Blind Man's Alley (51 page)

“Do I know you?” Though his suit was new and well tailored, something about the man made Alena doubt he was a lawyer or banker—there was something too rough about him despite his clothes.

“You and me, we have a mutual friend,” Darryl Loomis replied. “A man who’s just dying to see you.”

77

W
HAT’S SO
urgent?” Leah asked, eyeing her brother warily.

It was just after nine a.m., and given that Jeremy rarely showed up to work before ten, his mere presence in her office was cause for concern. Then there was how terrible he looked: bloodshot eyes, haggard face, like he’d come straight from a bar. Once they’d gotten through this mess, perhaps the next thing would be an intervention.

“The reporter, Snow,” Jeremy said. “She’s got the story on the Aurora, all of it.”

Leah blanched. She tried to stem panic by telling herself that she couldn’t take her brother’s word for such things. “What makes you say that?”

“She’s been talking to people from my personal life, asking them about it. She knows about the money, knows about Fowler’s role and why he was killed.”

“If she really had the whole story you wouldn’t be hearing rumors about it; you’d be seeing it on the front page of the paper.”

Jeremy was looking carefully at his sister, a queasy expression on his face. “What really happened to Jack Pellettieri?” he asked after a moment.

Leah was puzzled by the question. “What’re you talking about?”

“The reporter’s telling people his body washed up in New Jersey. Did you have Darryl kill him?”

“Of course not,” Leah said, relaxing a little at this. “That proves it; she’s running a bluff is all. She’s trying to get us to panic by throwing a bunch of shit at the wall.”

Jeremy didn’t look reassured. “You promise that Darryl didn’t take out Pellettieri?”

Leah found herself hesitating. She wasn’t entirely sure whether Darryl might have made an executive decision to kill Pellettieri and not told her. “As far as I know, Pellettieri is quite alive, on a beach in the Caribbean somewhere. What is the reporter claiming?”

“That Jack’s body washed up, and that the police are looking at us for it. That Darryl’s guys did it, on our orders.”

Leah was getting a bad feeling about this. Would the reporter really just make up a phantom dead body? She needed to confront Darryl, see if there was something she didn’t know. And if Pellettieri’s body really had just washed up in New Jersey, and the cops were looking at them? It was ridiculous, of course: she hadn’t arranged for Pellettieri’s murder; she hadn’t even known about it. Could her family be brought down by it regardless? It was an irony too terrible to contemplate.

“I’ll talk to Darryl,” Leah said.

“Call him now.”

“Darryl isn’t much of one for phones,” Leah said dryly.

“This reporter’s going to run a story saying we had Fowler and Pellettieri killed. It’s going to ruin us, even if we don’t end up getting arrested.”

“Just because she’s sniffing around on this doesn’t mean she has anything,” Candace replied. She was trying to figure out whether there was any way the reporter could have enough to actually publish a story. She didn’t see how she could, but then, she didn’t know what the reporter knew. The story on the Aurora had caught them off guard, after all. “And besides, Dad has pretty much shut her down over there anyway—unless she can backup every single word there’s no way they’re running any story.”

“I think we need to tell Dad,” Jeremy said.

“Tell Dad what?”

“All of it.”

Leah never would have thought she’d hear Jeremy suggest taking a problem to their father, let alone the particular set of problems they were facing now. “Are you crazy?” she replied. “First of all, he’ll kill us. And what is it you think he can do that we can’t do ourselves?”

“He’s been at this a lot longer than we have. He knows all the tricks.”

“I can’t believe you’re serious about bringing Dad into this. You made me promise I wouldn’t tell him about any of it.”

“’Cause I thought we could handle it. If I’d known then …”

Leah’s eyes narrowed, her whole face going tight. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that this never seems to end. People get killed, and it just gets worse.”

“Don’t you dare blame me for the mess we’re in,” Leah said angrily.

Jeremy did blame her. He knew it was his mistakes that had started it, but it was her decisions that had escalated it to where it was now. But he knew better than to say that.

“We need to find out exactly what it is the reporter knows,” Leah continued. “Who’s she been talking to?”

Jeremy didn’t want to bring Alena into this, didn’t want his sister dragging her in for some kind of interrogation. “I told you,” he said. “It’s people I know socially. I have no idea why the reporter would think they’d know anything.”

