Writ of Execution (5 page)

“I’m not dishonest. She’s pulling me into this. I don’t have to live—I mean, do it.”

“You don’t seem to be kicking and screaming,” Paul said, “which I seem to be the only one here to find surprising.” He pointed his eyes at Nina, then turned back to Kenny. “Marriage is not entirely a business decision, or haven’t any of you people thought about that? Holy matrimony ring a bell? And if that doesn’t give you pause, there’s the less morally questionable but vexing issue of logistics. License. Blood test. Ceremony.”

Nina was probably the only one to appreciate the bafflement in Paul’s voice. He had tried marriage twice and failed at it both times. He clearly didn’t like what he took to be their cavalier approach to an old-fashioned institution.

“This is not like picking up a ninety-nine-cent burger, you know,” he went on.

“Speaking of which, have you got any snacks around?” Kenny said.

“I think we have some Snickers bars from last Hallowe’en still in the freezer of the bar fridge in the conference room,” Nina said. Kenny got up and checked it out, finally pulling a candy bar out of the ice it was embedded in. He started pulling shreds of wrapper off, bit by bit, making a stack of trash on the table.

Nina saw Paul’s mouth tighten.

Tonight had been so frustrating for both of them. It was the first time they had been together as a couple in nearly a year, and along came these two young strangers, talking about getting married as if marriage were only a bizarre business deal. She and Paul had wobbled around with the marriage idea for ages, right up until she had married another man. She didn’t blame Paul for his mood, which had to be due at least in part to their own rocky history.

But there was an irresistible simplicity to the notion. “They could go to Reno and do it in a couple of hours,” she said, wandering into the murky moral terrain, just following the logic of the thing, having to admire the legal possibilities. “The registry’s open twenty-four hours a day and so are the wedding chapels in the big casinos. Your casino could wait a few hours. We could think up some excuse. Of course, this is all theory.”

Kenny and the girl stood beside each other without touching. Kenny looked over at the girl, offering a chopper-filled grin. Chocolate smears around his mouth detracted from the smile. The girl, having struck her deal, put her hands in her pockets and ignored his gaze.

“It’s a terrible idea,” Paul said, his eyes stony. “Are you all nuts?”

But the girl interrupted the sermon he was gearing up to deliver. “Let’s do it,” she said. “But this is just business, not a personal relationship. That has to be crystal clear.”

Kenny winced as he absorbed that, and Nina thought, So he is interested in this young lady. She factored in that complication.

She finished off the last of her latte, leaving enough solid precipitate at the bottom to tell a fortune. Staring at it, knowing that it was late at night and that she should think twice, she said, “This idea has aspects that might be called fraudulent by unfriendly parties. It’s a voidable marriage, because you don’t intend to live together as husband and wife. But it might get the check into our possession and we could straighten it out later and make sure the IRS got its due, and no one could claim any damages, so I don’t see who would bother to complain.”

“Possession,” Kenny said. “Always get possession.”

“Name changes are actually quite simple. You change your name by starting to use another name. No formalities are required. The sole requirements that I know of are that you must be older than eighteen and that you don’t do it to defraud anyone. You could change your name without Kenny—wait”—Nina raised her hand to prevent Kenny from interrupting—“but then you would still have the problem of having no ID to show these people. And even if you married Kenny and flashed his driver’s license at the casino, they may surprise you and still not pay out the money until they see your own ID.”

“I’ll do it if he will,” the girl repeated.

“With pleasure,” Kenny said.

“Just a minute, pal,” Paul said.

Leung folded his arms, a vision of obstinacy. He faced Paul, the supercilious look fading and his bleary eyes narrowed.

“What’s your story?” Paul went on. “Let’s hear it now rather than later, when it might come as a rude shock.”

“Anyone would do it for that kind of money.”

“Maybe so. But you make me nervous. Packing a Glock, maybe that has something to do with it. Humor me.”

“The money is for my parents. Payback on a loan. Business reverses.”

