “Again with the closed door?” she said. “Isn’t it a little late in the day to get rumors started about us?”

“Blake’s taking me off the Nazario case,” Duncan said. “The firm is dropping it, saying we have a positional conflict. I don’t even know what that fucking means.”

“I think it just means that while there’s not a conventional conflict, in the sense of two clients being on opposite sides of a case, the position we would take for one client conflicts with positions we’re taking for another. Though how that connects to a murder …”

Duncan had a pretty good idea of how it might relate to the murder, but Lily didn’t need to know that. “It’s something to do with Roth, obviously. Blake won’t even confirm that.”

“I thought Roth signed off on your taking the case?”

Duncan hesitated, wondering how far in he wanted to bring Lily. “I think the plan was that we’d plead it out quickly.”

Lily frowned at that. She started to say something but thought better of it. Duncan didn’t blame her for stopping to think about whether she wanted to know the answer before she asked a question. “I’m not sure I’m following,” was all she said.

“The point is, they wanted it to go away. When I started to break apart the DA’s case, then all of a sudden there was a conflict. So what the hell do I do about it?”

Lily looked at him quizzically. “What can you possibly do about it?”

“I could resign,” Duncan said, partly just to hear himself say it, see how it sounded.

Lily looked incredulous; then she smiled. “And do what, open up a solo criminal defense practice down on Pine Street? With your one nonpaying client? Your protest is duly noted, but let’s be serious.”

Duncan shrugged, acknowledging the absurdity of it. Lily was right, of course: he wasn’t going to resign. “Don’t I have some kind of obligation here, though?”

“Duncan Riley trying to do the right thing,” Lily mused. “How long have I slept?”

“This guy’s my client, and I was getting it done for him. Am I really supposed to just turn that off on command?”

“If you’ve got another choice,” Lily said, “I’m not seeing what it is.”

Duncan went back to his office, if anything more frustrated. Out of nowhere the thought occurred to him that he was never going to speak to his mother again, that she was no longer alive. Not that he would’ve asked her for advice at a moment like this anyway, but if he could there was no doubt she would tell him that he had to do something.

“WHAT’S SO
urgent?” Leah asked as she showed Duncan into her office.

Duncan understood the risk of coming here, knew he’d back out of doing so if he gave himself too much time to think. He owed this to Rafael; he owed this to his own sense of self.

“The Nazario case,” Duncan said. “Suddenly Blake’s telling me we’re off it.”

“And you’re coming to me about this why?”

“You closed it down, didn’t you?”

Leah smiled thinly, letting him see her ebbing patience. “If I’d felt the need to discuss this with you, don’t you think I would have?”

She had sat down behind her desk while Duncan was still standing. He decided to sit across from her, hoping that would maybe cool the dynamics a little. “You guys knew I represented Rafael,” he said, speaking slowly and softly. “I thought you wanted me to.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Leah said, her voice also going soft, though it only made her sound more threatening.

Duncan knew he was on a tightrope but tried to go forward. “I just mean it surprised me when I was allowed to keep Rafael’s murder case at the start. I figured you guys wouldn’t want us anywhere near it. And then the clear message I got from Blake was to plead it out right away. I assumed that message was actually coming from your family.”

“I think we’re having a misunderstanding of what’s an appropriate way for you to interact with me,” Leah said.

“I don’t like being manipulated. Even by a client. Even by you.”

Leah sighed and looked over at her computer, signaling her lack of interest in continuing the conversation. “Why are you so involved in this kid’s case, anyway? If you’d wanted to be defending murderers, you wouldn’t be working for Blake.”

“I don’t want to be defending murderers. But Rafael’s my client. Look, it’s easy to get lost doing this job. Fighting for my clients—no matter who they are, no matter what they’ve done—is what being a lawyer is. If I compromise that, then it’s like it never really meant anything.”

Leah considered Duncan carefully. “It’s not your decision to make.”

“I’m not starry-eyed. I’m not looking to draw some big line in the sand here. But no one will even explain to me what’s really going on.”

“What if it turns out you don’t actually want to know what’s really going on? You can’t press ‘undo’ when it comes to finding things out.”

“I understand that,” Duncan said, wondering if he fully did.

“All I can say is that Fowler’s murder had the potential to embarrass our business. We preferred that it be handled quietly. But that’s not what you’ve been doing.”

“You mean I’ve been doing too good a job,” Duncan said. “But how does that embarrass your family?”

“I’m not going to draw you a map.”

“He’s innocent, Leah. I’m not trying to hurt your family or anyone else. I’m trying to get an innocent man out of jail.”

Leah looked away, Duncan thinking maybe he was getting somewhere. “Did you know that back in the 1930s the rule of thumb on skyscraper construction was that one worker would die for each floor built?” Leah said after a moment. “Think of that the next time you walk past the Empire State Building.”

“So you’re saying what—Rafael’s a broken egg needed for your omelet? I don’t have a responsibility to help everyone, but I do have a responsibility to help him.”

“Don’t be naive, Duncan; it doesn’t suit you. I’m saying any large building in New York has got some bloodstains hidden beneath its foundations. That’s the reality of doing something on the scale we work on. I’m not being cavalier about the cost; I’m just being realistic about it. You can be on our side, or you can be on Rafael’s side, but you can’t be on both. It’s your choice, but I would imagine it to be a very easy one.”

Duncan, feeling helpless, shook his head. “I don’t want to be a part of this, Leah.”

“You already are,” Leah replied.