by Mike Farris
“Cops are on their way,” I said.
“All they’ll find is broken glass,” Steve McGinnis replied.
He flipped his car keys toward me in an underhand gesture. I let them bounce off my chest, then jangle to the street.
“Lose the bat,” he said.
I let it clatter to the street as well.
“Pick up the keys and get behind the wheel. You’re driving.”
“Where to?”
“Just pick up the keys and get in, or I’ll kill you right here.”
I studied his face, looking for signs of truth. I finally decided that I didn’t have any choice. The police couldn’t get there fast enough and I had to get him away from Meg.
I picked up the keys.
Chapter Fifty-Four
I was finally getting cold, driving a Mercedes with no glass in any of the windows, wearing nothing but gym shorts in the middle of a blustery December night with Steve McGinnis holding a gun on me. Steve—my buddy, my friend, my partner. What the hell had happened to him?
Blood dripped from a cut across my cheek. Steve wasn’t happy about the condition of his car and had slugged me in the face with the gun barrel.
I sat in broken glass, but got no sympathy from him. I buckled my seat belt, but he didn’t buckle his. He just held the gun on me and ordered me to drive. I obeyed, trying to plot an escape. I knew Meg would call the police, but she wouldn’t know to tell them to look for a black Mercedes. And she wouldn’t know which way we had gone. It was up to me to get myself out of this.
Instead of driving toward Dallas, as I expected, Steve told me to circle my neighborhood, then head into the countryside. I didn’t know how well he knew the area, if he already had a dumping site in mind, or if he was looking for a promising place. But I knew my time was limited.
“Don’t do this, Steve.”
He said nothing.
“Meg’s testifying tomorrow before the Grand Jury. Once she does that, the damage is done. So there’s really no point in going after her.”
Still no reply.
I drove in silence for a few minutes, passing fields I had often run through with Rufus during our morning exercise. I knew there were plenty of places where a body could be dumped and not found for years.
“When did it happen, Steve? When did you change?”
He looked at me, a mixture of fear and anger on his face. “I don’t like this any more than you do.”
“Oh, I think I like it a little less than you, don’t you think?” I paused. “Am I gonna commit suicide like Tripp? He couldn’t have found that clump of trees in Pleasant Grove if his life depended on it. And I guess it did, didn’t it? But, hell, that was our old stomping grounds.”
He looked away.
“He had a family, Steve. A wife and kids.”
“We all do.”
“She’s sick. She needs him.”
“He left her a helluva lot of life insurance,” he said. “We did her a favor.”
“‘We’…as in the government?”
“Shut up and drive.”
“Suicide cancels out life insurance. You at least know that much law, don’t you?”
“I said shut up and drive.”
We passed through a small town, no more than a wide spot in the road. A gas station and a mercantile store. No streetlights, just a floodlight at the gas station. I glanced in the rearview mirror. I thought I saw a car behind us but couldn’t be sure. If there was, it traveled with its headlights out. But I sure thought I saw something back there. As I occupied Steve with conversation, I kept an eye on the rearview mirror.
“Am I gonna commit suicide, too?” I asked. “After all, I know too much, don’t I?”
“You’ve been depressed lately. Lost your wife, nearly lost your law license, still might lose your job. Takes a toll on a man.”
“You’ll have to do it face to face this time. Not hiding in the shadows at the garage.”
He cut a sharp look my way, as if to say, “How did you know?”
“Tripp was a pro. Sixty-four combat kills. He wouldn’t have missed. That means it had to be someone else.”
Steve looked away again, unable to face me.
“You were his control, weren’t you?” I asked. “Did you ever really leave Military Intelligence?”
He refused to answer.
“What’s Lacewell Industries? After all, that’s your client. It’s sure got an awful lot of subsidiaries. Funny how Tripp always seemed to be able to schedule meetings for those subsidiaries all over the country.”
“It’s what good lawyers do.”
“Is it all just a front? CIA? NSA? Some letter combination I’ve never heard of? Is that why they never complained about hundreds of thousands of dollars in phony bills…because they got exactly what they paid for?”
He fell silent again.
“The only part I don’t understand is why Tripp inflated his bills on real clients. Wasn’t he making enough money without doing that? Why run the risk?”
“Do you have any idea how much experimental cancer treatments can cost when they’re not covered by insurance?”
“He was making seven figures.”
“He made some bad investments.” He snorted. “Hell, haven’t we all the past couple of years?”
“And when Meg started stirring things up, he had to do something on his own. So he got careless. That meant he had to go.”
