The Partner (Page 54)

His second day passed slowly. Eva was too wise to rush into their trap. One day soon this would make sense. He could wait as long as they could.

HIS HONOR brought the pizza with him on the second night. He had enjoyed the first so much, he had called Patrick during the afternoon to see if they could do it again. Patrick was anxious for company.

Huskey reached into a small briefcase and withdrew a stack of envelopes which he tossed on Lawyer Lani-gan’s worktable. "A lot of people want to say hello, mostly the courthouse gang. I told them they could write."

"I didn’t realize I had so many friends."

"You don’t. These are bored office workers with plenty of time to write letters. It’s as close as they can get to the action."

"Gee thanks."

Huskey pulled a chair close to Patrick’s bed and propped his feet on a drawer opened from the night table. Patrick had eaten almost two pieces of pizza and was now finished.

"I’ll have to recuse myself soon," Huskey said, almost apologetically.

"I know."

"I talked with Trussel this morning at length. I know you’re not crazy about him, but he is a good judge. He’s willing to take the case."

"I prefer Judge Lanks."

"Yes, but unfortunately, you don’t get your choice. Lanks is having trouble with his blood pressure, and we’ve tried to keep the big cases away from him. As you know, Trussel has more experience than Lanks and myself combined, especially in death penalty cases."

Patrick managed a slight flinch, a sudden squinting around the eyes, and a momentary sag of the bony shoulders when his friend finished the last sentence. A death penalty case. It seized him, as often happened when he dragged himself to the mirror for a long look. Huskey caught every tiny movement.

As they say, anybody is capable of murder, and Huskey had chatted with many killers during his twelve years as a judge. Patrick, however, just happened to be his first friend to face death row.

"Why are you leaving the bench?" Patrick asked.

"The usual reasons. I’m bored with it, and if I don’t quit now I’ll never be able to. Kids are getting closer to college, and I need to make more money." Huskey paused for a second, then asked, "Just curious, how did you know I was leaving the bench? It’s not something I’ve broadcast."

"Word gets around."

"To Brazil?"

"I had a spy, Karl."

"Someone here?"

"No. Of course not. I couldn’t run the risk of contacting anyone here."

"So it was someone down there?"

"Ifes, an attorney I met."

"And you told him everything?"

"Her. And yes, I told her everything."

Huskey tapped his fingers together and said, "I guess that makes sense."

"I highly recommend it, next time you’re down there disappearing."

"I’ll remember that. This attorney, where is she now?"

"Close by, I think."

"Now I see. She must be the one who has the money."

Patrick smiled, then chuckled. The ice was broken, finally. "What do you want to know about the money, Karl?"

"Everything. How’d you steal it? Where is it? How much is left?"

"What’s the best courthouse rumor you’ve heard about the money?"

"Oh, there are hundreds. My favorite is that you’ve doubled the money and buried it in vaults in Switzerland, that you were just passing time in Brazil and in a few more years you would leave and go play with your cash."

"Not bad."

"Remember Bobby Doak, that little pimple-faced weasel who does divorces for ninety-nine bucks and resents any lawyer who charges more?"

"Sure, advertises in church bulletins."

"That’s him. He was drinking coffee in the clerk’s office yesterday and telling how he had it from an inside source that you’d blown the money on drugs and teenaged prostitutes, and that was why you were living like a peasant in Brazil."

"That sounds like Doak."

The levity passed quickly as Patrick grew quiet. Huskey wasn’t about to lose the moment. "So where’s the money?"

"I can’t tell you, Karl."

"How much is left?"

"A ton."

"More than you stole?"

"More than I took, yes."

"How’d you do it?"

Patrick swung his feet from the other side of the bed, and walked to the door. It was closed. He stretched his back and legs, and took a drink from a bottle of water. Then he sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at KarL

"I got lucky," he said, almost in a whisper. But Karl heard every syllable.

"I was leaving, Karl, with or without the money. I knew the money was coming to the firm, and I had a plan to get it. But if that had fallen through, I was still leaving. I couldn’t take another day with Trudy. I hated my job, and I was about to get my throat cut at the firm anyway. Bogan and those boys were in the midst of a gigantic fraud, and I was the only person outside the firm who knew it."

"What fraud?"

"Aricia’s claim. We’ll talk about that later. So I slowly planned my escape, and I got lucky and got away. The luck followed me until two weeks ago. Incredible luck."

"We got as far as the burial."

"Right. I went back to the litde condo I had rented at Orange Beach. I stayed there a couple of days, indoors, listening to language tapes and memorizing Portuguese vocabulary. I also spent hours editing the conversations I had recorded around the office. There were a lot of documents to organize. I actually worked quite hard. At night, I walked the beach for hours, working up a sweat, trying to melt the pounds off as quickly as possible. I completely disassociated myself from food."

"What kind of documents?"

"The Aricia file. I ventured out in the sailboat. I knew the basics, and suddenly I was motivated to become a good sailor. The boat was big enough to live on for days at a time, and soon I was hiding out there on the water."

"Here?"

"Yes. I’d anchor close to Ship Island, and watch the shoreline of Biloxi."

"Why did you want to do that?"

"I had the office wired, Karl. Every phone, every desk, except for Bogan’s. I even had a mike in the men’s room on the first floor between Bogan’s office and Vitrano’s. The mikes transmitted to a hub I had hidden in the attic. It’s an old firm in an old building with a million old files stashed away in the attic. Nobody ever went up there. There was an old TV antenna attached to the chimney on top of the building, and I ran my wires through it. The receiver then transmitted to a ten-inch dish I had on the sailboat. This was high-tech, state-of-the-art stuff, Karl. I bought it on the black market in Rome, cost me a ton of money. With binoculars, I could see the chimney, and the signals were easy to collect. Every conversation within earshot of a mike was beamed to me on the sailboat. I recorded all of them, and did my editing at night. I knew where they were eating lunch and what moods their wives were in. I knew everything."

"That’s incredible."

"You should’ve heard them trying to sound serious after my funeral. On the phone, they took all these calls, all these condolences, and sounded so grave and proper. But among themselves, they joked about my death. It saved a nasty confrontation. Bogan had been elected to deliver the news to me that I was being booted from the firm. The day after the funeral he and Havarac drank Scotch in the conference room and laughed about how lucky I was to have died at such an opportune time."