Knowing her brother, Leah was sure a woman was involved. “Does she?”

Jeremy pretended not to understand. “Does who?”

“Whoever this woman is that Snow’s talking to. Does she know anything about the Aurora?”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Jeremy said. “The question is, does the reporter have enough to run a story, and if she does, how can we stop it?”

“I’ll talk to Darryl today,” Leah said. “You just lie low.”

DARRYL ADMITTED
it at once. “I went there to get him to run, like we’d talked about,” he said, his eyes meeting Leah’s via his Lincoln’s rearview mirror. “He wasn’t interested. We couldn’t trust him, so I did what had to be done.”

This wasn’t close to good enough. “And you never told me?”

“You said you weren’t going to ask about Jack because you didn’t want to know,” Darryl countered.

Leah wasn’t buying it. “I meant ask where he was, not whether you’d decided to kill him, for Christ’s sake. You can’t do something like that without our okay. Who else are they going to look at for killing Pellettieri than us?”

Darryl didn’t look particularly defensive. “Why would they look at you?” he said. “You never even met Jack Pellettieri.”

“You know that’s not the point.”

“Sure it is. You didn’t know Pellettieri was dead, let alone tell anyone to smoke him.”

Leah wasn’t persuaded her lack of knowledge really meant she was out of harm’s way. “Why would the police be keeping his death a secret? Can they do that?”

“Not for long,” Darryl said. “And not for a damn good reason. The strangest thing is that someone would leak it while the lid was on.”

“Doesn’t that suggest the police are up to something? Planting a trap?”

Darryl shrugged. “I can find out what the reporter’s got,” he said.

“How would you do that?”

“It may take some pressure.”

Leah didn’t like the sound of that. “What are you suggesting exactly?”

“Accidents do happen,” Darryl said. “Even to reporters.”

Leah shook her head sharply. Jeremy was right: violence had only made things worse for them, and going after a reporter who was known to be working a big story about their family was not something they could get away with. “No way,” she said. “All that does is get us deeper into shit. You stay away from the reporter. Are we clear?”

Darryl looked at her, his gaze blank. “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

SIMON ROTH
made no attempt to hide his displeasure at his son’s abrupt appearance in his office. “Can’t it wait?” he demanded, then stopped short when he saw the look in Jeremy’s eyes.

“I’m in big trouble, Dad,” Jeremy said.

78

J
UDGE LASKY
was holding the hearing under seal, closing the courtroom. Duncan would’ve preferred to be in open court, so that no matter what happened there would be a public record out there, but he’d already used up too much of the judge’s patience to put up a fight about it.

Duncan arrived a few minutes before ten. The judge’s deputy was chatting with the court reporter; two court officers stood near the door through which they would bring Rafael up from the holding cell. Duncan hadn’t made any attempt to see Rafael; he assumed the guards wouldn’t let him. If they did, he didn’t know what Rafael’s reaction would be: his former client had told Duncan in no uncertain terms to get lost, and he was sure Rafael had no idea what was going on. Duncan figured he’d have plenty of time to explain if he pulled this off, and if he failed, then it wouldn’t really matter.

He walked through the empty rows of seats, then past Steven Blake and Leah Roth. Blake nodded to Duncan, one old pro to another, while Leah ignored him completely. Duncan sat down in the front row, directly behind the defense table.

This was the worst time of all, the couple of minutes where nothing was happening, just before the battle was joined. Duncan had been thrown out of sleep at six a.m. sharp, well before his alarm was to go off, instantly completely awake. His nerves were thrumming, his hands clammy. He took a bottle of water out of his bag and had a large sip, though the dryness in the back of his throat returned seconds later.

Robert Walker came in, sat down at the defense table in front of Duncan without acknowledging his presence. Duncan smiled at the thought that he’d managed to have every possible side in the case—judge, defense, prosecution, and witness—all pissed at him at once. It was an accomplishment of sorts. Here he was, an unemployed, clientless lawyer, with nobody in his corner. There was no safety net, no next time if he failed.

Finally Judge Lasky entered from the back of the courtroom, everybody obediently standing as he made his way to the bench. The judge peered out at each of them in turn, like he was silently taking attendance. “Let’s bring the defendant in,” Lasky said to the court officers, and a few moments later Rafael was brought to the defense table.

