Joel Goldman - Final judgment

Ancient history, he told himself, though Kelly had been right when she said there was no such thing as ancient history, if the phrase was supposed to mean that the past was dead and buried. Life was much more of a loop, colliding with the past, than it was a straight line running away from it.

Bongiovanni showed him into his private office, motioning him to a chair, taking the one opposite Mason, who declined his offer of an espresso. Wynton Marsalis’s Magic album was playing on the sound system, speakers and components invisible, riffs, rhythms, and melodies layered like a canopy above them. A CD case lay on the table. Mason couldn’t tell if it was for the music or something else, remembering the CD that had been stolen from Lari Prillman’s safe. Bongiovanni was using it as a coaster for his coffee cup.

“Might as well get down to it,” Bongiovanni said. “I need help with Charles Rockley.”

Rockley’s history as a sex offender would blow the lid off of Carol Hill’s case, especially if Galaxy knew about it, ending any doubts about Carol’s credibility and hoisting Galaxy onto the liability hook. Bongiovanni would smack Galaxy in its corporate face with that evidence. It would also put more pressure on Vanessa Carter to reopen the hearing before issuing her ruling. That realization was like twin screws on a vise around Mason’s neck. But it was all he had to give Bongiovanni. If he got a tape of his conversation with Ed Fiori in return, it might be worth the risk.

Mason nodded. “Maybe you should reconsider settling the case.”

“I told you before. We aren’t interested in anything but Judge Carter’s decision.”

Bongiovanni had described Carol’s case as a toss-up, yet neither of them would consider settling it. Mason’s information about Rockley would only harden their determination to make Galaxy suffer.

Bongiovanni picked up his coffee cup, giving Mason a good look at the CD case. Mason had boxed himself in. He had to give Bongiovanni something, and the truth about Rockley was all he had.

Bongiovanni tapped a corner of the CD case on the table in a failed effort to match the beat of the music. Mason winced, each tap like a needle piercing his skin. He bit his tongue to keep from licking his lips, unable to take his eyes off the CD, desperate to know if he was on it, his past about to collide with his present.

“You all right?” Bongiovanni asked. “You look like you’ve got the DTs.”

Mason forced a smile. “Late night, early morning. I’d like to get a look at what you found in Ed Fiori’s office.”

“You keep telling me that and I keep wondering why. It couldn’t involve Carol’s case since Ed has been dead for three years and she’s only worked at Galaxy for a little over a year. So it has to be something personal to you. I did Ed’s legal work or farmed it out so I know he never retained you. Which means your business with him wasn’t of the sort you normally did. How am I doing so far?”

“I’m not a jury. You don’t have to convince me.”

Bongiovanni smiled. “Uncle Ed was an interesting guy. Some days he was good and other days he was bad. He liked to play around the edges. That must be where the two of you did some business-around the edges, I mean. Whatever it was, you figured it died with Ed, but you couldn’t be sure and you’ve spent all this time waiting for the other shoe to drop. This case comes along and gives you the chance to trade some information for peace of mind. That about it?”

“What difference does it make?”

“Makes all the difference. Peace of mind doesn’t come cheap. I hope you’ve got something worth it.”

Kelly Holt had made the connection between him and Ed Fiori, though she hadn’t filled in all the gaps. It wouldn’t be long before she found her way to Judge Carter. Bongiovanni had a completely different piece of the story. If he sensed it would help him in his private war against Galaxy, he’d keep pushing until he too found his way to Judge Carter and the blackmail scheme.

He had to beat both of them to the finish. He felt like he was being chased by a pack of dogs and was throwing fresh meat over his shoulder to spur them on. He took a deep breath and tossed Bongiovanni another morsel.

“Charles Rockley’s real name was Tommy Corcoran. He had a record for sexual assault. If you can prove Galaxy knew that, you could end up with the casino and the rest of the hotel.”

Bongiovanni whistled. “Brother, you do deliver the groceries. How do I prove that?”

“Subpoena his records from the FBI.”

“I’ll need a witness to testify.”

“Forget about the witness. Go to Lari Prillman. She’ll convince Galaxy to settle. You can call a press conference, declare victory, and embarrass the hell out of them.”

“Look around you, man! You think I give a shit about splitting another fee fifty-fifty with Uncle Sam? When Ed was killed, he was in debt up to his eyeballs. Those bastards at Galaxy bought the loans on the casino and the hotel before Ed was in the ground. Then they foreclosed. I tried to pay off the loans, but they wanted the properties, not the money. My aunt was left with nothing. I sued them and lost. I told my aunt I would take care of her, but she was ashamed to take money from me. She stroked out a few months later and will spend the rest of her life in a nursing home drooling into a cup tied under her chin. So I’m not going to send them a fucking settlement offer. I’m going to send them a subpoena.”

Mason began to reach for the CD but pulled back when Bongiovanni picked it up and walked to a cabinet next to the bar. He pressed the cabinet door and it popped open revealing his sound system. He removed the Wynton Marsalis disk and inserted the unmarked one. It was Eric Clapton singing a blues number that matched Mason’s mood. Bongiovanni turned to him, grinning wide.

“Ed’s office was wired for sound. He had a button under his desk he pushed when he wanted to activate it,” he told Mason. “I told him to get rid of it, reminded him what happened to Nixon. But it made him feel like one of the big boys. Wouldn’t give it up, but I guess he finally took my advice.”

“How do you know?”

“Like I told you before, I got to Ed’s office as soon as I could after he was killed. I went through everything.”

“Were you alone?”

“Just me and Ed’s secretary. She was the one who really knew where everything was and she helped me collect all his stuff, including the tapes. I took the tapes home and listened to them. I sue a lot of powerful companies and people. Some of them take it personally. A few of them threaten me. I transferred the tapes to CDs just in case I might need them one day to level the playing field. I went back through them yesterday and you aren’t on any of them. The last tape was made a week before Ed died. According to the newspaper stories, you would have been there during that last week. Whatever went down between the two of you stayed between the two of you.”

Mason knew that was supposed to make him feel better, but it didn’t. “What happened to Fiori’s secretary?”

“She landed on her feet. Galaxy hired her and she ended up as their HR director. Her name is Lila Collins. The world is round, huh?”

The world may be round, Mason thought as he drove back to his office, but so were bullets and he felt like he’d just taken a slug between the eyes. There was absolutely no reason to think that Ed Fiori had lost interest in his surreptitious taping system at the same time Mason had shown up asking for an off-the-books favor.

Lila Collins was the link between Ed Fiori and Al Webb; between Mason strong-arming Vanessa Carter to release Blues on bail and the blackmail net that had dropped on both of them.