The sun was blinding at that altitude and the air was warm.
A hatch of dragonflies flitted and droned across the knee-high grass in the meadow, along with an Egyptian pharaoh’s worth of grasshoppers, crazily jumping on the three visitors as they left the landing zone.
Hiking across the meadow toward the house, Thaddeus could see that Henry was wearing jeans, boots, and a flannel shirt, though it was warm even up at 9,000 feet. He had a checkered bandanna around his neck and new eyeglasses perched on his nose.
He looked to be in bright spirits as he smiled and waved for them to come in.
The men shook hands after Katy had hugged her great-grandfather for nearly a minute.
“C’mon in,” he told them. “Don’t be strangers. Now let me hold that baby!”
Henry took a seat on the day bed, arms outstretched, and Thaddeus nestled Sarai against his chest. The baby planted her feet against Henry’s legs and stood on her tiptoes. She flopped a wet hand against his craggy face. He turned and kissed her cheek.
“This is your solution,” he told the young couple. “This is the best it will ever be. Your age, new baby, income, no wars to go to, doting grandfather.”
They laughed.
Henry pulled the baby close and inhaled her baby fragrance. Delight came into his eyes and joy lifted his face.
“I’ve been wanting to catch up with this one,” he said. “Now I’m holding her and she’s almost a century younger than me. So much I could tell her, so little she cares to hear. But she will. I think I’ll stick around for that.”
“Of course you will, Grandfather,” Katy said. “Here, let me change her diaper before she springs a leak.”
Henry returned Sarai to Katy and clasped his hands on his knees, prepared to be the perfect host. “Water?”
“I’m good,” Thaddeus replied. “We keep water on the chopper.”
Katy immediately went over to the sink and began going through things. “What have you been eating, Grandfather” she asked.
Henry moved across the room and took a seat in the recliner. “Beef stew. Dinty Moore beef stew. It has everything: protein, vegetables, vitamins, gravy—”
“Funny boy,” she said. “Beef stew has exactly none of what you need.”
Henry shrugged. “It’s filling. I need that. And it comes ready to heat.”
Thaddeus took the baby from Katy and took the overstuffed chair with felt fabric. It was springy, but comfortable enough.
The baby began bouncing in his lap and he smiled. He would hold her every minute of every day, were that possible.
Katy stood before Henry. She jammed her hands against her hips, ready to get down to business, the real reason for the visit. “How are you feeling?”
He nodded. “All right. Something in my chest.”
“Does it hurt?”
He nodded again. “It does hurt, but only a little.”
“Are you coughing up anything?”
“I am.”
They discussed his health issues for several minutes. Thaddeus reviewed the cabin. In a flood of memories it all came back—the time he had lived there, the lawsuits he had filed, the woman he met while living in the mountains, the peace and solitude of watching over the grazing sheep, catching fish out of the rushing stream, all of it came back.
For a minute he could feel his eyes moisten as he realized just how much he loved the place. He wondered if his own life would ever be this peaceful. Probably not, he decided, and turned his attention back to Sarai.
Katy turned to him. “I think he needs to see a doctor.”
“We can make that happen.”
“Like stat. Right now, today.”
“Well, we’ve got wings and we’ve got a house doctor at the casino. Do we fly him back?”
“Absolutely.”
“What about the sheep?”
“Now hold on,” Henry said. He waved his ninety-eight-year-old hand at his great-granddaughter. “I can’t just leave my sheep here unattended. You know I won’t do that.”
Katy looked at Thaddeus.
He shrugged. “I’ll stay with them. You can ride with him back to the casino. Take Sarai in case the sheep need me. Seriously. We’ve got the helipad on the roof and I can call ahead and make sure Doctor Ralston meets you as soon as you touch down.”
She stared at Henry.
He finally nodded and spread his hands. “If you say so. It’s not that bad, though. I’ll be back tonight, Thad.”
“That’s fine. Everything’s under control back in Vegas. It would do me good to wait around out here while they look you over.”
