The Deposit Slip

40





They huddled in his father’s living room, listening to Jessie’s story of what she’d learned at lunch with Yvonne—Erin, Mrs. Huddleston, Rachel, and Jared. Jared watched Jessie through eyes puffed with fatigue, alternating between tides of anger and exhaustion.

As much as he disliked Stanford and Whittier, he’d never suspected they could be personally tied into the theft of the check. But then everything had changed since he’d left for Athens.

The room stilled, and Jared looked up to see that Jessie had finished. All eyes were turned to him.

For a moment, he was tempted to tell an incomplete story of Athens. All he had to do was shift the timing of his discovery of the package. But he told it as it happened. Erin, Jessie, and Mrs. Huddleston did not blink or falter and Jared was relieved.

But Rachel responded differently. Her face wilted and her shoulders fell as Jared described the threatening note and the man in the brown jacket—until her hands were strangling the hem of her sweater and her eyes widened with alarm. Mrs. Huddleston obviously noted it too, watching with growing interest from the corner of her eye.

As Jared’s story reached the Athens rail station, Rachel moaned, stumbled to her feet, and rushed to the door. Erin rose to follow, but before she was past Jared’s shoulder, a car door slammed. A moment later an engine raced and tires squealed up the cul-de-sac.

“Anyone know what that was about?” Jessie asked.

No one answered, though Jared thought that Mrs. Huddleston looked more thoughtful than surprised.

“Well, I’ll call her later,” Jessie said.

“So what do we do now?” Erin asked, returning to her seat. “About the case, I mean.”

Jared didn’t suggest the case was over—though he knew it still might be. He’d come back to Ashley today planning to explain why his Greek visit spelled the end of the case. Jessie’s news had made that conclusion less clear.

“Our problem,” he began instead, “is we’re still all hints and no evidence.”

“You’ve got Cory’s statement,” Jessie said.

Jared shook his head. “It doesn’t go far enough. Cory’s confession to me about the amount of the midnight deposit isn’t in there. Even if it was, it’s not safe to use. Right now the bank—or Stanford—probably doesn’t know we have the statement. But once we serve it with our papers, they could track Cory down and threaten her to recant—or worse. We can’t put her through that.”

“What about the document we found this week?” Jessie asked.

Erin looked puzzled. “What document?”

Jared reached for Jessie’s photocopy. “Jessie discovered this in the boxes this week.”

“What is it?” Erin asked.

“ ‘From: Ashley Bank Vice-President Timothy Harley; To: Vice-President Penelope Strittmeyer; Date: March 1, 1994,’ ” Jared read aloud. “ ‘Please begin collection of the following records for disk storage prior to their destruction, consistent with the new bank document retention policy to destroy all such records after ten years.’ ”

“How does that help?”

“The records to be collected included all closed bank accounts,” Jared said. “The bank never produced these disks in discovery, and none of the witnesses testified to checking them. So there may still be an unchecked bank record that could reveal the account number on our deposit slip.”

Erin leaned forward on the couch, flushed and excited. “This is great. Let’s tell the judge they withheld this disk evidence and get more time. Then we go after that evidence plus the Paisley trust account records.”

He wanted to please Erin with a simple yes, but shook his head in the negative.

“We’ve had eight months to move the court to compel the disk evidence—counting Mort’s time on the case. We’ve had the documents from Paisley’s ‘dump,’ which included this sheet, for four weeks. After giving us time to complete depositions and prepare for the summary judgment hearing, I’d give us little chance of squeezing yet another delay out of this judge.

“And as for the trust account records,” Jared plowed on, “we’re treading on sacred ground there. We have zero chance that this judge would allow us to subpoena Paisley’s client trust account before the hearing based on a random lunch comment by a legal assistant. No, the discovery phase of this case is done.”

Erin shrank back into the couch. Jared wanted to comfort her, but there was no time left for false hope. She was collapsing with frustration, he thought, but for him, the emotion was anger, tamped low by fatigue and a waning reservoir of emotional fuel.

If Cory was telling the truth, they now knew that Erin’s father deposited the money with the Ashley bank, and that the bank—and perhaps Stanford—had hidden that money. They knew witnesses were being threatened in order to shut them up. But whatever they “knew,” they still fell far short of the evidence to prove these points and avoid the precipice of dismissal.

He glanced at Jessie, who had quit this job because he refused to drop the case. Since his return she hadn’t once mentioned resigning. In fact, he imagined he could hear her teeth grinding, she was so determined that this case get to trial.