Paul seemed to understand that—Nina knew he supported his parents in San Francisco—but the dubious look in his eye remained.

Leung glanced toward the outer office where the gun was, and Nina thought, Holy smokes, was he thinking of using that thing on himself?

“I’m also doing it for Joya,” Leung went on, as if that ought to clear the matter up.

Paul turned to the girl. “Is that your name?”

She shook her head.

“Joya is all that’s left of beauty and love in this world,” Leung said with a lachrymose catch to his voice.

“Oh, he’ll make a fine husband,” Paul told the girl. “You’re both chock full of secrets. The two of you belong together. Listen. Go back to Prize’s and tell them who you are. These kinds of complications, you never know where they may end.”

“He’s right,” Nina said to the girl. “I know you’re afraid right now. But I believe, no matter what the problem is, that Paul and I could protect you.”

“No. I can’t take a chance. I’m sorry.”

“Paul, would you take Kenny into the outer office for a minute?” Nina asked.

Paul got up and the two men went out, shutting the door. The girl squeezed her eyes shut again, as if she were experiencing severe emotional pain.

The almost playful philosophical exercise had suddenly strayed into the realm of substantial possibility and Nina felt the need to backtrack. It was one thing to answer questions and offer legal information, but how could she, in good conscience, encourage such dealings? “I’m concerned and uneasy about this marriage idea,” Nina said as soon as the door closed. “It made sense to consider marriage as an option among other options, but Paul’s right. It could have unpleasant, unpredictable consequences.”

Such as Kenny Leung deciding to make trouble about a divorce or pushing for more money at a later date. Such as the casino people finding out and withholding the jackpot indefinitely. Such as Kenny really being married to someone else, or even this girl really being married to someone else. “Let’s shelve this idea. You don’t know this young man. You could find yourself in bigger trouble than you are already in.”

“Isn’t it better than just lying and saying we’re married?”

Nina considered her answer. “Maybe. It’s technically better. If those are the only choices you have. But we can think some more about this. It’s shady.”

“I’m trying to save my life! It’s not going to hurt anyone. This is my only chance. I’m going to do it, and I really need you. Will you help me? Will you meet me at Prize’s afterwards to get the check so that turkey in the outside office can’t just walk off with my money?”

Nina heaved a sigh. She thought about it. Shady, but the intent wasn’t fraudulent. She could fix the problem in a few days, when the girl calmed down. Then she thought about logistics. Bob, home in bed, all alone. She’d have to draft up some sort of agreement to protect the money from Kenny and it would be three or four o’clock in the morning before Kenny and the girl could get back from Reno.

She could roust her brother, Matt, and ask him to go get Bob. She looked at her watch. It was almost one A.M. She made her mind veer away from what she and Paul could have been doing.

“I’ll pay you twenty-five thousand dollars out of the check for your help tonight,” the girl said.

“Don’t throw away money you don’t have yet,” Nina said. “I charge two hundred an hour plus expenses and”— she rummaged in the top desk drawer for a retainer agreement—“and I’ll ask for a five-thousand-dollar retainer when and if the check clears, because part of this is that I’m going to try to help you with the other problem you have. And I’ll charge you for travel time tonight. Is that fair?”

“More than fair. I may not be able to pay you all that if—if this is all for nothing.”

“I’ll take that chance.”

“Thank you. Thank God Sandy knew you. What about—the blond man out there? The bodyguard?”

“Paul van Wagoner’s my investigator. You hire me, you get him too.”

Nina filled out the top portion of the retainer agreement and passed it on to the girl. She read it and signed it. “I’ll give you a copy at Prize’s,” Nina said. “And now I want your name. I can’t read this signature.”

“But . . .”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Nina said. “It’s privileged now, because we are alone and you’re my client. But I have to know who my clients are. Who are you?”

“No one? Because if you do—it won’t just be me . . .”

“I promise.”

“My name is Jessie. Jessie Potter.” She whispered it.

