The Testament (44 page)

Troy Junior squirmed and fidgeted yet again. He looked at Hark, who shrugged as if to say, “Answer the question. He’s got the paperwork.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Did you buy any other cars that day?”

“Yes.”

“How many?”

“A total of two.”

“Two Porsches?”

“Yes.”

“For a total of nearly one hundred and eighty thousand dollars?”

“Something like that.”

“How did you pay for them?”

“I haven’t.”

“So the cars were gifts from Irving Motors?”

“Not exactly. I bought them on credit.”

“You qualified for credit?”

“Yes, at Irving Motors anyway.”

“Do they want their money?”

“Yes, you could say that.”

Nate picked up more papers. “In fact, they’ve filed suit to recover either the money or the cars, haven’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Did you drive the Porsche to the deposition today?”

“Yes. It’s in the parking lot.”

“Let me get this straight. On December tenth, the day after your father died, you went to Irving Motors and bought two expensive cars, on some type of credit, and now, two months later, you haven’t paid a dime and are being sued. Correct?”

The witness nodded.

“This is not the only lawsuit, is it?”

“No,” Troy Junior said in defeat. Nate almost felt sorry for him.

A rental company was suing for nonpayment on a furniture lease. American Express wanted over fifteen thousand. A bank sued Troy Junior a week after the reading of his father’s will. Junior had fast-talked it into a loan of twenty-five thousand dollars, secured by nothing but his name. Nate had copies of all the litigation, and they trudged through the details of each lawsuit.

At five, another argument occurred. Another note was sent to
Wycliff. The Judge appeared himself and asked about their progress. “When do you think you’ll finish with this witness?” he asked Nate.

“There’s no end in sight,” Nate said, staring at Junior, who was in a trance and praying for liquor.

“Then work until six,” Wycliff said.

“Can we start at eight in the morning?” Nate asked, as if they were going to the beach.

“Eight-thirty,” His Honor decreed, then left.

For the last hour, Nate peppered Junior with random questions on many subjects. The deponent had no clue where his interrogator was going, and Junior was being led by a master. Just as they settled on one topic and he began to feel comfortable, Nate changed course and hit him with something new.

How much money did he spend from December 9 to December 27, the day the will was read? What did he buy his wife for Christmas, and how did he pay for the gifts? What did he buy for his children? Back to the five million, did he put any of the money in stocks or bonds? How much money did Biff earn last year? Why did her first husband get custody of her kids? How many lawyers had he hired and fired since his father died? And on and on.

At precisely six, Hark stood and announced the deposition was being adjourned. Ten minutes later, Troy Junior was in a bar in a hotel lobby two miles away.

Nate slept in the Stafford guest room. Mrs. Stafford was somewhere in the house, but he never saw her. Josh was in New York on business.

________

THE SECOND day of questioning started on time. The cast was the same, though the lawyers were dressed much more casually. Junior wore a red cotton sweater.

Nate recognized the face of a drunk—the red eyes, the puffy
flesh around them, the pink cheeks and nose, the sweat above the brows. The face had been his for years. Treating the hangover was as much a part of the morning as the shower and the dental floss. Take some pills, drink lots of water and strong coffee. If you’re gonna be stupid you gotta be tough.

“You realize that you’re still under oath, Mr. Phelan?” he began.

“I do.”

“Are you under the influence of any drugs or alcohol?”

“No sir, I am not.”

“Good. Let’s go back to December the ninth, the day your father died. Where were you when he was examined by the three psychiatrists?”

“I was in his building, in a conference room with my family.”

“And you watched the entire examination, didn’t you?”

“I did.”

“There were two color monitors in the room, right? Each twenty-six inches wide?”

“If you say so. I didn’t measure them.”

“But you could certainly see them, couldn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Your view was unobstructed?”

“I had a clear view, yes.”

“And you had a clear reason to watch your father closely?”

“I did.”

“Did you have any trouble hearing him?”

“No.”

The lawyers knew where Nate was going. It was an unpleasant aspect of their case, but one that could not be avoided. Each of the six heirs would be led down this path.

“So you watched and heard the entire exam?”