“We had no choice. He went totally out of control. We never sanctioned anything on Meg.”
“Maybe the government had no choice, but you did, Steve. You just made the wrong one.”
Checking the mirror again, I saw that there was, indeed, a vehicle behind us—a sport utility vehicle. It looked a lot like my Jeep Cherokee.
If it was my Jeep, Meg was probably driving. And if Meg was driving, she had my cell phone. And if I knew Meg, she was on it with the police, leading them our way. If I could just hold on a little longer. I kept driving, checking the mirror periodically, but trying not to give anything away.
After a while, we were truly in the middle of nowhere. The moon was bright, the clouds sparse. Steve canvassed fields on either side of the road, most likely looking for clumps of trees in which to dump my body. Unfortunately, I knew we were approaching a wooded area that was bound to suit his fancy. I didn’t have much time left.
I lightly tapped the brakes. Not enough for Steve to notice any movement, but so that Meg—if indeed it was she—would see the brake lights flash. Ironic that Steve had interrupted my bashing spree on the Mercedes before I got to them.
After I tapped the brakes, I saw a dim light in the air behind us. It looked as if she had turned the dome light on and off.
We had made contact.
When I looked in the mirror again, she accelerated rapidly, cutting the distance between us, but still not so close that she could be heard. Thank God for howling December winds and busted side-view mirrors. She slowed, increasing the distance, then rapidly accelerated again. She did it two more times. I thought I knew what she had in mind, but she would need my help.
I took my foot off the gas and allowed the Mercedes to slow. The timing couldn’t have been better because a copse of trees loomed on the horizon. A perfect dumping ground.
“Stop when you get even with the trees,” Steve said.
I put my foot on the brake and started pressing slowly. I pumped it several times, letting the brake lights flash. In the mirror, I saw Meg narrow the gap.
Suddenly I jammed the brake all the way. The Mercedes lurched to a sudden stop, pitching the un-seat-belted Steve forward. His head bounced off the glove compartment then flopped backward. I braced myself as I heard the roar of the Jeep behind us. Steve turned to look, but it was too late.
The Jeep rammed the Mercedes hard. My safety belt held me in place as the airbag filled the space between me and the steering wheel, but Steve pitched forward, only to be punched back by his airbag. The gun clattered to the floorboard on my side.
I pushed the airbag aside and picked up the gun. Then I opened the door and got out, pointing the gun at Steve pinned in the seat.
I thought I heard the sound of a car engine on the night air, but that couldn’t be. Both the Mercedes and my Jeep were stopped dead still.
Meg got out of the Jeep and ran toward me as quickly as she could, dragging her bad leg. I hadn’t seen her move that well since before the carjacking.
She threw her arms around me. She still held my cell phone, which felt cold pressed against my bare back.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Oh, I’m able to sit up and take a little nourishment.”
She gave me the phone. “I tried to tell them where we were, but I don’t know the roads out here.”
As I took the phone, I heard sirens cutting through the December wind. “Sounds like you did just fine.”
Steve struggled his way out of the passenger side of the Mercedes. He faced off with us across the car, blood running from his nose and ears.
I almost didn’t see it at first, but there it was—just a pinprick of red light on Steve’s head, between his eyes.
“Jesus!”
I grabbed Meg and pulled her to the ground just as the crack of a rifle echoed. Steve’s head exploded in a crimson mist then his body dropped out of sight behind the Mercedes.
I heard tires spinning somewhere in the night, barely audible over the approaching sirens. Then I couldn’t hear the tires at all.
Epilogue
I was still on the witness stand after testifying for five days in the racketeering trial of Black West & Merriam—four of them under intense cross-examination from Steve Szulc. But my story was holding. After all, I told the truth, and no lawyer trick could change that. Don Wallace approached the lectern for what I hoped was the last round of questioning.
“Mr. Muckleroy, I have just one more question for you on re-direct. I apologize for not covering this before, but I’m sure everyone in the courtroom wants to know the answer.”
“That’s fine,” I said.
He leaned into the microphone. “How’s your dog Rufus?”
I smiled, conscious that it was the first smile to grace my lips in the past five days.
“Rufus is fine. Thanks for asking.”
“Thank you, Mr. Muckleroy. I have no more questions.”
*
After four grueling weeks of trial, two of which were filled by Meg’s and my testimony, the jury deliberated for two days before returning. Meg and I sat alongside Robin in the front row, just behind the prosecutor’s table. Alvin was joined at the defendants’ table by Matt and Oscar. Steve McGinnis’s murder remained unsolved, and I suspect it never will be. His seat on the Management Committee remained empty.
