Read Online Lou Mason Mystery - 01 - Motion to Kill by Joel Goldman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Joel Goldman
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late to the meeting with Victor O’Malley. Scott Daniels and Harlan Christenson were huddled at the far end of the conference room with O’Malley, a dark-suited trio talking in hushed voices to add weight to their words.
O’Malley had a face like an inflated punctuation mark. A scarred, bulbous nose testified to the hard knocks he’d taken. He had crisp eyes that missed nothing.
Mason knew his story. O’Malley was awarded the Silver Star in Vietnam when he led his platoon in a successful bloody attack on a hill controlled by heavily entrenched Vietcong. He liked to say that’s when he learned the importance of location, after he built a banking and real estate empire in Kansas City. And, he would add, the importance of being willing to risk everything to survive.
Sandra Connelly was seated at the center of the conference table, her back to the door. Mason recognized O’Malley’s son, Vic Jr., leaning over Sandra, trying to make conversation while he stole a glance down the front of her dress. When she didn’t respond, he wandered back toward his father, who kept his back to him, barring Vic Jr. from his inner circle. He pretended not to notice by picking microscopic lint off his black silk shirt.
Vic Jr. had not climbed out of his father’s gene pool. He was round-shouldered, with a powdery complexion, a sharp nose, and close-set eyes. He had a nocturnal look, as though he preferred foraging at night to sitting in the conference room. He was a shadow alongside his father, for whom he’d worked since graduating from college a few years earlier. Mason had met them once before. O’Malley had done the talking. Vic Jr. had done all the whining.
Mason cleared his throat. “Sorry I’m late.”
O’Malley turned toward him, waving off any possible offense.
“Quite all right, Lou,” he said, extending his hand as he walked toward him. “I was just telling Scott and Harlan how much I’m going to miss Richard. I depended on him very much. I don’t know how to replace him.”
O’Malley’s two-handed greeting swallowed Mason’s hand, though he struggled to return the intensity of his grip. At six-five, O’Malley took up a lot of space. His oversized ego filled the rest of the room. A heavy gold ring with the Marine Corps insignia flashed off his right hand.
“It won’t be easy, but I’m sure Scott and Harlan will take good care of you.”
“Of course, of course they will. So long as you keep me out of jail.”
Harlan put his arms around Mason and O’Malley, forming a new circle. “Lou, I’ve told Victor that you and Sandra need to talk with him about the government’s case and the subpoena for our records. Take good care of him. Victor has been very good to us.”
They all laughed more than Harlan’s comment deserved. Mason closed the door as Harlan and Scott left the conference room, then sat next to Sandra. Father and son took seats opposite them.
Mason led off. “Victor, did you know that Richard Sullivan and the firm were targets of the grand jury investigation?”
“Cut to the chase, eh? I like that, young man. Yes. Richard told me. He said it was a sign that St. John was desperate but that I didn’t have anything to worry about. He said that you told him I was in the clear.”
Mason studied O’Malley for some indication that O’Malley expected him to believe that story. O’Malley’s face was a pool of calm water.
“We both know that’s bullshit. You’re smart enough to know how much trouble you’re in. The U.S. attorney doesn’t go after the defendant’s lawyers unless he thinks he can squeeze them to turn on their client to save their own hides.”
O’Malley didn’t flinch. “Then suppose you tell me how much trouble I’m in.”
“Here’s what I know. Your bank loaned money to real estate partnerships you controlled that were in financial trouble. The bank never should have loaned the money because the partnerships couldn’t pay the money back. You knew it and the
O’Malley had a face like an inflated punctuation mark. A scarred, bulbous nose testified to the hard knocks he’d taken. He had crisp eyes that missed nothing.
Mason knew his story. O’Malley was awarded the Silver Star in Vietnam when he led his platoon in a successful bloody attack on a hill controlled by heavily entrenched Vietcong. He liked to say that’s when he learned the importance of location, after he built a banking and real estate empire in Kansas City. And, he would add, the importance of being willing to risk everything to survive.
Sandra Connelly was seated at the center of the conference table, her back to the door. Mason recognized O’Malley’s son, Vic Jr., leaning over Sandra, trying to make conversation while he stole a glance down the front of her dress. When she didn’t respond, he wandered back toward his father, who kept his back to him, barring Vic Jr. from his inner circle. He pretended not to notice by picking microscopic lint off his black silk shirt.
Vic Jr. had not climbed out of his father’s gene pool. He was round-shouldered, with a powdery complexion, a sharp nose, and close-set eyes. He had a nocturnal look, as though he preferred foraging at night to sitting in the conference room. He was a shadow alongside his father, for whom he’d worked since graduating from college a few years earlier. Mason had met them once before. O’Malley had done the talking. Vic Jr. had done all the whining.
Mason cleared his throat. “Sorry I’m late.”
O’Malley turned toward him, waving off any possible offense.
“Quite all right, Lou,” he said, extending his hand as he walked toward him. “I was just telling Scott and Harlan how much I’m going to miss Richard. I depended on him very much. I don’t know how to replace him.”
O’Malley’s two-handed greeting swallowed Mason’s hand, though he struggled to return the intensity of his grip. At six-five, O’Malley took up a lot of space. His oversized ego filled the rest of the room. A heavy gold ring with the Marine Corps insignia flashed off his right hand.
“It won’t be easy, but I’m sure Scott and Harlan will take good care of you.”
“Of course, of course they will. So long as you keep me out of jail.”
Harlan put his arms around Mason and O’Malley, forming a new circle. “Lou, I’ve told Victor that you and Sandra need to talk with him about the government’s case and the subpoena for our records. Take good care of him. Victor has been very good to us.”
They all laughed more than Harlan’s comment deserved. Mason closed the door as Harlan and Scott left the conference room, then sat next to Sandra. Father and son took seats opposite them.
Mason led off. “Victor, did you know that Richard Sullivan and the firm were targets of the grand jury investigation?”
“Cut to the chase, eh? I like that, young man. Yes. Richard told me. He said it was a sign that St. John was desperate but that I didn’t have anything to worry about. He said that you told him I was in the clear.”
Mason studied O’Malley for some indication that O’Malley expected him to believe that story. O’Malley’s face was a pool of calm water.
“We both know that’s bullshit. You’re smart enough to know how much trouble you’re in. The U.S. attorney doesn’t go after the defendant’s lawyers unless he thinks he can squeeze them to turn on their client to save their own hides.”
O’Malley didn’t flinch. “Then suppose you tell me how much trouble I’m in.”
“Here’s what I know. Your bank loaned money to real estate partnerships you controlled that were in financial trouble. The bank never should have loaned the money because the partnerships couldn’t pay the money back. You knew it and the
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