James Grippando - Found money

Norm had an early-morning hearing in criminal court and didn’t reach his office until midmorning. It seemed to have come as somewhat of a surprise to Ryan, but he actually did have other clients with other cases. Norm hung his suit coat behind the door. He was only halfway to his desk when his secretary appeared in the open doorway.

“Judge Novak’s chambers is on line one,” she said.

“Novak?”

“The judge in Dr. Duffy’s divorce case.”

What now? he thought, then picked up. “Hello.”

The judge’s deputy was on the line. “Mr. Klusmire, I have Phil Jackson on a conference call. Since Mr. Jackson’s injuries prevent him from coming to the courthouse in person, the judge has agreed to hold a telephonic hearing on his emergency motion to reschedule the deposition of Brent Langford. Please hold for the judge.”

Norm heard the click of the hold button. He and Jackson were alone. “Emergency motion? What kind of rescheduling you talking about?”

“If you knew anything about practice in family court, Klusmire, you’d know that the rules don’t allow us to take a deposition on a Saturday. I originally set Brent’s deposition for Thursday of next week, but I have to depose him tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“Because his depo could lead to evidence that your client is responsible for the injuries that put me in the hospital. If that proves to be the case, I need to get a restraining order issued as soon as possible to protect both me and my client from any further abuse at the hands of Dr. Duffy.”

“What in the world are you talking about?”

“It’s all in the papers I filed. Check your in box, chump.”

Norm hadn’t even checked the morning mail. He riffled through the pile, found an envelope from Jackson’s office, and tore it open. It took only a second to see what Jackson was really up to. The rescheduling of the deposition was secondary. His primary objective was simply to poison the judge’s mind with wild accusations against Ryan.

That son of a bitch.

The judge joined them on the line. “Good morning, gentlemen. I’ve read Mr. Jackson’s papers. Excellent, as usual. Mr. Klusmire, on what grounds are you opposing the motion?”

“Your Honor, if I could just have a minute to read through it. I haven’t really had a chance to consider it.”

Jackson jumped in. “Judge, the motion was hand-delivered to Mr. Klusmire’s office last night. It was plainly marked as urgent. In my cover letter I urged him to call me here at the hospital by 9:00 A.M. if he would agree to let me take the deposition on Saturday instead of Thursday of next week. I hate to burden the court with an emergency motion on a simple scheduling matter, but Mr. Klusmire never called me. I had no choice but to petition the court.”

The judge grumbled. “Mr. Klusmire, I’ve never met you, but this is the second time we’ve talked on the telephone. The first time was the other night when you called me at home, in direct violation of my rules against ex parte communications.”

“Judge, I swear I was paged by-”

“ Never interrupt me,” he said harshly. “I don’t like the way you practice, Mr. Klusmire. Good lawyers don’t call judges at home. And they don’t force other lawyers to seek emergency relief from the court where good old-fashioned courtesy and cooperation should enable the lawyers to work things out themselves.”

“That’s what I always say,” said Jackson.

“Now,” the judge continued, “I’ve read the affidavit Mr. Jackson submitted in support of his motion, and I must say I am deeply disturbed. If Dr. Duffy and his brother-in-law are in any way responsible for this attack against Mr. Jackson, I want to put a stop to this before somebody else gets hurt. The request to take the deposition of Brent Langford a few days early is entirely reasonable. In fact, if Mr. Jackson weren’t injured, I would dispense with the deposition and proceed directly with a hearing on whether a restraining order should be imposed against Dr. Duffy.”

“Judge,” said Jackson, “I’m feeling better already. If the court has room on its busy calendar for an evidentiary hearing, I owe it to my client to be there.”

“Are you sure you’re up for it? Physically?”

“Yes. It was a mild concussion. Believe it or not, having your face smashed against a windshield looks a lot worse than it is.”

The judge growled. “I can’t believe they did this to you. I rarely schedule a Saturday hearing, but in this case I’ll make an exception. Can you have your witnesses here at ten o’clock tomorrow?”

“I believe so.”

Norm said, “Your Honor, Dr. Duffy will certainly be there. But if Mr. Jackson intends to question Mr. Langford, I can’t guarantee he will attend. I have no control over him. He’s not a party and he’s not my client.”

“Mr. Klusmire, if you know what’s good for you, your client will make sure that his own brother-in-law is in my courtroom tomorrow morning. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you, Judge,” said Jackson.

“Good day, gentlemen.” The judge disconnected, leaving only the lawyers on the line.

Norm shook his head. “You’re everything people say you are, aren’t you, Jackson?”

His face hurt, but Jackson managed a smile. “Everything — and then some.”

“This hardball stuff really isn’t necessary.”

“But it is,” he said, his smile fading. “This isn’t the Liz and Ryan Duffy soap opera anymore. This is personal. I’ll see you in court.”

The wait was going on two and a half hours. Ryan took it as a good sign that he hadn’t been thrown out of the building yet. Even better, he hadn’t been thrown off it. He could wait all day, if he had to. The visitors’ lobby was certainly comfortable enough. The leather couches weren’t the stiff grade found in family rooms. These were as soft and supple as driving gloves.

Ryan had thought hard before coming directly to K &G headquarters. Last night, Amy’s reaction had convinced him of one thing. He couldn’t live with the money without knowing the truth. There was no honor in profit at the expense of a raped woman. He had to know how the rape was connected to the extortion.

Ryan’s father was dead. Amy’s mother was dead. The only living person who could possibly hold the answer was the man his father had blackmailed. Ryan couldn’t be a hundred percent sure that it was Joseph Kozelka, but Norm’s investigator had not identified a single other person in the Boulder High yearbook who had acquired the financial wherewithal to pay that much money. True, he and Norm had agreed they would talk to the FBI before moving on Kozelka. Waiting, however, would deprive Ryan of his leverage. The threat of going to the FBI and dropping Kozelka’s name seemed like the only way to get Kozelka to tell him if he in fact had paid the money to Frank Duffy — and more important, why.

He knew what Norm would say. It was risky, maybe even dangerous. Somehow, however, his father had managed to keep the scheme going and keep himself alive for some twenty years. Ryan would take those odds. Still, he couldn’t tell Norm in advance and give him the chance to talk him out of it. This time, Ryan was on his own.

“Dr. Duffy?”

It was a baritone voice from behind. Ryan rose from the couch and turned. The sheer size of the man suggested he was from corporate security.

“Yes,” said Ryan.

“Come with me.”

They walked side by side down the hall in silence. Ryan stood over six feet, but he felt small next to this guy. He was easily six-five and solidly built. Not like those upper-body freaks at the gym with Herculean chests and legs like Bambi. This man’s build was proportional, more athletic. Ryan suspected a military background.