Andrew Price - Without A Hitch

“Can you get that evidence suppressed?”

“I don’t see how,” Beckett responded doubtfully.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to cut you off. You were talking about the investigation.”

“Right. The serious cops go further. They interview girlfriends, neighbors, and family members to see if you bought anything big with cash. Of course, car dealers, banks, and sellers of certain other high price items are required to report cash purchases. I’ve seen those reports show up in some cases, especially where a RICO is alleged.”

Corbin nodded.

Becket continued. “The real trick is getting the money into a bank so you can use it. I’ve seen guys claim drug money as gambling winnings. That worked for small amounts, but not enough for our purposes.”

Corbin chuckled. “You don’t know how right you are.”

“What?”

“We did some credit calculations based on our search of property records, and we’re coming in about five times the original estimate.” Corbin chose not to tell Beckett about the credit checks Alvarez ran.

“Are you serious?!”

“It’s a rough estimate, but it should be accurate. So think bigger ! What have you seen on that scale that might help us?”

“The most common approach for laundering large amounts is to form a front company. You open some business that deals in cash and then fold the illegal money into the legal money. Cash businesses are hard to audit. That’s why the drug guys buy laundromats and pool halls. The only time they run into trouble is when they try to launder large sums at once, or if the Feds stake out the place and do a business volume audit. You know, lots of profit, but no customers.”

“A pool hall? I’m not thrilled with the idea of running a pool hall.”

“Wait a minute!” Beckett clapped his hands together. “A couple years back, our office represented this guy who managed to launder millions of dollars in a year. He did it by setting up an art gallery. Everyone in the office was talking about it. It was brilliant. . allegedly that is.”

“Of course.” Both friends laughed.

“The reason his scheme worked so well is art has subjective value. How do you prove some piece of crud modern art isn’t worth five grand? He just mixed in his fakes with some real pieces and no one could say what he really sold and what he didn’t. The prosecutor couldn’t lay a finger on him.”

“Intriguing,” Corbin said.

“We had copies of everything he did, articles of incorporation, licenses, appraisal sheets, sales receipts, you name it. When I go back to my old office in June, I’ll dig up the file and get you a copy. We can set something like that up during the six months we wait before we touch the money.”

“All right, get me the file.”

“Say, what was your plan?” Beckett asked.

“It was more complex. I prefer this one.”

“What are you reading, Alex?” Theresa sat in her usual spot on Corbin’s desk. Today she wore glasses, not her usual contacts.

“It’s a book Molly gave me.”

“She can read? Will wonders never cease!”

Corbin ignored Theresa’s slur. “It’s called Wrongful Death . It’s about a medical malpractice case that goes wrong. It’s rumored to be a real story disguised as fiction, but I don’t know. It seems kind of far-fetched.”

“Is it any good?”

“It’s ok,” Corbin set the book down. “What do you think about art?”

Theresa frowned. “I know what I like?”

“What about modern art?” Behind Theresa, Beckett almost fell out of his chair.

“I know it when I see it.”

Corbin smiled at the reference to a famous Supreme Court case defining pornography. “So does the Supreme Court.”

“I’m pretty sure they weren’t talking about modern art.”

“You might be right,” Corbin chuckled. “So you don’t know much about it then?” Corbin saw Beckett frantically signaling him to change topics.

Theresa shook her head. “No, why?”

“Just curious. I’ve seen some interesting stuff lately, and I wanted to learn more about it. I just thought you might know something.”

“That’s an interesting insight into the life of Alexander Corbin,” Theresa purred. “What else do you do when you’re not in the office?”

“I don’t know, a little of this, a little of that.” Corbin smiled slyly at Beckett before continuing. “I spent last night making a ton of fake documents.”

Beckett’s eyes shot open and his jaw dropped.

Theresa laughed. “Sure! What’s this bar I keep hearing about?”

“Ah, my fame precedes me. I play guitar at a local bar on Fridays. Sometimes I play during the week too.”

“You should have told me!” Theresa exclaimed.

Corbin smiled, but said nothing.

“Well?! Are you going to invite us to come hear you play?” Theresa’s head bobbed vigorously as she spoke. She routinely did this to suggest the appropriate response to her questions, and woe betide the conversationalist who ignored her suggestions. Corbin and Beckett often debated whether or not Theresa knew that she imparted these “gesticular admonitions,” but they didn’t want to risk asking.

“You’re welcome anytime, Theresa.”

Theresa considered Corbin’s invitation before responding in a suggestive tone. “You know, I just might take you up on that.” Her face instantly turned red, and she changed the topic. “Oh, I forgot to tell you, Kak assigned me to write Wilson’s speech for the conference.” Contempt permeated her words.

“Can’t Wilson write his own speeches?” Beckett asked with equal contempt.

Theresa smirked at Beckett. “Are you kidding? He Peter-Principled out three jobs ago. I’d be amazed if he could even tell you his own job description.” Theresa turned back to Corbin. “Frankly, I’m a little surprised Kak didn’t ask you, Alex. Weren’t you a speechwriter for that guy, the Democrat from somewhere?”

“Only for a year, while I was in college.”

Beckett, who was not a Democrat, booed from across the room.

Theresa ignored him. “Kak should have you write the damn thing. I don’t want to do it, that’s for sure.”

“I’d be happy to help you with it.”

“That’s probably what Kak was trying to prevent,” Beckett chimed in.

“What do you mean?” Theresa asked.

“Kak’s afraid Corbin will make a fool of Wilson.”

“I’m hurt. Would I do something like that?” Corbin asked with mock innocence.

Theresa and Beckett looked at each, but left the question unanswered.

Theresa continued. “Well, you’re welcome to help out if you want, or write the whole thing if you want. I really don’t care, and Kak never told me not to talk to you about it. It’s his own fault if he doesn’t check it before he reads it.”

“Ok, show me what you’ve got.”

“I haven’t got anything, yet. Give me some tips and I’ll start something. You can take it from there. That way at least I can say I wrote the original draft.”

“Speech writing is an art,” Corbin reflected. “You need to craft each sentence carefully, word by word, to convey the meaning efficiently and beautifully. You need to create a tempo, build to crescendos. The listener should be held in suspense, waiting for the next word, but once the word arrives, the listener should feel as though that word was inevitable.”

“How about something more practical?” Theresa asked.

“First rule, keep it simple. Always avoid long, complex sentences. They’re difficult to read and more difficult to follow. Watch out for ambiguities. Many words, like ‘notwithstanding’ can have multiple meanings depending on how you use them.”

“I use notwithstanding all the time,” Beckett offered.