Motion to Kill

CHAPTER FORTY

Mason walked into the conference room in time to see Scott fidgeting with a stack of papers, stopping long enough to glare at Sandra from Sullivan’s old chair while she smirked back from Harlan’s former seat. None of the partners would look at him. Scott cleared his throat and began the meeting.

“I received a very disturbing call from Victor O’Malley last night. He’s fired us because of the way Lou handled the grand jury subpoena.” He spoke with real regret, underscoring with understatement the gravity of their situation.

“Bullshit!” Mason said, slamming his palm on the table. “He fired us because he didn’t want to tell me how he hung us out to dry for St. John. We’re better off without him anyway. Now we can concentrate on our own defense.”

“Lou, you’re dead wrong,” Scott said. “I trusted you with this job out of friendship. I tried to warn you-told you to leave O’Malley to me. But you wouldn’t listen. You had to do it your way. Now the firm’s existence is in jeopardy.”

“Come on, it’s not that bad.”

“You haven’t been here long enough to understand the relationship with O’Malley. Everyone here except you and Sandra grew up with this firm. We’ve never had a problem like this.”

“The two senior partners have never been killed in the same week either. O’Malley isn’t blaming me for that too, is he?”

“That’s part of your problem, Lou. You think that a few wisecracks will solve everything. The rest of us don’t find any humor in losing our practice because the new kid on the block turned out to be a loose cannon.”

“Look, we were going to have to dump O’Malley anyway. We’ve got a conflict of interest with him that even a Republican could recognize. Let’s move on and figure out what we’re going to do next.”

“We’ve done that already. This wouldn’t have happened if we were as close-knit as we used to be. We have to make changes if this firm is going to survive.”

The picture Scott was painting was finally coming into focus. Sandra and Mason were the only outsiders-the only partners who weren’t born into the firm after law school. They would be the sacrifices to O’Malley.

“Let me guess. You and the other partners had a meeting with O’Malley and he promised to keep the lights on for you if you canned Sandra and me. Don’t you remember our discussion Sunday night when I told you that I had decided to quit before Sullivan was murdered and you begged me to stay and save your sorry ass? Or did you forget that when you were convincing our loyal partners here that Sandra and I were the real problem?”

“I met with Victor last night. He didn’t promise anything. As for Sunday night-I should have let you quit then. Once you told me you’d lost your nerve in the courtroom, I should have known that there was no way you could handle something like this. I guess I thought I was doing you a favor-giving you another chance. But you blew it. I should have known you would.”

Scott had told the worst kind of lie-one that had a kernel of truth in Mason’s own admission that he had been ready to walk out on his partners; one that they were eager to believe; and one that he couldn’t disprove. It was cruel and effective. Mason knew that his close relationship with Scott sealed it for the rest of the partners, ensuring their sympathy for Scott as the friend Mason had let down. It was over. Sandra rose with Mason as he stood to leave.

“Leave your parking garage access cards on your desks,” Scott continued. “We’ll forward your final paychecks and refunded capital contributions as provided in the partnership agreement. Your personal belongings will be sent to your homes. I want you out of these offices now!”

Scott tried to pull it off as Sullivan would have; the secret meeting to line up the votes. Appeal to old loyalties. All topped off with a ruthless finish. But he had one problem that Sullivan never had. Scott was scared. There was more desperation than anger in his voice and more fear than threat in his eyes. Sandra had been silent throughout the coup, but her closing shot clearly hit the mark.

“It’s too bad really, Scott,” she began. “It was such a nice speech, and I’m certain you worked on it very hard. But you’re too late. You can’t stop what you’ve already started.”

Mason didn’t understand what she meant, but Scott did, clenching the edge of the conference table in a white-knuckled vise. Before he could answer, Angela Molina opened the conference room door, letting in a deputy sheriff.

“Which one of you is Scott Daniels?”

“I’m Daniels. What do you want?”

“These papers are for you, Mr. Daniels.”

He handed Scott an envelope with the seal of the Jackson County Circuit Court on it and left. Scott scanned the pages, losing color with each page before dropping them on the conference table. He walked out without another word.

Sandra picked up the papers and Mason read them with her. It was O’Malley’s lawsuit against the firm seeking half a million dollars for work the firm charged him for but didn’t do, plus fifty million dollars in punitive damages. The kicker was a court order appointing a temporary receiver to manage the firm’s affairs until a hearing could be held on July 28 to consider the appointment of a permanent receiver.

Mason stopped in his office and filled his briefcase with the reports Diane Farrell had prepared and his copies of the O’Malley billing records. He tossed in Sullivan’s X-rated DVDs and his Johnny Mathis CD as a reminder of happier times. Sandra met him at the elevator and they rode down together.

“Was Scott telling the truth?” she asked.

“About me wanting to quit?”

“All of it.”

“The truth is, I did tell Scott that I had decided to quit. I didn’t give him a reason, and I’m not certain I could explain it. That jury of our partners and peers wouldn’t have believed any reason except the one Scott gave them. So the rest doesn’t matter. What did you mean by your crack about Scott being too late?”

“Vic Jr. told me about the lawsuit at lunch today. And a few other tidbits.”

“All that over lunch? What did you order?”

“Room service.”

“Tell me you didn’t.”

She laughed. “Give me some credit. It was enough that Junior thought it possible.”

“And the tidbits?”

“He bragged about all the money he was making that his old man didn’t know about until he told him last week.”

“Did he tell you where the money was coming from?”

“That was on the menu tonight. But it looks like I’ve been dumped.”

Franklin St. John and Gene McNamara were waiting when the elevator opened.

“Well, Mr. Mason,” St. John said. “You’ll save me the trip upstairs. I’m sorry to hear about Harlan Christenson. He seemed one of the few decent people in your group.”

“I’m touched that you came all the way over to express your condolences.”

“Actually, I’ve got more important business. The federal court has frozen your firm’s assets to protect the taxpayers’ interests.”