To Duncan’s surprise, the judge then turned not to him, but to Steven Blake. “Mr. Blake, I assume you would like to be heard on your motion before we begin?”

Blake readily agreed, making his way into the well of the courtroom, buttoning his suit jacket as he did so. Duncan also stood, not understanding what was going on. “Your Honor,” he said, “I’m not aware of any motion filed by Mr. Blake.”

“Did you not serve a copy of your motion on Mr. Riley?” Lasky asked Blake.

“I didn’t know that Mr. Riley had opened his own law practice, Your Honor,” Blake said. “We served the defense counsel of record.”

“Mr. Blake certainly knows how to find me, Your Honor,” Duncan replied. “We worked closely together for a number of years, and he’s contacted me at home on numerous occasions.”

“Seeing as this morning is all about indulging you, Mr. Riley, I’m inclined to indulge Mr. Blake, though he certainly should have served you with papers. I don’t want to postpone this hearing, so, Mr. Blake, why don’t you summarize your argument?”

“Certainly, Your Honor. We think there are several reasons to quash the subpoena of Leah Roth. As a procedural matter, we think it was entirely inappropriate for Mr. Riley to file a subpoena when he is not representing any party in the case and he is not maintaining an actual legal practice. More substantively, Ms. Roth simply has no relevant information to impart regarding this case. And if we assume for the sake of argument that she did have relevant information, the only way that Mr. Riley would know about it is through privileged communications, and his questioning her based on what he learned in those conversations would violate not only the attorney-client privilege but also my firm’s work-product privilege. Lastly, we believe that Mr. Riley has served this subpoena out of, frankly, personal animus, and that the court should not allow him to use the judicial process to work out his own private agenda.”

Duncan was alarmed to see that the judge was paying close attention to Blake’s argument. “So in your view,” the judge said, “Mr. Riley could be breaking privilege simply by asking a question where he was drawing on his knowledge of privileged matters?”

“Absolutely,” Blake said. “If he knows the information through privileged communications, it hardly matters whether he is relaying it himself or doing it through the questioning of a witness, especially when the witness in question is a former client. Clients have the right to expect that their lawyers won’t turn around and use their confidences against them.”

“But the attorney-client privilege is not absolute,” Lasky said. “And it does not extend to future criminal conduct, which I believe is what Mr. Riley is alleging, at least in part. I couldn’t help but notice, Mr. Blake, that your motion was silent regarding your firm’s positional conflict in this matter. It seemed a curious omission.”

Blake appeared confused by the question, though Duncan wasn’t buying it. “In what sense, Your Honor?” Blake said.

“Your argument then suggested the Roths had some interest in the outcome of this case. The conflict was because the victim of the shooting was in effect an employee of Roth Properties, and that your firm was therefore constrained from investigating the recent allegations in the press that Fowler was involved in improper evictions at Riis as part of Mr. Nazario’s defense. That does at least lend some credence to Mr. Riley’s claim that there is a connection between Roth Properties and this case.”

Duncan was trying to catch up. This was the first he knew about how Blake had gotten the firm out of representing Nazario. “Here’s the way I see it,” Lasky continued. “I don’t know right now whether this proceeding is going to prove a waste of time. We will all know soon enough. Once that has become clear, I will take appropriate action. If it turns out that Ms. Roth’s time has been wasted here today, well, I’m sorry for that, but I can assure her that Mr. Riley will face steep consequences for having wasted it.

“That still leaves privilege issues. You, Mr. Blake, will be free to object to questions that you think implicate attorney-client privilege, and to counsel your client, within limits, if you think privilege is implicated by her answer or potential answers. If I ever contemplate unsealing the transcript of today’s proceedings, I will first allow you to note any privileged material that you would like redacted. If I find that this hearing has been meritless, I will strike the proceeding from the record in its entirety and no transcript will exist. Fair enough, Mr. Blake?”

Blake looked unhappy but resigned. “I appreciate Your Honor’s efforts to protect my client’s interests, but the easiest way to do so is simply to quash this subpoena. There’re also the procedural issues—particularly that Mr. Riley does not actually represent a party in this case.”

“Mr. Riley appeared before me as an officer of the court alleging a fraud. I think he is entitled, and I am obligated, to find out whether there is merit to that claim. If there’s not, I assure you it will be dealt with. Mr. Riley, call your witness.”