Katy smiled at Thaddeus. She stooped down and gave him a wet kiss. “Thanks, buddy,” she said.
He handed her the baby, who took her assigned spot on mom’s hip.
“No problem. I’ll take care of things. What’s on the menu, Henry, in case I get hungry tonight and you don’t get back?”
“Two cases of beef stew under the sink.”
“Perfect. I’ll survive then. Go tell Jackson he’s flying you back to the Desert Riviera. I’ll call Doctor Ralston as soon as you’re gone.”
“What about it, Henry?” she said. “You up for this?”
“Do I have any choice?”
“Not really,” the couple said, and laughed.
“Let me get my hat then.”
Two minutes later they were out the door.
Thaddeus watched them disappear across the meadow and into the landing circle. Minutes later the helicopter fan jet screamed to life and he could hear the rotors begin turning, slowly at first, and then “Whop-whop-whop-whop-whop!”
Minutes later the machine lifted up from the ground, took a nose-down attitude in the air, and went skimming away across the up-stretched arms of the Ponderosa pines.
Thaddeus made the call to the casino on the satellite phone.
Mickey Herkemier came on the line and Thaddeus explained what was needed. Dr. Ralston would hustle Henry down to the hotel clinic and do a head-to-toe examination. The doc would call Thaddeus when he was done making his assessment.
Now what to do? he wondered.
He grabbed a bottle of water. He remembered Henry’s words from long ago, and smiled. “Remember, you must hydrate.” He decided to take a lawn chair in front of the cabin.
In less than five minutes the sound of the helicopter had faded away and they were gone.
With nothing else to do, Thaddeus started counting sheep.
The Getting Reacquainted Seminar he and Katy had attended last night, in their bedroom at the casino, had continued until half past three. He was exhausted but he’d never let her know that.
She, on the other hand, was amazing. At six a.m., Sarai had started babbling in her crib, walking up and down against the rail. Katy had bounced out of bed, retrieved the baby, and brought her into bed with them. She stuck a bottle in Sarai’s mouth and soon father and daughter were fast asleep. Which meant Katy could grab a few hours of study time before her world opened its eyes in the bedroom. She had lugged her book bag into Thaddeus’ office and spread her things on his desk.
* * *
Dr. Ralston called Thaddeus at four o’clock. He had seen Henry in the casino clinic. He had taken chest x-rays, drawn blood for blood work, put Henry through an extremely thorough physical exam, and talked with Henry—and Katy—at great length.
It was Dr. Ralston’s opinion that Henry had an upper respiratory infection, and he had started him on a ten-day course of antibiotics. He was to moderate his activity level, stay dry, and get plenty of sleep. Other than that, he was fit to return to a normal routine. Which for Henry meant up at dawn, work with the sheep all day, and fall asleep when the sun went down. While Thaddeus had outfitted the cabin with generators and electric wiring and outlets two years ago, Henry saw fit to rarely make use of the utility. He thought electricity unnecessary and preferred to cook over an LP burner, use a single lantern until bedtime, and avoid foods that required refrigeration, just as he
lived in the hogan when he was back down in the desert.
The helicopter flew overhead and set down in the clearing just after five. Thaddeus was in the process of herding the sheep into the corral for the night.
Katy waved, and Henry bent low under the helicopter prop wash, holding his Stetson on his head. They tramped across the meadow to the cabin.
“Welcome!” Thaddeus cried as he took Sarai and planted a huge kiss on her forehead. “I hear it went well.”
“Doctor Ralston called you?” Katy asked.
“He did. He’s an internal medicine specialist and I trust him implicitly. The best man in Vegas to see Henry.”
“He looked in every nook and cranny,” Henry laughed. “And gave me some green pills. Don’t know that I’ll take them though.”
