Blood Money (28 page)

He flipped the cell phone open with one hand and took out a new cigar with the other, then licked it to give it a little moisture and taste. “Yeah?”

“Marty, we have a big problem…”

It was Margo’s voice, and he knew she was scared from the tremolo in her voice. “What now?”

“There’s a detective who is about to fuck up our lives.”

“What detective? Who?”

“His name is Ralph Kirby and he’s in Gates’ office this second with papers.” She paused to take a deep breath. “Lopez papers.”

“What?”

“It seems that your deceased receptionist kept a list of cases that you set up—including the Riley case. You know, all those arranged death cases, tire blow-outs, heart monitors that didn’t go off…”

“How the fuck could she do that—she wouldn’t have known dick…”

“Yes, she would.” He could hear Margo’s voice shaking as she spoke. “She listened to conversations. Your private line wasn’t very private, it seems.”

“Her word against mine.” Marty spit out the end of his Quay d’Orsay Imperiale.

“No, not really. There’s a written statement from guess who?”

“Come on, don’t play games with me.”

“From Joe Maglio, who signed an affidavit that he suspected these cases were all setups of yours and Harry’s.”

“He’s dead and he can’t testify against us. Forget it. Don’t worry. This is a bunch of shit.”

“What about the two little girls, Marty? They can testify.”

“What two little girls?”

The little girls who belonged to Celia Lopez, Marty. Her daughters.”

“What the fuck do they know? What can they say?”

A lot, Marty.” She exhaled hard into the receiver. “They heard their mother talk about this list, watched her prepare it and…”

“So what? You’re a lawyer, aren’t you?. Maybe they can authenticate the list, but not what’s on it. It’s fucking hearsay.” He was screaming at this point. “Use your brain!” The more information he was given, the more hostile he became.

Harry Levin pried the closed door partly open to ask what was going on, only to have it slammed shut in his face. He hastily pulled back his fingers to protect them from being smashed in the door.

Margo persisted. “Marty, do you remember when Celia used to bring her daughters in during school holidays when she couldn’t find a sitter?”

“OK. So…?” He closed his eyes. He could hardly take any more bad news, which he now believed Margo enjoyed giving him. “No, don’t tell me.”

“Yes, Marty. I’m telling you that they listened in on phone conversations that you had in several cases and they remember exactly what you said. Especially the Riley case where that nice policeman had to die so you could make money, lots of money… Marty, you’re in big trouble.

He wanted to shoot the messenger. But first he needed to keep her quiet. The last thing he needed was for her to go running to the cops.

“Listen, Margo. Now’s not the time to panic. Don’t…”

“Marty, I don’t want any part of this.”

“Listen, cunt,” he yelled. “You
are
part of this, remember?”

“I don’t remember creating a med-mal case by killing the plaintiff, and then ordering a few more murders to cover it up. I wasn’t involved in all the other special ‘cases’ of yours or Harry’s other specially ordered ‘plaintiffs.’ From the looks of things on these documents, you could be classified as a serial killer.”

“Margo, baby, calm down. I love you. Let’s do what we have to do.”

“What?” She was crying. “You’ve ruined my life.”

Harry Levin banged on the door, his face twisted in anger. He had lost his patience. “What’s happening?”

Marty ignored him. “Our lives are not ruined. After this trial, we’ll be together permanently, baby. You have to help me this one last time, and I promise.”

“What do you want me to do? This is a complete mess.”

“I want you to get that file, the Lopez list. Make sure there’s no copies. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Right now Gates is skeptical. She thinks it’s just bullshit that the kids came up with to prove their mother’s murder was something more than a random street crime.”

“Good, good. That’s just what we want.”

“How am I going to get the file? It’s sitting on her desk.”

“Margo, come on. I know how smart you are, baby. And I know how Gates feels about you. She’s crazy about you. She’s not going to let us go down the tubes—’cause if we go down, so does she. You know what she’s afraid of. Use it. Use whatever you can, baby. OK?” Silvio paused, waiting. He could hear her breathing, thinking. He knew her well.

“I did it for you,” she said. “My relationship with Gates was for you. You know that.”

“I know. But see how it worked out? And you’re gonna do this too, won’t you…for us?” he snickered reflexively.

“Maybe…” Margo’s voice had a sudden and distinctive change of tone, from frightened to defiant.

“What do you mean, maybe?”

“I want a piece of the Riley case.”

“What’s a piece?”

“A third. I want a third. I’m not putting myself out as bait for you without a cut, a big cut.”

Silvio laughed, taking the cigar from his mouth. “That’s why I love you, baby. OK, you’re on.” He flipped the cell phone shut. “Overreaching cunt,” he said as he stepped out of the booth. “Who the fuck does she think she is? I’ll give her a third,” he laughed.

“What’s going on? You were yelling.” Levin followed close behind Silvio as he strode down the hall. “Tell me, for God’s sake.”

“You wanna hear, old man? I’ll tell you.” He pushed his cell phone in Harry’s face. “First you do something for a change. Get your hands a little grimy.” He punched a saved number on the cell phone and pushed it in Levin’s face. “Tell him we need him right now.”

Joseph Barnes had kept his robe on as he paced the floor of his chambers. He didn’t like the smell of the case. And he didn’t like Ceratto: he was ungentlemanly, unpredictable, and untrustworthy. He decided to focus his attention on John Asher.

“John, your client is bleeding and is going to hemorrhage to death in the next few days, just like his patient. Why won’t he settle this case? Is he a madman?”

Asher sat back, casually crossing his legs, assuming a relaxed, confidant posture. But he was uneasy. “Your Honor, as you know, the insurance carrier wants to settle. They have expressed their interest right from the beginning. Mr. Ceratto knew this and agreed to accept the limits of the insurance coverage in this case, which as Your Honor knows is two million dollars. The hospital has already tendered its policy. This case should have settled. Mr. Ceratto knows this as well, and I’m assuming would accept the limits of insurance coverage to satisfy the Rileys’ claim.