LEAH ROTH
was dressed in a black suit, the jacket buttoned, a steel gray shirt underneath. Her hair was pulled back, adding to the austerity of her appearance. Her thin face appeared almost gaunt, her paleness turned to pallor. She looked her wealth, Duncan thought, but she did not look well.

After she’d been sworn in, Duncan stood and made his way to the podium. He started with some basic background questions, necessary to establish who she was, where she worked, and what she did there, as well as the roles in the company occupied by her brother and father. Leah answered quickly and crisply, doing a fairly convincing show of boredom.

“Roth Properties was the developer of a building project called the Aurora Tower, correct?” Duncan asked.

“That’s right.”

“Can you describe the Aurora Tower?”

“It’s a thirty-six-story high-end condominium development.”

“Have there been problems during its construction?”

Leah shifted in her seat. “There was an accident, yes, if that’s what you’re referring to. Three workers were killed, and others injured, due to a partial collapse.”

“Were you the Roth Properties executive supervising the Aurora’s construction?”

“My brother was in charge of the project, though as the developer we do not supervise the actual construction. That’s the general contractor’s job.”

“Do you have an understanding as to what caused the accident?”

“I’m not an engineer.”

“Understood. But please answer the question.”

Leah’s mouth tightened slightly. “My understanding is that the subcontractor who was responsible for pouring the concrete did not undertake standard safety measures. As a result the concrete wasn’t properly supported, allowing for the collapse.”

“Who was that subcontractor?”

“Pellettieri Concrete.”

“Who was in charge of the company?”

“Jack Pellettieri,” Leah said, spitting out the name.

“Mr. Pellettieri has disappeared, correct?”

“Apparently so,” Leah said, shifting in her seat. Duncan guessed she was braced for him to bring up Pellettieri’s death. He wasn’t going to do so, however: he couldn’t prove that Pellettieri was in fact dead, and raising it without proof risked making him look crazy. There was enough danger of that as it was.

“Is it your understanding that Mr. Pellettieri was skimming money from the Aurora construction?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“How was he able to do so?”

“He did a few things. Billing for work that wasn’t performed, no-show jobs.”

“In essence, he was stealing money from your company, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Was anyone else involved in this skimming?”

Leah hesitated for a moment, Duncan thinking she was worried about a trap. “I don’t know,” she said. Okay, Duncan thought, so you are going to lie under oath. He’d assumed she would, but hadn’t been sure. Now the question was whether he’d be able to expose it.

“At the time of his disappearance, Mr. Pellettieri was under investigation by a grand jury, correct?”

Leah glanced over at Blake, apparently expecting an objection. “I have heard rumors to that effect,” she said. “But I obviously don’t know whether or not they are true.”

“Your Honor,” Blake protested, “what does this line of questioning about the Aurora possibly have to do with the murder of Sean Fowler?”

“It’s a fair question, Mr. Riley,” Judge Lasky said, peering down at Duncan. “Tie it together or move on, counsel.”

“Certainly,” Duncan said to the judge, before turning back to Leah. “Do you know who Sean Fowler, the victim in this case, was?”

“I never met him, but I know he did security work for our company.”

“When do you first recall hearing of Sean Fowler?”

“I believe it was the day after he was killed. It happened on our site, and he was working for us at the time, so obviously we heard about it, were concerned.”

“Your brother had never mentioned Mr. Fowler to you?”

Leah hesitated slightly, Duncan not sure if it was sincere or a pose. “I don’t believe so,” she said.

“Were you aware that Mr. Fowler worked at the Aurora?”

“It doesn’t surprise me. His employer does virtually all of our security work.”

“Mr. Fowler was involved in Mr. Pellettieri’s skimming from the Aurora, correct?”

For the first time Duncan saw a little fear in Leah. “I don’t know the details of Mr. Pellettieri’s skimming,” she said after a moment. “As I said, I believe it was being investigated at the time of his disappearance, but I don’t know what conclusions were reached. You’d have to ask the district attorney’s office.”

“You are aware, are you not, that your brother knew about Mr. Pellettieri’s embezzling?”

“I don’t know anything of the kind,” Leah said coldly.

“As you sit here today, Ms. Roth, you know that your brother was actually involved in the skimming, correct?”