Katy and Thaddeus halted in their tracks. “Yes, you will!” they cried and Henry got a devilish look in his eyes and congratulated himself for scaring them.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully. The pilot wrote emails on his tablet and read eBooks, Thaddeus and Katy fished while the baby took a nap with Henry close by, and seven small trout made it into the frying pan Saturday night.
That night Henry slept in his bed. Thaddeus, Katy, and Sarai slept on the fold-out couch, and the casino pilot slept beside the helicopter in a tent, on the cot and air mattress they had packed. Everyone ate Dinty Moore beef stew and went to bed happy.
They were up when the sun came up and Henry made coffee in the ancient percolator on the LP burner.
The smell of the coffee warmed the place considerably and everyone felt at home. It was going to be a great day and, when he had changed Sarai’s diaper, Thaddeus served coffee to all takers.
* * *
Just before they flew out noon Sunday, Katy listened to Henry’s chest with her stethoscope.
“He sounds better already,” she announced.
At 12:15 they lifted off for the flight back to Las Vegas.
The helicopter took them directly to McCarran Airfield, where Katy and Sarai said their goodbyes and climbed aboard the Learjet for the ride back to Palo Alto and school.
When they were gone, Thaddeus immediately felt alone and became more convinced than ever that it was time to do something about their situation. He had to admit, Katy was his choice, and there was no longer any doubt about that. He just couldn’t imagine a life without her. Their original coming together had been almost magical and he felt it was predestined, that in the grand scheme of things he was meant to be with her and she was meant to be with him.
It was time to get married, he finally admitted. And start living together.
Now to figure out how that all would work, with all the commitments they already had.
17
Langster Eugene Moretti was a fourth-generation Nevadan, a graduate of UNLV School of Law (Honors, Law Journal), held a CPA license in Nevada and California, and had worked mergers and acquisitions for four years at Morgan Stanley before returning to Las Vegas to take on the General Counsel role at the Desert Riviera Casino and Hotel.
He was thirty-five, thin and limber, and he preferred cross-country skiing around Reno to golf in Vegas.
He was unmarried but seriously involved with, of all people, his house cleaner, who was an undocumented worker from Ensenada.
His staff included nine attorneys, four of whom were dedicated solely to administrative law—mainly keeping up with the daily onslaught of records demands from the Nevada State Gaming Commission. And lately, of course, responding over and over to IRS requests for financial records. The others were liability lawyers whose sole duty was to handle claims and represent the company against such things as slip and fall cases, allegations of employee theft, workers compensation, claims the games or the slots were a cheat, and a raft of other legal activities that went on around the clock.
Lang Moretti was in his mahogany-paneled office on the seventh floor when Thaddeus called.
Andria buzzed him and said, “It’s your boss, Mister Moretti. Your real boss.”
His thick black unibrow shot upward in anticipation.
It was immediately worrisome and Moretti took a deep breath as he reached for the blinking button—worrisome because the guy was young, probably still learning to patty cake, and might blindly go around cutting people loose who he didn’t like.
Moretti was a good guy and people liked him and he thought he might survive any such general bloodletting, but you could never be sure. Not with someone under thirty who owned a casino, for god’s sakes.
“Please come to my office,” Thaddeus said. The message was curt and the tone ominous.
Moretti slipped into his coat, told Andria he was meeting with Thaddeus, and hurried to the elevator.
He punched 2 and drew a deep breath. It was always some emergency, he thought. Which in a way turned him on. He had always liked the ebb and flow of the casino’s legal affairs, almost like a living organism that attracted feeders and bloodsuckers as it went along day by day.
Moretti entered and took a seat beside Thaddeus’ desk.
“You need to be in on this,” he told Moretti. “You’re not going to believe who wants to talk.”
Thaddeus punched his phone and told security to bring up CID agents Kroc and Magence, whose cards had already been hand-delivered by floor security to Thaddeus when they first arrived.
“IRS,” he said, and rolled his eyes.
He gave the two cards to Lang Moretti, whose eyes widened.
“This is CID,” Moretti said gravely. “Let me do the talking.”