Nina had half expected the name to be infamous. My name is Lizzie Borden, nice to meet ya. “Okay, Jessie Potter. Nice to meet you. Now, how do I reach you?”

“Sandy. I don’t know my aunt’s number.”

“Is she listed?”

“Sandy will be able to reach me.”

“You’re a member of the Washoe tribe?” Nina said then, because Sandy was a Washoe, a small tribe of Native Americans based around Tahoe and Northern Nevada.

“Yes.”

“Is there a family member you could call for advice about this? Your aunt?”

“No one with any better judgment than I have, including my aunt. She’s eighty and living in about nineteen fifty these days.”

Nina’s headache was getting worse. She gave up. “All right, Jessie. Let’s go get that check,” she said.

The girl stood up. “Now, where is the registry office? How do we get there?”

They went out to Paul and Kenny Leung. Leung was drinking thirstily out of a paper cup.

“She still wants to do it,” Nina said. “What about you, Kenny? If I were you, I’d want to talk to a lawyer first. About the marriage idea, and the agreement I’m about to draw up. I advise you to do that.”

“Not necessary,” Kenny said. “I waive legal counsel. Voluntarily. And with full appreciation of the potential adverse consequences of failing to be represented by counsel when this much money and my pristine bachelor status are involved. Because, you see, I just don’t care. Because this is my final challenge to the gods—”

Nina interrupted, “Are you intoxicated?” He had to say no and walk without staggering, or she wouldn’t be able to go ahead.

“Not since I visited the head just now. Want me to prove it? Calculate your income to within, say, five grand?” He was coherent when he wanted to be.

“No need,” Nina said hurriedly. “Okay, then. We’ll meet in the parking lot at Prize’s as soon as you can get back.”

“I’m going to Reno with them. I’ll drive,” Paul said.

Nina nodded. “Call me when it’s over,” she said to Jessie. Jessie and Kenny went out into the hall.

Paul lingered. As soon as the door shut, he said, “You have to be kidding.”

“You have a better idea?”

“I do. The phone rings in my hotel room. We’re busy. We don’t answer.”

“You wouldn’t miss this for the world, Paul. And neither would I. I wonder if they can pull it off.”

“I don’t trust either one of them. Or you. You’re being reckless. I know that look in your eye. You think this is a big adventure.”

“Don’t be patronizing.”

“Don’t be a fool.”

She sidled up to him and put an arm around his waist. “Look at it as a gamble, Paul. She needs us to help her get that check safely. Let’s go for it.”

“What about the f-word?”

“This is no time to talk about—about the coat!”

“I meant fraud. What did you think I meant?” He gave her a wolfish grin. Then he patted the pocket where he had put Kenny’s gun, and Nina noticed he didn’t give it back before they left.

6

BY FOUR A.M., with another jolt of French roast helping the ibuprofen tablets eat away at her stomach and an agreement that she hoped was ironclad drafted, printed out, copied, and resting uneasily in her briefcase in back, Nina lay in the Bronco—the driver’s seat, pushed back— in that tortured state known to red-eye flyers in which you can’t sleep and you can’t stay awake.

She was parked in the middle of an acre of parking lot behind Prize’s and even the moon had gone to bed, leaving the stars glimmering down, far from the madding crowd still doing their thing in the predawn.

She had called Matt to go get Bob, then called Prize’s and made authoritative sounds and said Mrs. Leung had asked her to come in at four with her to make sure this momentous event went smoothly, no, no problem, just with this astounding jackpot, naturally she and her husband wanted support. John Jovanic, the vice president of operations, wanted to know if they would have to wait all night and sounded like he was having a struggle being polite, and Nina moved to soothing sounds about how young the winners were and how this had really knocked them off balance. Et cetera.

Now her mind skipped around like water on a griddle. It seemed to her suddenly that they were all making a big mistake, she most of all, because she was the lawyer and supposed to knock sense into everyone else. Was there any real alternative to this cockeyed scheme?

