Phillip Margolin - Supreme Justice

Woodruff didn’t answer, but Dana saw her fists clench hard enough to turn her knuckles white.

“There have been rumors from the start of the case about a quarter of a million dollars that John Finley was given to pay the crew and other expenses, but no one ever found that money.” Dana caught herself. “Correction, no one but you.”

Dana waited for a response. When there was none, she continued.

“Here’s what I think happened. Finley was wounded when he fled the ship. If he stopped to hide the money or the duffel bag, the kidnappers would have got him before he reached your condo. And he couldn’t stop, because he was wounded and needed medical help. But he couldn’t go to a hospital, and you were the only one he knew who could help him.

“You’ve told everyone that you didn’t know that Finley had hidden his duffel bag in your house on the evening he fled the China Sea. I don’t believe that. I think you found the bag when you were released from the hospital and took the money. Then you hid the duffel bag, but you didn’t hide it in your house. If you had, the police would have found it when they searched your place.

“The first time you were arrested, you knew you didn’t kill Finley and you were desperate to help Mary Garrett prove your innocence in any way she could, so you told her several names you claimed John Finley had mentioned. Those names were Orrin Hadley, Dennis Lang, and Larry Kester, the names in the false passports that were found in Finley’s duffel bag when his body was discovered.

“You couldn’t tell Garrett where you saw those names without admitting that you’d found the duffel bag and looked inside it. Once you admitted that, anyone looking for the money would know you’d stolen it. So you made up a story about overhearing Finley say the names.

“I think you believed that Finley had been killed by his kidnappers and that everyone connected with the money would believe the drug dealers or the CIA had the cash. But you couldn’t leave the money in your house. You had to hide it. So you went around Portland making deposits of less than ten thousand dollars in many banks, so they wouldn’t have to file reports with the government, which the banks must do for cash deposits in excess of ten thousand. That’s the money you used to finance your legal defense.

“Then you learned that Finley didn’t die, and you knew he’d show up eventually, looking for his money. And when he did, you killed him with the throw-down gun you stole from the evidence in the drug case. To cover yourself, you fired a shot from your service gun into the floor in the entryway so you could explain the shot your neighbor heard. How am I doing so far?”

Woodruff was staring at Dana with a look of pure hatred. Dana didn’t blame her.

“Unfortunately for you, the police made a match between the throw-down and the drug case and found your signature on the log, which made you the last person to handle the gun after the drug case was over. And you had the misfortune of having a nosy neighbor who saw Finley go into your condo on the evening you killed him.

“Then it got worse. Max Dietz figured out that you’d taken the missing money and tried to blackmail you with a threat to serve the subpoenas on the banks unless you gave him the quarter million you took from Finley. I think you killed him and buried him somewhere to protect yourself.”

“You don’t expect me to respond, do you?” Woodruff asked.

“You’re too smart for that.”

“All of what you’ve said is theory, anyway. You don’t have hard evidence to support any of it.”

“Not now, but I have an idea how I could get some. I’m betting that there are still accounts with amounts of less than ten thousand dollars that were opened in several banks around the time you were first accused of killing John Finley. If I’m wrong, there will still be bank records showing the deposits and withdrawals. I’m betting, post 9/11, getting the skinny on those accounts would be a snap for Homeland Security, the FBI, or the CIA. What do you think?”

“Do you plan to tell your theory to anyone?” Woodruff asked.

“No. I told you, I made Mary hire me so I wouldn’t have to get involved, but Monte Pike knows we were looking for something when Mary and I went through Dietz’s stuff. He’s supposed to be a genius. I guess we’ll find out real soon just how smart he is.”

Someone knocked on Brad’s office door. When he looked up, Ginny was standing in the doorway.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” he said. “Why aren’t you in the salt mine?”

Ginny sat down. Justice Moss had not hired another clerk yet, so Brad had the office to himself.

“Remember you told me that you didn’t think I’d get in trouble at the firm because I took pictures of the TA Enterprises file?” Ginny asked.

“Sure. Masterson’s dead, and that associate…”

“Greg McKenzie.”

“Right, McKenzie. He’s not going to open his mouth. If he wants to make partner, McKenzie will want everyone at Rankin Lusk to forget how tight he was with Masterson, so he’s not going to talk about the TA Enterprises file. I think you can forget about the CIA, hashish, and ninja assassins and go back to worrying about your billable hours.”

Ginny sighed. “I sort of miss the ninjas. They’re a lot nicer to deal with than the partners.”

She was quiet for a moment, and Brad could see that something was bothering her.

“I’m thinking of leaving Rankin Lusk,” Ginny said.

“What brought this on?”

“When you said that McKenzie would try to distance himself from Dennis Masterson and keep his mouth shut about my part in exposing the TA Enterprises file, you made a fatal error in your analysis. You assumed that Rankin Lusk is a caring, moral entity, when in fact it is a collection of sociopaths who are interested in one thing and one thing only, the bottom line. Dennis Masterson was the firm’s biggest rainmaker, and his death will cut into profits. Anyone who makes any attempt to expose a rainmaker is a villain in the eyes of the firm, even if it is clear that the rainmaker is a murdering swine. Anyway, I am being treated like a leper by almost everyone, and any support I’ve received has been whispered by people who look around nervously when they talk to me.”

Brad looked the woman he loved in the eye. “Do you want to be associated with the type of people you’ve just described, regardless of the money?”

Ginny smiled ruefully. “No. I’ve pretty much decided to quit, but we’re going to be hit pretty hard financially if I leave.”

“We will be poor but honest, like characters in a Dickens novel.”

“Oliver Twist didn’t have student loans.”

Brad smiled. “We’ll be OK, kiddo. Between Justice Moss and Justice Kineer, we have enough heavyweights on our side to get work. And this time, look for something you really want to do. Don’t just think about the money. This is your second job at a huge law firm, and they’ve both left you with a sour taste in your mouth.”

“Your term on the Court is more than halfway through. Have you given any thought to what you’d like to do?”

“I guess I do have to start thinking about next year. The government doesn’t pay that well, but the work is exciting. I’m thinking the Justice Department or a job in the Congress.”

Ginny sighed. “Now that I’ve decided to leave Rankin Lusk behind, I feel like a great weight has been lifted from my shoulders. And you know what else?”

“No, what?”

“I do think we’ll be OK.”

Monte Pike sat in one of the conference rooms in the district attorney’s office with his jacket off, his sleeves rolled up, and his feet propped on a corner of the long table that dominated the room. Pike had put the Woodruff case on the back burner while he waited to see what the Supreme Court did. He had plenty of other cases to keep him occupied, and the four months it had taken for the Court to reverse had helped him to come at the case with fresh eyes.