“Be my guest,” said Thaddeus.
A knock at the door and the two agents were escorted in.
Hands were shaken and cards exchanged, briefcases were opened and plunked down on the slate coffee table, and seating was arranged, the two agents side-by-side on the sofa nearest the door.
Kroc spoke slowly and with studied diction, like one speaking to non-English speakers.
“I’m Special Agent Aldous Kroc and this is Special Agent Mathilde Magence. We’re with the criminal investigation division of the IRS, Treasury Department, assigned to Las Vegas. Would you mind speaking with us a few minutes?”
Moretti said, “Who do you want to speak to, exactly? The hotel officials or Mister Murfee personally?”
“Mister Murfee,” said Kroc, who wet his lips and whose egg-eyes shone with anticipation.
“I can talk,” said Thaddeus. “Mister Moretti is my attorney and represents me both as the owner and personally. So what can we do for you?”
Kroc clasped a knee in his hands. “Well—”
Special Agent Magence smiled broadly and said, “We have a couple of questions about how your taxes are prepared. Can you tell us who does your returns?”
“My personal returns?”
“Yes.”
“The staff here at the casino. I can’t say any one person, exactly.”
Special Agent Magence said, “If memory serves, the returns for the last two years show they were prepared by a Dwayne Willard, CPA. Ring a bell?” She smiled and her eyes twinkled.
Thaddeus heard only bells going off and red flags going up.
Great smile or not, he didn’t trust her for a second.
“Dwayne Willard is a staff accountant,” Moretti replied.
“Does he still work here?”
“He does.”
Kroc broke in, “How are the returns prepared, by his review of your records or from summary sheets you give him?”
Lang Moretti raised a hand. “Hold up, please. This is beginning to sound like a civil tax audit. But you’re criminal investigators asking the questions. Is my client under investigation personally?”
Kroc nodded solemnly. “He is. Certain discrepancies have been brought to our attention.”
“Discrepancies such as what?”
Kroc shook his head violently. “Oh, we’re not at liberty to say. Definitely not at liberty to say. Our investigation is confidential and it is secret.”
Kroc looked at Magence, who only continued with the same smile she had worn into the office.
“It would be easier if you just answered some simple questions,” she said. “Then the whole thing might just go away.”
“I don’t think so,” said Moretti. “If there’s a criminal investigation then you can file charges and we’ll respond accordingly. But we’re not going to discuss anything further with you today.”
At which point Kroc reached inside the CPA briefcase he had lugged in with him.
He happily whipped out a stack of papers.
“Right here we have a criminal indictment for income tax evasion. Guess whose name is on it?”
He held it out and Moretti took it from him.
“When did you indict my client?”
“Friday,” Kroc beamed. “Ten o’clock Friday morning.”
“And you’re here asking questions?”
“Well, we have a warrant for his arrest. That’s at the bottom of your stack.”
“A warrant!”
Thaddeus felt his heart thump wildly. “What the hell? Are you serious?”
“Why haven’t you given us the chance to respond to any questions you might have had?”
Kroc leaned back and smiled, his egg-eyes glistening. “Oh, we have all the documents for that. We’re just here to settle a few remaining issues.”
“And take your client to jail,” said Magence, who had stopped smiling.
“Would you please stand and place your hands behind your back?” said Kroc. His smile said it all: he was enjoying this no end.
Thaddeus looked hard at Moretti, who gave a defeated nod.
The air went out of Thaddeus and he stood up from his desk and turned around.
Kroc boldly approached from behind, produced a silver set of handcuffs as if from thin air, and clamped them hard and tight around the exposed wrists.
“Shit!” said Thad. “Too damn tight.”
“It only gets worse,” said Kroc.
“Now please come along,” said Magence.
He rode along in the back seat of a black Crown Vic, leaning forward in the seat to avoid putting pressure on his hands and arms cuffed behind.
Attorney at Large (Thaddeus Murfee Legal Thriller Series Book 3) Page 8