“I did.”

“You missed nothing?”

“I missed nothing.”

“Of the three psychiatrists, Dr. Zadel had been hired by your family, correct?”

“That’s correct.”

“Who found him?”

“The lawyers.”

“You trusted your lawyers to hire the psychiatrist?”

“Yes.”

For ten minutes, Nate quizzed him on exactly how they came to select Dr. Zadel for such a crucial exam, and in the process got what he wanted. Zadel was hired because he had excellent credentials, came highly recommended, and was very experienced.

“Were you pleased with the way he handled the exam?” Nate asked.

“I suppose.”

“Was there something you didn’t like about Dr. Zadel’s performance?”

“Not that I recall.”

The trip to the edge of the cliff continued as Troy Junior admitted that he was pleased with the exam, pleased with Zadel, happy with the conclusions reached by all three doctors, and left the building with no doubt that his father knew what he was doing.

“After the exam, when did you first doubt your father’s mental stability?” Nate asked.

“When he jumped.”

“On December the ninth?”

“Right.”

“So you had doubts immediately.”

“Yes.”

“What did Dr. Zadel say to you when you expressed these doubts?”

“I didn’t talk to Dr. Zadel.”

“You didn’t?”

“No.”

“From December ninth to December twenty-seventh, the day the will was read in court, how many times did you talk to Dr. Zadel?”

“I don’t remember any.”

“Did you see him at all?”

“No.”

“Did you call his office?”

“No.”

“Have you seen him since December the ninth?”

“No.”

Having walked him to the edge, it was time for the shove. “Why did you fire Dr. Zadel?”

Junior had been prepped to some degree. “You’ll have to ask my lawyer that,” he said, and hoped Nate would just go away for a while.

“I’m not deposing your lawyer, Mr. Phelan. I’m asking you why Dr. Zadel was fired.”

“You’ll have to ask the lawyers. It’s part of our legal strategy.”

“Did the lawyers discuss it with you before Dr. Zadel was fired?”

“I’m not sure. I really can’t remember.”

“Are you pleased that Dr. Zadel no longer works for you?”

“Of course I am.”

“Why?”

“Because he was wrong. Look, my father was a master con man, okay. He bluffed his way through the exam, same way he did all of his life, then jumped out of the window. He snowed Zadel and the other shrinks. They fell for his act. He was obviously off his rocker.”

“Because he jumped?”

“Yes, because he jumped, because he gave his money to some unknown heir, because he made no effort to shield his fortune from estate taxes, because he’d been crazy as hell for some time. Why do you think we had the exam to begin with? If he hadn’t
been nuts, would we have needed three shrinks to check him out before he signed his will?”

“But the three shrinks said he was okay.”

“Yeah, and they were dead wrong. He jumped. Sane people don’t fly out of windows.”

“What if your father had signed the thick will and not the handwritten one? And then he jumped? Would he be crazy?”

“We wouldn’t be here.”

It was the only time during the two-day ordeal that Troy Junior fought to a draw. Nate knew to move on, then to come back later.

“Let’s talk about Rooster Inns,” he announced, and Junior’s shoulders fell three inches. It was just another one of his bankrupt ventures, nothing more or less. But Nate had to have every little detail. One bankruptcy led to another. Each failure prompted questions about other doomed enterprises.

Junior’s had been a sad life. Though it was hard to be sympathetic, Nate realized that the poor guy had never had a father. He had longed for Troy’s approval, and never received it. Josh had told him that Troy had taken great delight when his children’s ventures collapsed.

The lawyer freed the witness at five-thirty, day two. Rex was next. He’d waited in the hall throughout the day, and was highly agitated at being put off again.

Josh had returned from New York. Nate joined him for an early dinner.

FORTY-FIVE
_____________

R
ex Phelan had spent most of the previous day on the cell phone in the hallway while his brother was roughed up by Nate O’Riley. Rex had been in enough lawsuits to know that litigation meant waiting: waiting for lawyers, judges, witnesses, experts, trial dates, and appeals courts, waiting in hallways for your turn to give testimony. When he raised his right hand and swore to tell the truth, he already despised Nate.

