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“The state boys very much want this to be a simple hit-and-run, nothing more. I can’t figure out why that is, which is why you’re sitting in my house drinking a beer and not bleeding to death on the street. I’m hoping you can fill in some holes for me.”
Marvin shook his head. “Here’s what I know. I work for . . . worked for Baker Jauncey. He was a partner at Margolis and Margolis. I was his investigator. A few days ago, the night before he died, he told me he’d discovered financial malfeasance at the law firm and was looking into it.”
Sandy sat forward in his chair and put his elbows on the table. This was news. “What sort of malfeasance?”
“Someone at the firm was stealing client settlement money—and a shit ton of it.”
“How?”
“Skimming it. I don’t know exactly how it was being done. Neither did Baker, but he asked me to help him figure it out. The next day he was dead.”
A web of thoughts congested Sandy’s mind. If someone inside Margolis & Margolis had learned that Baker Jauncey was about to uncover financial fraud at the firm, and killed him before he could do it, how the hell did Annabelle Margolis’s car end up on Highway 67?
“Start from the beginning,” Sandy said.
“I just did. That’s the beginning, the middle, and the end. That’s all I know.”
“What did Baker do about it?”
“Took a deep dive into the financials at the firm. He was a partner, so he had access. Once he sniffed out the con and found the paper trail, he started collecting evidence. Printed out every sordid detail of the fraud and created one big-ass file. Problem was, Baker couldn’t figure out which attorney or attorneys were involved, or how, exactly, they were doing it. He could tell there was money missing, but couldn’t figure out how it was stolen or who was behind the theft. There were shell companies and shadow entities and numbered bank accounts, but no names attached to the fraud. At least not that he could find. So he asked me for help. He wanted to put my investigative skills to work and asked me to find proof that one or more of the firm’s attorneys were living beyond their means. He had the dollar amounts that were stolen. It was my job to figure out where that money went and what it had been spent on. I was supposed to look into the private lives of every attorney at the firm, starting with the partners, and look for anyone who had purchased boats, second homes, elaborate vacations. If I could spot someone living exorbitantly, Baker would add it to the evidence he’d already collected, backtrack through the firm’s files, and see if he could pin down who, exactly, was skimming the money.”
“What did you find?”
“Nothing. I never got the chance to look. Baker told me what he needed one day, and was dead the next. That’s why I’m here, Sheriff. Baker gave me all the paper evidence he’d extracted from the firm and told me to keep it in a safe place. He was dead the next day, and I was left with the evidence that killed him.”
“Damn.”
“See why I didn’t want to talk with you in town?”
Sandy cocked his head. “Now I feel like crap for putting a gun to your head.”
“Hell, I’d have done the same thing if someone followed me to my home.”
“Do you have the files Baker gave you?”
“In my car.”
“Have you looked at them?”
“Yeah, but I’m a legal investigator not a forensic accountant. I can’t make heads or tails out of any of it. But if the right people look at the files, they’d be able to figure out who was skimming the money. And whoever was stealing the money killed Baker and made it look like a hit-and-run.”
“And you’re willing to hand the files over to me?”
“Sheriff, I can’t wait to get rid of them.”
Cedar Creek, Nevada
Thursday, June 29, 1995 5 Days Prior . . .
SANDY SPENT ALL NIGHT MAKING A LIST OF EVERY ATTORNEY THAT worked at Margolis & Margolis. Reid Margolis, along with his brother Jameson, were the senior partners. There were twenty-two other partners now that Baker Jauncey was dead, and nearly one hundred associates. Attempting to pick through the files Marvin Mann had delivered to determine who was involved was a monumental task.
Sandy clipped the list of names to the papers Marvin Mann had delivered to him the night before. Someone on the list, Sandy believed, had killed Baker Jauncey. He needed help figuring out who it was and didn’t dare ask anyone inside the Nevada State Police for assistance. He was hesitant to mention the lead to anyone in his own department for fear that somehow it would leak to a Margolis family member. His plan was to stash the files in a safe place until he could recruit some trusted help. He had an old college friend who had worked for the IRS for twenty years before moving to the private sector. Now he managed other people’s money and was a financial genius. If anyone could decipher the pages of evidence Baker Jauncey had extracted from Margolis & Margolis, it was his friend.
Sandy pulled up to the Reno National Bank at just past nine in the morning. He parked the car and turned to Marvin Mann, who sat in the passenger seat.
“Ready?”
Marvin nodded. “The sooner I get these files off my hands, the safer I’ll feel.”