The time pressure was real, and Nina believed that her new client was frightened and resolute enough to walk away from all that money if she had to. Who was this stalker? Why was she so sure her life was in danger?

Well, nutty or not, here came the newlyweds, roaring up in Paul’s Mustang. Jessie was sitting up front with Paul, who wore a grim line where his mouth should be.

“They did it,” he reported through the driver’s window. Jessie waved a piece of paper at Nina. She looked grim too. Leung was already getting out and pulling the knot of his tie tight. He looked sick, but quite sober, and had an excited look in his eye. Why, he’s having fun, Nina thought. Well, why not? He had nothing to lose but shut-eye, and a million reasons to celebrate.

They came together like the co-conspirators they were, in a tight little group, though the only other cars were a long way away. In the peculiar stillness of the hour Nina could feel, beyond the casinos, the heavy pull of the mountains and the mammoth lake less than a mile away. Examining the marriage certificate, she said to Jessie, “Still up for this?”

“I have to be.”

“They won’t like you not having any identification. Women aren’t adjuncts of their husbands anymore.”

“If they insist I’ll just walk away. Turn my back and leave.”

“Don’t worry, Joya,” Kenny said. At Nina’s quizzical look, he went on, “Well, I have to call her something. Consider it a pet name.”

“I am not your pet.”

“Ow!” was Kenny’s response. The girl had given him a neat kick in the shin.

Nina pulled out the agreement she had drafted, which provided that Kenny was authorized to accept a check for Mrs. Kenneth Leung from Prize’s for the sole purpose of delivering it to her attorney for placement in said attorney’s trust account, and furthermore that Kenneth Leung acknowledged and averred that he had no claim of right, title, or interest in any funds obtained as a result of Mrs. Leung’s gambling winnings, with one sole exception, which was that in consideration for certain services rendered in connection with collection of the said funds, Mrs. Leung agreed to pay to Mr. Leung the sum of one million dollars within ten days of the clearing of the cashier’s check.

And a lot more legalese.

Kenny read it and signed it without comment. Nina took Jessie aside and made sure she understood the various impacts of the agreement. She signed it, and then Nina signed it as Jessie’s attorney who had prepared the agreement, and then Paul signed it as a witness and general factotum. She had both of them sign a conflict of interest waiver. Nina tucked it all back into her briefcase with the marriage certificate and locked it in the Bronco.

It was done. Now all they had to do was go in and face a lot of people who had been waiting a long time, including the media, which had had several hours to assemble en masse.

Paul said, “Ready?”

Nina gave Jessie a scarf and dark glasses, the best she could do on short notice. Jessie wrapped her hair in the scarf à la a forties movie star. Enough of her face showed so that Nina could observe her fright, but it was Jessie who led them to the big double glass doors that led to the casino floor. Paul stopped her and forged ahead, indicating that Nina and Kenny should flank her from behind.

Their entry created a sensation. Everyone in the whole place had been waiting and seemed to know instantly that the big winner had arrived. All activity halted. Whatever they were doing, winning, losing, hoping, despairing, they paused to watch the procession winding around the blackjack tables and toward the elevators. Several security men caught up with them, adding bulk and gravity to the small group.

People clapped, slowly at first, then gathering energy. Boozy late-night faces came up, beaming. By the time they neared the elevators, they made a parade. A group of reporters poured out of the bar and started snapping pictures, and the security people made no effort to stop them. A dreadlocked kid with a distorted face darted forward—what had he meant to do?—but he was caught and bundled none too kindly back into the crowd before Jessie even saw him.

So this was how it felt to walk with royalty; the pleasure of the spotlight, the fear of the bullet.

The Palace At Four A.M., Nina thought, flashing to Giacometti’s surrealistic art construction. Anything could happen at four A.M. They were participants in a surreal happening. How was she supposed to know what to do? Security had sent several uniformed men to walk in front and keep the way clear, and here was a large grinning crew-cut man beside Jessie, taking her arm.