We all stood as the jury filed in. Once they were in their places, Judge Capps motioned us to sit. He held a form in his hand.
“I have the jury’s verdict,” the judge said. “I’ll ask the defendants to please rise.”
Matt, Oscar, and Alvin, on trial as individual defendants on behalf of the firm, stood at attention with their lawyers. Judge Capps began reading.
“As to Count One, violations of the Racketeer Influenced Corrupt Organizations Act, the jury finds Black West and Merriam guilty.”
The committee members stiffened. Oscar lowered his head while the other two stared straight ahead.
“As to Count Two, obstruction of justice, the jury finds Black West and Merriam guilty.
“As to Count Three, conspiracy to defraud, the jury finds Black West and Merriam guilty.”
Judge Capps put the verdict form down. Oscar looked up—it looked like he was crying—and the three men faced the judge. Judge Capps, with great deliberation, looked each man in the eye, pausing on each one before moving to the next. Then he scanned the rows of male partners sitting directly behind their Management Committee.
“Some of you have been in my courtroom before, as lawyers,” the judge said. “Others in your firm have also been here. I’ve always considered Black West lawyers to be good lawyers…some of the best in Dallas. Always well-prepared, always thorough, always diligent and zealous in representing your clients.
“But today I have to say, much to my regret, that you have disgraced yourselves, this court, and the very system that you have sworn, as lawyers, to uphold. If you’ve learned nothing else here, I hope you’ve learned that justice is more than just a word. It’s a goal, an ideal. And no one, not even the most powerful law firm in Dallas, is above it.”
He paused for emphasis and then added, “Not in my courtroom.”
*
Several of my partners gathered in a small conference room on the floor that housed the firm’s corporate lawyers. This was the same conference room where Meg and Robin had sat when they settled Meg’s lawsuit against the firm, two weeks after Steve McGinnis was killed. The firm agreed to pay Meg two million dollars, and also agreed to hire her back. She took the money but declined the job offer. Instead, she took a few more weeks off to fully recuperate, then used the money, and Robin’s connections, to open her own office. Bill Patterson sent work her way. Six months later, she had a nice practice going.
Paige Connally, a former federal prosecutor who now handled commercial litigation in Tripp Malloy’s old section, sat at the end of the table. After the trial, the partners voted the convicted partners off the firm’s Management Committee and also voted to expel them. In Alvin’s stead, Paige was elected the new managing partner. Charlene Nelson was also added to the committee, along with one other female partner. All three of them sat at the table when I entered.
Paige got right to the point. “The firm wants me to ask if you would agree to serve as a member of the Management Committee.”
“Paige, I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“I dropped off my resignation letter on your desk on my way here.”
There were murmurs of surprise from the lawyers.
“The publicity from this thing is about to kill us,” Paige said. “You’re the last bastion of credibility to our clients. If you go, we lose that. We may even go under. You can’t just walk away and leave us in the lurch like that.”
“Paige, I not only can, that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
Charlene smiled, almost beaming.
“Y’all will get through this,” I said. “This firm has weathered storms before.”
“Not like this. Not in all my years here.”
“It may be rocky for a while, but that’s not my problem. I’m out. This is not where I want to be anymore.”
I looked at each of them, waiting for more protest. But they said nothing. I guess my face told them I was serious.
“Besides, I’ve got a new partner. Meg and I are getting married and going into practice together.”
“That’s great, Bay,” Charlene said. “In fact, that’s fantastic. When?”
“Day after tomorrow. We’ve already got a preacher lined up and a beach picked out on Kauai for the wedding.”
“Send me a postcard.”
“Will y’all be able to keep busy?” Paige asked.
“Patterson McBain is shifting most of its work to us, so that ought to keep us going for a while. Lord knows their work kept this firm busy enough.”
“Give Meg my congratulations,” Charlene said. “She’s getting quite a catch.”
I blushed and nodded my thanks. I checked my watch.
“If that’s all, I’ve got a plane to catch.”
*
Meg was waiting in the Jeep for me. Rufus bounded around in the back seat, excited by all the traffic and the people downtown. I got in on the passenger side. Meg gave me a kiss on the lips—Rufus gave me one on the cheek.
“Mom and Dad will meet us at the airport in thirty minutes,” Meg said. “They and the cats are all looking forward to having Rufus for two weeks.”
“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go to Hawaii.”
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Mike Farris, Wrongful Termination