Get to trial. He realized that they were thinking too short term. It was true they had only a few days to find enough evidence to get past summary judgment—and that this judge would not allow them more discovery to find that evidence. But if they convinced the judge not to dismiss the case, they would have renewed power to subpoena witnesses and documents for trial. With that renewed power for the next and final phase of the case, they could demand the disks and Paisley trust account records for trial.

Of course they could come up flat. But at least they’d have more time for the fight.

As quickly as he grew enthused with this line of thought, his excitement subsided just as fast. They were still left with the dilemma of convincing this judge to not dismiss the case, to let them go to trial. Cory’s statement remained the only evidence with any chance of achieving that goal—and they had no safe way to use it. They were back to square one.

Explaining his thoughts out loud, Jared watched as Erin and Jessie grew excited about the notion of subpoenaing records for trial—only to fade as he returned to the fundamental problem of not being able to use Cory’s statement.

Mrs. Huddleston had remained thoughtful while Jared spoke. Her hand went up in the silence that greeted his final words.

“Jared, what if we could get Cory’s statement to the judge for the hearing without letting the Paisley attorneys know. Would that make it safe to use?”

Mrs. Huddleston’s question puzzled Jared. He was still thinking about it when Jessie spoke. “I don’t see how. Then Stanford and the bank would learn about the statement at the hearing and could harm or threaten Cory to prevent her testifying live at trial—or even for revenge.”

“I’m not sure,” Jared responded. “At least if Stanford’s behind this. Marcus prides himself on real-world pragmatism. If we slipped the evidence by him—got it into the hearing without giving Stanford time to take action against Cory—I don’t think he’d risk harming her afterward just as punishment.”

“Wouldn’t he still threaten Cory to keep her from testifying live at trial?”

“Maybe,” Jared answered, “but once the judge sees Cory’s written statement, if there was any hint that Cory was harmed or intimidated to prevent her live testimony, there’s a good chance he’d use his discretion to permit the statement into evidence at trial. Also, if we get to trial, the importance of Cory’s testimony pales compared to proof we’ll have if we could show that the Paisley trust account deposit matches the amount deposited with the Ashley State Bank.”

He turned to Mrs. Huddleston, scrutinizing the wallpaper, forgotten since she’d raised the question that started this discussion. “Carol, even if we knew all these things would work out in our favor, I don’t see any way to get the statement to the judge for the hearing without serving Stanford. If we try to sneak Cory’s statement to the judge without serving it on Paisley, Stanford will scream about ethics violations at the hearing, and the judge is unlikely to consider it just on principle.”

Mrs. Huddleston nodded. “Uh-huh. Well, Jared, you’re the lawyer of course. But let’s talk about Rachel for a moment.”





Through the living room window, Jared watched as Mrs. Huddleston got into Erin’s car for a ride home. Jessie was standing at the driver’s window, talking to Erin.

Jared contemplated the strategy they had settled on. It was tenuous and risky—but everything was in this case. Besides, two days ago, Jared had concluded the case was over. Any chance at resurrecting it was worth a try.

Jessie came back through the front door. Without removing her coat, she strode to Jared as he sat on the couch and dropped a folded piece of paper on his lap. She stood over him as he picked it up and opened it.

It was a check, written on an account of Erin Larson. The check amount was thirty thousand dollars.

“What’s this?” he asked, stupefied.

“Expense money,” she replied.

Jessie retreated toward the kitchen, with Jared following. “I don’t get it. Where’d she come up with this money?”

“It appears that Ms. Larson found an investor for the case.”

“Who?”

“Philip Olney.”

“And where did Phil come up with this kind of money?”

Jessie was trying to light a burner on the stove. “Tea, Captain?”

“Jessie, tell me what’s going on.”

She placed a kettle on the lit burner before stopping to face him.

“Well, it appears that while you were vacationing in Europe, Philip Olney settled his case against his brother. It turns out that all he needed was to have those bank records at our office audited, and his brother folded like a house of cards.”

“How’d that put money in Erin’s bank account?”

“Apparently someone told Phil about the Larson case and worked out an investment deal with Erin: thirty thousand dollars for 3 percent of the case.”

Unbelievable. This could get them through. “And that someone would be you?”

“Yes. Jared?”

“Yeah.”

“This will make everything square, right? With the trust account?”

Jared nodded, saw the relief on Jessie’s face.

“We’ve got some things to talk about,” he said.

“Lots on your plate right now. Later’s fine. And I’m still on the job unless you’ve found a replacement for me while in Athens.”

“Still working on it. You know, Jessie, it’s not just about the money.”

Jessie nodded. “I think I’m starting to figure that out.”

The kettle began to boil and Jessie turned away.

“An audit that fast,” Jared said. “It must have cost a lot. Who’d you get to do it?”

She turned back, smiling, and extended a cup of tea. “Your father.”