Volts of anxiety shot through her. She noticed something else behind all the glitz that she had never noticed before, a faint odor, corrupt and metallic and inhuman like the smell of a corpse in a rusty coffin. She had smelled it on her own hands many times after playing the slots, but now it seemed to pervade the floor. It was the smell of silver tokens. She wondered about those legions of hardworking people whose labor had won them a few minutes on the Greed Machine.

Shaking herself, she stretched her neck toward the ceiling, and followed like a dignified lady-in-waiting.

Or like a rat dancing after the Pied Piper.

Or like a member of a funeral cortege in New Orleans, following the band up ahead, the horns swaying in rhythm, the music half joyful, half a dirge . . .

At the twentieth floor, in a large glamorous suite, a group of men in dark suits awaited them. They descended on Jessie. Nina just had time to glimpse a mahogany bar laden with bottles and hors d’oeuvres, and another contingent of voracious eyes held back by invisible lines in the background, the reporters, who must be under orders not to take pictures yet. It wasn’t the food they were voracious about. If Jessie could keep her Grace Kelly thing going with the shades and her hair covered, she might be unrecognizable in tomorrow’s papers.

Introductions were made, accompanied by bone-crushing handshakes all around. In rapid succession, Nina met seven smiling men, all masking various degrees of fatigue and discomfiture. She forced herself to concentrate, to get the names and faces straight.

John Jovanic, vice president of hotel operations for Prize’s, was the crew-cut man, jowly and jolly, in his forties, fingering his wide tie, radiating goodwill. But his eyes were too small and his heartiness wasn’t quite convincing. When he looked at Jessie, Nina thought she saw envy or worse.

Thomas Munzinger of the Global Gaming Corporation jackpot response team came next, tanned and seamed like the Nevada rancher he probably was, straight out of an old Marlboro ad. There was a hard direct challenge in the eyes above the smile. He said, “So she brought a lawyer.”

Nina smiled too. “Just along to enjoy the show.”

“What is she so worried about?” Munzinger asked.

“She’s not worried. She’s excited. Wouldn’t you be, Mr. Munzinger?”

Munzinger didn’t answer. His blue eyes stayed blank. Yikes, Nina thought, but she kept on smiling.

Prize’s director of communications, Andy Miguel Doig, had a head full of auburn curls and a patient smile. He seemed to be the one appointed to keep the reporters in check.

Gary Gray, the aging slots director for Prize’s, still wide-eyed, shook his head in amazement as he greeted them, though four hours had passed since Jessie’s win and he should be adjusted to the concept by now. He held Jessie’s hand for a long time, staring at her as if he couldn’t get enough of her. He wore a red rose in his lapel.

Ully Miller, an electronics engineer with the Nevada Gaming Control Board, which Nina knew was the state agency regulating the gaming industry, was a quiet, close-shaven, middle-aged man. When he shook her hand she noticed he was wearing soft kid gloves. When he smiled, Nina saw that he had a gap between his front teeth, like Alfred E. Neuman or David Letterman. It gave him a slightly goofy appearance.

“Sorry about the delay,” Nina said.

“Oh, there would have been a delay anyway. We had to check the machine very thoroughly. It takes a couple of hours. And for this size jackpot, naturally we checked even more thoroughly.”

“And—I assume there was no problem?”

Miller said, “No problem at all. Bet that’s the best news the little lady ever had. She sure is skittish. A win like this, I can understand, though. She still has that stunned look. She okay?”

“It’s the amount. She just can’t believe it.”

“It’s one of the biggest wins in Nevada history. Incredible. What will she do with it?”

“We haven’t even talked about that.”

And last but definitely not least, Nina shook hands with the one she worried most about, a short, gingery man straight out of South Boston wearing green suspenders under his suit. He was P. K. Maloney, supervising agent for the fourth district of Nevada, United States Internal Revenue Service. She had heard of him. He was part of the audit process, an awe-inspiring figure. She had not wanted to meet him.

