Lisa Scottoline - Legal Tender

“Christ, I’m talking about a murder! Why don’t you try protecting and serving, for just one single minute? I won’t tell the other boys, I swear.”

“Don’t tell me I don’t do my job. I’m talkin’ about a murder, too! I’m talkin’ about a lady who would kill her boyfriend for twenty mil. That’s what I’m talking about, so excuse me if I don’t have time to take your crap.”

“It’s not crap. She could be a killer!” I shouted, but Azzic had already hung up.

An army of reporters swelled behind the police barricades outside, laying techno-siege to the townhouse. Grady and I ignored them, or tried to, and cleaned up the second-floor offices, excluding Mark’s, which had been taped closed. Not that I had the heart to go in there anyway. It was hard enough trying to function, but I had to see if I could salvage R amp; B.

None of the associates except Grady stuck around, and I didn’t blame them. I wondered how many would stay on now, assuming there was a firm at all. I drafted a letter to our clients explaining that their matters would be handled through this tragedy, and called to reassure them. Only thirty would even take the call, and some had already been contacted by a detective they chose not to name. Most told me outright they were taking their legal business to a lawyer who wasn’t a murder suspect, and I couldn’t blame them, either. Between Detective Azzic and the press, I was becoming a pariah.

The calls I dreaded most were to the drug companies Mark represented. I’d called Kurt Williamson and Dr. Haupt at Wellroth Chemical all day, but didn’t reach them. I dictated a request for a postponement of the Wellroth trial, then tried Haupt one last time at the end of the day after his secretary had gone.

“Ms. Rosato,” Dr. Haupt said, in a tone as distant as I expected. “I’m surprised to be hearing from you.”

“I left several messages.”

“I saw them, but I didn’t feel it was appropriate to return the calls. I understand that you have been charged with murder,” he said, in his stilted accent.

“No, that’s not true. I haven’t been charged with murder, and I certainly didn’t kill Mark. I want you to know that.”

“I don’t wish to discuss this with you, Ms. Rosato. I find this situation rather… horrifying. We saw Mark only yesterday. He was more than a lawyer to me, he was a friend.”

“I realize that. The purpose of this call is to tell you I’ve prepared a request for an indefinite postponement of the Cetor patent trial. I’d like to file it, with your permission.”

“We don’t wish to postpone the trial indefinitely, Ms. Rosato.”

“I’m afraid there’s no other choice. I’m not in a position to try the case.”

He cleared his throat. “Ms. Eberlein is fully prepared to go forward with the trial. We wish it to go forward, so that it concludes sooner. She has already asked the judge for a one-week postponement, and he agreed, in view of the circumstances.”

“What? How do you know this?”

“I have spoken with Ms. Eberlein by telephone. She is at home. Very upset, understandably, but as soon as she is feeling better we’ll go forward with her. Now I really must go. Please do not call me or Kurt again.”

“But Dr. Haupt-” I said, then the line went dead. I hung up slowly. Eve, trying the case herself? I was trying to process the information when the door to my office burst open. It was Grady, his print tie flopped over the shoulder of a blue oxford shirt. His eyes were bright with excitement behind his wire rims and he carried law books, legal pads, and photocopies.

“Look at this,” he said, shoveling papers over the desk at me. “It’s the will, Mark’s will.”

“How’d you get it?”

“The police, along with a real thin file. That’s all the information they would give us so far. But look at the will! Do you know who Mark named as his executor?”

“Who?” I thumbed through the pages, looking for the answer, and found it at the same time Grady said:

“Sam Freminet.”

I skimmed the provision, which looked standard. “So?”

“So! As executor, Sam gets two percent of the estate as a fee. He also has the power to choose the lawyers for the estate, and he can choose himself. This way, he gets the lawyers’ fees on top of the executor’s fees, also two percent, which can start right away if he wants them to. The topper is that the will sets up a trust naming Sam as trustee, so he also takes a trustee’s fee, one percent a year for life. It’s like an annuity. He’ll never have to work again.”

“I’m confused.” Half of me was still thinking about my conversation with Dr. Haupt.

Grady stood over me impatiently. “Considering the size of the estate, that means Sam makes a million dollars in fees, and the trustee’s fee goes on and on. It’s double, even triple-dipping, and he also gets the billings as the responsible attorney at Grun. You don’t think he’ll see some kind of bonus for bringing in an estate of this size?”

“And?”

“Bennie, aren’t you following me?” Two lines furrowed Grady’s usually mild brow. “Sam gets rich from Mark’s death. Does that say something to you about motive?”

“That’s absurd, Grady!” I felt angry, insulted for Sam. “That’s just absurd.”

“Is it? Please be objective. I don’t know Sam Freminet, only met him the one time, but money is a very powerful incentive.”

“Sam kill Mark?” I shook my head. “No way. Sam and Mark were friends. We all started at Grun together out of law school. Besides, Sam doesn’t need the money or the billings. He’s a partner at Grun, he probably makes over four hundred grand a year.”

“Do you know that for a fact? How’s his client list, do you know?”

“Sam’s a bankruptcy lawyer and everybody’s going bankrupt. I have to believe he gets his share of business.”

“You believe, but do you know? What about his bank account? Rich people are greedy. It’s the nature of the beast.”

“Come on, Grady, Sam has all the toys he needs. Literally.” I smiled, thinking of the stuffed Tasmanian Devil and Pepe Le Pew. Then I remembered Daffy Duck and his moneybags and stopped smiling.

“Bennie, think about it.” Grady unloaded his books and leaned on my desk, bracing himself on his arms. “Sam knew about Mark’s will, apparently he was the only person who did. You say you three were friends, but I get the impression Sam had more of a business relationship with Mark, but more of a personal relationship with you. Is that right?”

“Yes, I guess, since the breakup.”

“Could Sam have killed Mark to get back at him for leaving you? And make a bundle in the bargain?”

“It’s unthinkable!” I leaned back in my chair. “Sam Freminet is the gentlest soul in the universe. You don’t know him. Forget it. Nice try, lousy theory.”

Grady cocked his head. “Did you tell Sam that Mark wanted to break up R amp; B?”

“You mean after Mark told me? I went right to the river.”

“Do you know where Sam was that night?”

“I never know where he is at night. He goes out a lot.”

Then I thought of my meeting with Sam that day, in his office. “But he told me he heard some of our associates were leaving. Did you know anything about that?”

“Just that Wingate’s been grumbling, but you could see that. Do you think Mark told Sam he was going to break up R amp; B?”

“No. Sam would have told me.”

“Would he? He didn’t tell you about the will and he didn’t tell you he was Mark’s executor. Maybe you don’t know as much as you think about him.”

“I know enough to know that this is crazy, this whole discussion.”