Yeah, right, I thought. I felt blindsided by what Martinez had told me, but it was the kind of thing that would have come out sooner or later. Better to learn it now than the hard way later.
What I didn’t realize was how many more surprises Tina’s case had in store for me.
CHAPTER THREE
I spent a leisurely hour or so in court, watching skittish defendants run through countless guilty plea litanies. Waiting for my client’s case to be called gave him plenty of time to learn his lines. He pled to reckless endangerment after being charged with assault. He had drug-related priors too. The assistant state’s attorney must have felt generous when we worked out the deal, because he sought only probation before judgment and community service. When did prosecutors start being so nice?
Faint anxiety distracted me. I wondered if my erstwhile affair with one of the State’s Attorney’s most senior prosecutors had leaked out. Could it be that other ASAs were treating me with kid gloves because of that? Didn’t seem likely.
My decision to break off the affair with the very-married Ray Mardovich hadn’t been easy. And I felt wary whenever I went to court. I’d catch myself looking for Ray and hoping I wouldn’t see him (while part of me still hoped I would).
My client went through the guilty plea motions with admirable poise. As I gathered my things and turned to leave, I thought I saw the ASA wink at me as the bailiff called the next case. Could have been my imagination or something in his eye. Paranoid thoughts of my relationship with Ray leaking out plagued me again. If there had been a leak, I hoped the prosecutor wasn’t hoping for an encore. Good plea bargains in exchange for good head? What a comforting thought.
If this prosecutor was seeking anything more than professional courtesy, he was wasting his time. My episode with Ray had taught me not to shit where you eat.
As I weaved my way through the courthouse crowd—the usual downtrodden lot in shiny, off-the-rack suits reserved for weddings and funerals—I saw ASA Kaitlyn Farrell approaching, balancing a stack of files. Kait’s one of the good ones—always deals fair and square—and a great source of inside information. I flagged her down and drew her aside for some quick face time.
“Sam!” she said. “You’re not here to see me, are you?”
“Naw. Nothing in your league. A juvenile matter and an assault.” Kait’s forte was major weapons charges. In Prince George’s County, enough gun and drug cases rolled through the system to support a whole unit. “But I’m heading out to meet Walt Shapiro on an interesting case.”
Her eyes widened behind the black rectangular frames that complemented her dark brown hair. “Do tell. What kind of case are you handling with the Grand Master of PG County criminal lawyers? Anything where I might be on the other side?”
“Doubtful. It’s an embezzlement case.”
“White collar crime? My, my—we’re moving up in the world, aren’t we?” She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Even Walt doesn’t do a whole lot of those.”
“Consider the market. Most of the criminal work around here is in drugs and violent crime.” PG County had a drug trafficking and murder rate to rival its neighbor, Washington, DC. “I think Walt stumbled onto this one because it involves his nephew, Bradley Higgins.”
“Really? What’s he like?”
“All right, I guess. One of these young guys who’s into computer games, so he works for a computer gaming company. He works in accounting, has big ideas about going into business for himself someday. He’s okay, if you go for boyish blonds with too much family money and too little sense.”
Kait laughed, then looked thoughtful. “Embezzlement . . . not my bailiwick. But don’t kid yourself. Our Economic Crimes Unit has plenty of cases. Mortgage fraud is rampant in this county. I’m not sure which of their attorneys would handle embezzlement, though.”
“Hold your horses. The company hasn’t even pressed charges yet. All they have on him is a phony vendor account they claim he created in order to steal from the company. Since he’s the only one authorized to create these accounts, naturally, he came under suspicion first.”
“Soun
ds logical.”
“Yes, but . . . ” I held up a finger for emphasis, “he was the one who reported the irregularity that led to the investigation of the account.”
“So why would they suspect him?”
“He reported it to his former supervisor but never put anything in writing. He thinks the supervisor took credit for finding the problem, since it was his job to spot these things. Anyway, the supervisor quit or was fired—it’s not clear which—and no one knows where he’s gone. Or at least no one’s telling.”
“So all you have is his word about reporting the problem. And he could be lying to the company and you.”
“Anything’s possible,” I said. “But I believe him. Besides, if the case against him is so clear cut, why didn’t they fire him instead of putting him on administrative leave pending an audit? Obviously, they need more evidence before they can take legal action.”
I’d left out a few details. Sure, Brad’s old supervisor, a fellow named Darrell Cooper, could have taken credit for finding the phony account. Cooper, perhaps too conveniently, wasn’t around to confirm or deny it. The corporate headquarters had quickly sent a woman named Sondra Jones to take Cooper’s place. And what about the $5,000 they found hidden in Brad’s file cabinet? Not a smart place to hide stolen money, but who said criminals were always smart?
Kait shifted the files to her other arm. “Sounds like a live one. But wait’ll you hear this!” She leaned in with a conspiratorial air. “Mardovich and his wife have split.”
My jaw dropped. For a moment, I couldn’t think of a word to say. “Really?” I murmured.
Kait nodded, looking coy. “You know why, don’t you?”