An ornate, curved-legged desk sat under the window. While Paul chatted with the others, Nina, Jessie, Kenny Leung, and Maloney adjourned to the desk. Jessie had an inch-thick stack of forms to sign, and not one of them was easy. Nina sat down beside her and read through each form, talking to her in a low voice, trying to keep it all straight. Kenny readily produced his driver’s license when Maloney asked for Jessie’s, and the trouble roared out of the tunnel.

“We’ll need yours, Mrs. Leung,” Maloney told her. “You’re the winnah.”

Nina took his measure. A long Irish lip. A fleshy Irish face. He looked like her dad. Tired eyes, the eyelids drooping. A cleft in the chin. The expression of one who endures. Rough skin and a small curvy mouth. And a pair of ears at a ninety-degree angle to his jaw.

She smiled and said, “We’ll be glad to provide that in a day or two. The Leungs are from Mountain View. Mrs. Leung forgot to bring her wallet up here. But, after all, Mr. Leung has his ID.”

“But my dear lady. His ID is not her ID.”

“What’s the problem, Mr. Maloney? We all want Mrs. Leung to get her check tonight, don’t we? That’s what these folks from the press are waiting for, aren’t they? And we all want to get some sleep. Mrs. Leung is exhausted.”

“It’s a regulation, Mrs. Reilly,” Maloney said, not stiff but not bending either. “You understand.” There was no Mr. Reilly, but this was no time to get picky. Nina nodded.

“I’m aware of that.” She had looked it up just before she left.

“You see my problem,” Maloney said. “I don’t have the authority.”

“But you’re the one here in the field tonight and you have to have some discretion in handling these things,” Nina said. “You must get winners who are drunk, unable to speak English, with all sorts of problems.”

“They’ve all had driver’s licenses up to now,” Maloney said. “And Mr. Jovanic has probably told you, this is a major jackpot. The club has to be able to establish that she’s over twenty-one, for another thing, even if I could . . .”

“She’ll sign an affidavit to that effect, which will protect everyone. I took the liberty of preparing one,” Nina said, pulling it out and handing it to him. “You’ll note that in that document Mrs. Leung also declares under penalty of perjury that she is in fact Mrs. Kenneth Leung and currently married. It includes her address and Social Security number, and my own acknowledgment. You’re in substantial compliance with that reg.”

“Maybe we should all sleep on this,” Maloney said. “I could call my office.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Leung need to get back home to the Bay Area,” Nina said. “There’s nothing in the regs that allows you to compel them to stay here. She has to sign your form W-2G as required for all big winners. She is prepared to do that.”

“Why, goodness me, I’d be the last to compel anyone. But surely you’re not going to go out in the dark of the night when the casino wants to comp you into this fabulous suite?” Maloney said to Jessie. He spread an arm. “Why not stay?”

“I have important business to take care of at home,” Kenny Leung said, speaking for the first time.

Maloney looked him over. He didn’t seem impressed.

“I am the executive vice president and chief operating officer of City of Gold, Incorporated, an Internet firm with its primary offices in San Jose,” Kenny went on. He handed Maloney one of his company cards. “Unfortunately, I have to get back.”

Maloney raised his eyebrows. He took the card, read it carefully, turned it over. He seemed to be wavering. He read Nina’s affidavit. “What’s the hurry? Look at all these good people gathered here to celebrate with you. And tomorrow, why, you’ll be treated like the King of Siam.”

“I have important—I may say crucially important— conferences tomorrow,” Kenny said firmly. “And my wife’s not feeling too well, as you can imagine. She has a stress-related condition. She’ll have excellent security in our home. Therefore, we’ll be going home as soon as we have the ch—uh, completed the formalities.” Jessie was looking at Kenny with astonishment. Kenny seemed to have mustered up a new persona, and he was pulling it off. There was some Dogbert in his Dilbert.