Judge Barnes turned to Nick, his glasses quivering on the bridge of his nose. “Well, Mr. Ceratto…”

“Judge, it’s the defendant’s prerogative, as you well know. His insurance policy gives him the option to settle or let it go to the jury. It’s my understanding that he wishes the jury to decide his fate. It’s out of my hands, Judge.”

Barnes looked at Asher, his jowls quivering as his voice raised ten decibels. “You tell your client to settle this case. That’s a jury from hell out there, and they’re going to draw and quarter him, after they hang him.” He sat down, folding his arms. He looked down at the document on his desk. “And after they dismember him, I’m going to disembowel him. I’m going to permit punitive damages in this case, which as you know, will at least triple any jury
award. Your client will be spending the rest of his life sweeping floors at a welfare office.”

“Your Honor.” John Asher shook his head. “I’ve explained this to him at least twenty times. He remains steadfast. His position is that he is innocent. That he did no harm to Sean Riley, and he’s willing to take his chance with the jury. He believes justice will prevail.” Asher shrugged his shoulders. “What else can I do, Your Honor?”

“Is he mad?” Barnes face turned beet red. “There is no fucking justice, and you know that. There’s only luck, and I see a
very
unlucky doctor out there.”

Nick shrugged his shoulders. “You never know, Judge. Maybe he’s right.”

“Shut up.” Barnes pointed a finger at Nick. “It’s not your job to second-guess the jury.”

“I do it all the time.” Nick chuckled, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “This is why I go into that courtroom. That’s the shot I take.”

“Well, that’s
my
courtroom you go into, and the shot you take is with my sufferance.”

“Remove me from the case, then.” Nick sat back, glaring.

Asher looked toward Nick, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Is that what your
ex parte
meeting with His Honor was about— your wanting to withdraw from the case? I think I need to know why, don’t you?”

“Ceratto, I ordered you to refrain from discussing this matter, and I remind you that…”

“Yes, Judge, I know. I’m under wraps.” Nick looked at Asher, shaking his head. “Sorry.”

John Asher stood. “Your Honor, with all due respect, I want to put my objection on the record that an
ex parte
meeting was conducted with Mr. Ceratto. And I was not only not permitted to be present, I was also not informed of what was said.”

Nick smiled, looking squarely at the judge, watching him squirm, and enjoying every minute of it.

“Your objection is noted, Mr. Asher.” Barnes picked up the phone and barked into it. “Mary, get me the court reporter. Mr. Asher wants to put an objection on the record. And tell the bailiff to bring in the defendant, Dr. Manin.”

“Look, I love you, but you’re asking the impossible. I can’t just bury the Lopez file. What’s in this list may be bullshit, but I have to investigate it. Now. We’re talking very serious allegations. This list represents fraudulent cases, set-up accidents. Cases where people were intentionally injured, even murdered in order to present phony claims to insurance companies. They represent millions of dollars paid out on false claims. And allegedly one of them is on trial right now.” Muriel Gates paced heavily between the wide, naked windows of her office. She occasionally looked below onto Arch Street, wishing she could just fly out and disappear into traffic. She needed a cigarette, but instead she gnawed on a plastic replica. She’d be damned if she’d start smoking again; not after six months of cold turkey and fifteen pounds of extra flab she didn’t need.

“We’re talking allegations of assault and battery and murder in order to produce lucrative cases. We’re talking sending runners, ambulance chasers, to sign up grieving families after their loved ones were badly injured or killed. We’re talking insurance fraud, bank fraud, mail fraud, gross violations of the Rules of Professional Conduct. The potential penalties here are life in prison, or possibly the death penalty, for several people we know. I can’t walk away from this. I can’t withhold this from the proper authorities: from the attorney general, from the U.S. attorney, or Mike Rosa. It’s my head, too, remember. I clawed my way up to the top in this office, fighting every prick along the way.”

“What? Are you kidding?” Margo interjected sarcastically, sitting back against the worn, brocade love seat. “You’re the ultimate authority here. You’re the district attorney. You make the decisions as to what to investigate and what to trash. A DA has ultimate discretion as to what to prosecute and what to drop. You’re in command—aren’t you, Muriel?

“Please,” Margo said, lowering her voice to an almost inaudible level. “Do it for me, if not for the firm that put you in office. You see, if they go down, if Marty and Harry go to jail, it’s going to make things very difficult for me. My life will be an open book, and…” She paused for a moment. “And so will yours.”

Gates walked to her desk and picked up the tan manila folder, holding it up. “Withholding information contained in this thin little file could put me in prison for more years than I care to contemplate…and none of the inmates are going to be as pretty as you.”

Margo sprang to her feet and started toward the door.

“Where the hell are you going?”

“I’m going to give the good news to Marty and Harry. They’re at the Riley trial right now. You don’t expect me not to warn them, do you? I think it’s only fair. After all, I’m sure there’s a lot they have to say. The media’s already there in droves, waiting for any tidbit of information. Why not throw them a bone?” she cried, tears streaming down her pretty face.

Gates moved her ample frame in front of the door, blocking Margo’s exit.

“I’m sorry.” Margo stared innocently up into the DA’s steel gray eyes, angry eyes the color of a stormy sea.

“I don’t like being threatened. Nor do I like blackmail— especially when I’m the intended victim.”

“Muriel, I’m just saying these guys won’t go down without a fight.”

“Look, Margo. If there’s nothing to their story—if these arrogant little pissant kids just want to aggrandize their mother’s death to make it more than just a street crime, we’ll find out.
I’m
not going to go public with this right now.”