Joel Goldman - Final judgment

Mason’s plan relied on simplicity, deception, and surprise. If Vince Bongiovanni had done his part, Carol Hill would have by now called Lila Collins and invited her to the suite to talk about settling her case. The ruse would get him private face time with Lila and he would dazzle her with his charm and clever cross-examination. She’d melt at his feet and spill her guts-or not. Still, it was a simple plan and he was working on the fly.

The instant he opened the door the man who had decked Mark Hill outside the bar in Fairfax belted him in the stomach. Mason had a split second of recognition before he lost his breath and his legs. The man grabbed him by the throat, forcing him to backpedal into the living room, where he dropped Mason onto the sofa. Still doubled over, Mason glanced up as another man swept through the suite before joining his partner. Mason recognized him as the passenger in the car Hill had sideswiped. They hoisted Mason to his feet, frisked him, pulling his shirt out and grabbing his wallet.

“He’s clean-no weapons, no wires,” the first one said, tossing Mason’s wallet to a woman who had materialized behind them.

“He’s alone,” the other one said.

“Wait outside,” the woman told them.

Mason took a few tentative steps, letting the spasm in his gut subside and rubbing his throat until he could walk upright and breathe at the same time. The woman studied his driver’s license before throwing his wallet back to him. He caught it, circled her, and retrieved a bottle of water from the bar.

Her midnight-black hair was cut short, her spiked bristles better suited for someone twenty years younger. She had olive skin, heavily made-up dark eyes, and a mouth pulled back in a barely amused smile. Her thin body was taut like a switchblade, ready to snap open at a feather touch. She was wearing body-hugging black slacks and a matching long-sleeved top that clung to her spare frame, sharpening her hard edges.

“What do you want, Mr. Mason?” she said.

“I want to talk to Lila Collins. Let me know when she gets here.”

She raised her hands from her hips, palms up. “That’s me,” she said as she retrieved an employee identification badge from her pants pocket, holding it up for him. The photograph and the name matched.

“Why the warm welcome?”

“I was being careful. You tried to set me up.”

Mason tucked his shirt in. “Should have worked.”

She smiled. “Carol Hill and Vince Bongiovanni would burn us down if they thought they could get away with it. They wouldn’t negotiate a settlement and they forced us to go through arbitration. Now, while we’re waiting for the judge to decide her case, she calls and says she wants to meet with me-no lawyers-to kiss and make up. Look at me, Mason. Do I look like someone who would fall for that?”

“I didn’t know what you looked like. It’s a casino. I took a chance.”

“And you shot craps. Bongiovanni may have inherited this suite, but he and everyone who uses it still have to check in. After Carol called, I checked with the hotel to make certain she was still registered. The desk clerk said she left last night and that Bongiovanni had called to say that you would be using it this afternoon.”

“Those two guys,” Mason said, rubbing his belly. “They do sensitivity training for your employees?”

“They do what they’re told, which includes waiting for me to tell them when and how far to throw you out.”

“Sit down,” Mason said, gesturing to a chair as he sat on the sofa. “Don’t be in such a hurry. What do you know about me?”

It was an open-ended question. He wanted to see where she would start.

She sat across from him. “What I read in the papers and watch on TV, plus what the police have told me.”

“Flatter me.

She laughed. “It’s nothing to brag about. You’re a lawyer defending that guy, what’s his name? Fish? What kind of a name is that?”

“The kind his parents gave him.”

“Then tell him to change his name. People do it all the time.”

She was keeping it light now, throwing him curves or clues with her crack about people changing their names.

“You run into that a lot? People changing their names?”

“I’m in human resources. I check references for a living. Some people make up their entire lives.”

He remembered Bongiovanni’s astonishment at the ease with which Mason had gotten detailed references from Rockley’s former employers. Lari Prillman had had similar success with Keegan’s. He made a mental note to ask Lila if she’d checked Rockley’s and Keegan’s references, saving the topic for later.

“What else do you know about me?”

“I know that lately when one of our employees dies, your name comes up.”

“You mean every time one of your employees is murdered, my name comes up. I assume that some of them do die of natural causes.”

“Not in the last week,” she said. “Charles Rockley was found in the trunk of your client’s car and Johnny Keegan was trying to get ahold of you when he was killed.”

The story about Rockley had been all over the news. The bit about him and Keegan hadn’t been reported. He wondered how she knew. His surprise must have registered on his face. She recovered quickly.

“The police said something about Johnny having your phone number. They asked me if he had hired you. I told them I didn’t know.”

Mason added her use of Keegan’s first name to her list of casual admissions. “How well did you know Johnny?”

She shrugged, forcing nonchalance. “I try to get to know all our associates. Johnny was a nice guy, worked hard, did a good job.”

Keegan’s affair with Carol Hill wouldn’t have earned him a merit raise. Lila had to have known.

“Did that include sleeping with Carol Hill?”

She stiffened. “I don’t know what your arrangement is with Bongiovanni, but I’m not going to give him another club to beat us over the head with by talking to you about Carol’s lawsuit.”

“You didn’t have to come here to tell me that. You could have called Carol and cancelled the meeting. Why didn’t you?”

“I wanted to know who was using the suite.”

Mason shook his head. “I don’t think so. You recognized my name when you got it from the desk clerk, and you knew you weren’t going to talk to me about Carol’s case. So why did you come, and why did you bring the Gold Dust Twins with you?”

“It’s my job to know what’s going on with my employees. You went to a lot of trouble to get me here instead of calling me on the phone for an appointment. I wanted to know why, but I wanted to make certain it was safe to find out.”

Her explanation was reasonable and, more importantly, it was all she was going to tell him at the moment. She wasn’t under oath and she didn’t trust him. If he pressed her too hard, she’d whistle for her attack dogs. He’d have to take what she gave him, hoping to box her in. He decided to verify what Bongiovanni had told him before he drilled down to the critical questions.

“I want to talk about something I don’t think you’d want to discuss at your office or over the phone. I met Vince Bongiovanni through my investigation of Charles Rockley’s murder. He told me about this suite. I asked him to set up this meeting. It was the only way I could think of on short notice to speak with you privately and safely.”

“Why would Bongiovanni help you?”

“Because I promised to tell him everything I found out about Carol Hill’s case.”

“Did you really think I would talk to you about that?”

Mason smiled. “Not a chance, but I can’t help what Vince might have thought.”

Her bony shoulders relaxed and she chuckled for an instant. “Lawyers screwing lawyers. I like that. Okay, what’s so secret that you had to play spy games with me?”