Both Hark and Troy Junior had warned him of what was to come. The lawyer could get under your skin and fester there like a boil.

Again, Nate started with inflammatory questions, and within ten minutes the room was tense. For three years, Rex had been the target of an FBI investigation. A bank had failed in 1990; Rex had been an investor and director. Depositors lost money. Borrowers lost their loans. Litigation had been raging for years with no end in sight. The president of the bank was in jail, and those
close to the epicenter thought Rex would be next. There was enough dirt to keep Nate going for hours.

For fun, he continually reminded Rex that he was under oath. There was also a very good chance the FBI would see his deposition.

It was mid-afternoon before Nate worked his way to the strip bars. Rex owned six of them—held in his wife’s name—in the Fort Lauderdale area. He’d bought them from a man killed in a gunfight. They were simply irresistible as subjects of conversation. Nate took them one by one—Lady Luck, Lolita’s, Club Tiffany, et cetera—and asked a hundred questions. He asked about the girls, the strippers, where they came from, how much they earned, did they use drugs, what drugs, did they touch the customers, and on and on. He asked question after question about the economics of the skin business. After three hours of carefully painting a portrait of the sleaziest business in the world, Nate asked, “Didn’t your current wife work in one of the clubs?”

The answer was yes, but Rex couldn’t just blurt it out. His throat and neck flashed red and for a moment he appeared ready to lunge across the table.

“She was a bookkeeper,” he said with a clenched jaw.

“She ever do any dancing, on the tables?”

Another pause, as Rex squeezed the table with his fingers. “She certainly did not.” It was a lie, and everyone in the room knew it.

Nate flipped through some papers searching for the truth. They watched him carefully, half-expecting him to pull out a photo of Amber in a G-string and kinky heels.

They adjourned at six again, with the promise of more tomorrow. When the video camera was off and the court reporter was busy putting away her equipment, Rex stopped at the door, pointed at Nate, and said, “No more questions about my wife, okay?”

“That’s impossible, Rex. All assets are in her name.” Nate
waved some papers at him, as if he had all their records. Hark shoved his client through the door.

Nate sat alone for an hour, skimming notes, flipping pages, wishing he were in St. Michaels sitting on the porch of the cottage with a view of the bay. He needed to call Phil.

This is your last case, he kept telling himself. And you’re doing it for Rachel.

By noon of the second day, the Phelan lawyers were openly discussing whether Rex’s deposition would take three days or four. He had over seven million dollars in liens and judgments filed against him, yet the creditors couldn’t execute because all assets were in the name of his wife, Amber, the ex-stripper. Nate took each judgment, laid it on the table, examined it from every conceivable angle and direction, then placed it back in the file where it might stay and it might not. The tedium was unnerving everyone but Nate, who somehow kept an earnest demeanor as he plodded ahead.

For the afternoon session he selected the topic of Troy’s leap and the events leading up to it. He followed the same line he’d used on Junior, and it was obvious Hark had prepped Rex. His answers to the questions about Dr. Zadel were rehearsed, but adequate. Rex hung with the party line—the three psychiatrists were simply wrong because Troy jumped minutes later.

More familiar territory was covered when Nate grilled him about his dismal employment career with The Phelan Group. Then they spent two painful hours wasting the five million Rex had received as his inheritance.

At five-thirty, Nate abruptly said he was finished, and walked out of the room.

Two witnesses in four days. Two men laid bare on video, and it wasn’t a pretty sight. The Phelan lawyers went to their separate cars and drove away. Perhaps the worst was behind them, perhaps not.

Their clients had been spoiled as children, ignored by their
father, cast into the world with fat checking accounts at an age when they were ill-equipped to handle money, and expected to prosper. They had made bad choices, but all blame ultimately went back to Troy. That was the considered judgment of the Phelan lawyers.

Libbigail was led in early Friday morning and placed in the seat of honor. Her hair was of a style quite similar to a crew cut, with the sides peeled to the skin and an inch of gray on top. Cheap jewelry hung from her neck and wrists so that when she raised her hand to be sworn there was a racket at her elbow.