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“See? It clearly states the settlement amount of one fifty right here, and that matches the amount deposited into the dummy account here.”
Sandy followed Tom’s index finger as it slid between the two matching numbers.
“But here”—Tom turned the page and pointed at a new number—“it shows that a settlement check was issued to Margolis and Margolis in the amount of one hundred twenty-five thousand.”
“Twenty-five K off the top?”
“Exactly. The one twenty-five goes into the escrow account, the twenty-five grand is written off in expenses, and a check is issued to the client. And that’s just the beginning. There are dozens of other examples in the files, and the amounts range from ten grand to a hundred.”
“All stolen funds?”
Tom nodded. “Yeah. I haven’t made it through all the files, but the total is just over five million dollars so far. Enough to kill for, had someone discovered this and threatened to expose those involved.”
Sandy slowly nodded his head. “Who were the attorneys involved?”
“That’s the problem. In order to pull off this level of fraud, shell companies and numbered accounts were created. One main company where the original settlement checks were deposited, and several others that the stolen funds were laundered through. I put a list together of every LLC, S corporation, and sole proprietorship listed. Other than those companies, there are only two other entities referenced in these files. The first is the Margolis firm. The second is the guy signing the checks that were eventually issued to the firm after a percentage was skimmed off the top.”
“Who was it?” Sandy asked.
“He’s listed in all the documents as Guy Menendez.”
“Guy Menendez?”
“Doesn’t ring a bell?”
“No.”
“I’m not surprised.” Tom opened his laptop. “Are you familiar with the Internet?”
“A little. The sheriff’s office has a website but it was all set up by IT guys from the county.”
“Margolis and Margolis has a site,” Tom said, tapping his keyboard. “And on their website is a list of every attorney at the firm. One hundred sixteen in all.” Tom turned the laptop to Sandy. “Not one of them is named Guy Menendez.”
“So who the hell is he?” Sandy asked.
“An alias, I’m guessing. But if you figure out who this guy is, I’m pretty sure you’ll know who killed Baker Jauncey.”
PART IV
From the Shadows
CHAPTER 37
Reno, Nevada Thursday, August 1, 2024
MARGOT GRAY GRABBED TWO BREAKFAST ENTREES OFF THE BAR AND hurried them over to table number eight. It was eleven o’clock in the morning and as soon as the two truckers finished their meal, her shift would mercifully end. She’d pulled a double and was going on fourteen hours straight—minus bathroom and cigarette breaks, and a half hour sometime in the middle of the night to eat a bagel with cream cheese and slurp down an energy drink to keep her going. Her knees ached and her ankles were swollen from so many hours on her feet.
She slid the plates in front of her last two customers with a pleasant smile she was no longer aware she even offered. She’d plastered it on her face for so many years that it came without conscious thought.
“Can I get you anything else?”
“Coffee, please,” one of the truckers said.
Margot hustled over to the coffee station, grabbed the pot, and refilled the coffee mugs in front of each man.
“And then just the check,” the trucker said. “We’ve gotta hit the road so we’re gonna eat fast.”
Margot smiled, pulled the check from the front pocket of her apron, and placed it on the table. She spent twenty minutes balancing out the tabs from her shift and taking out her tips—$113. There was always the temptation to calculate the number of hours of her life she gave up for the money she made, but she’d been down that road before and it led to dark places she cared not to visit again. She was a fifty-two-year-old waitress with no other skills. It wasn’t enough in this world to want something different. She needed talent if she wanted her life to change, and Margot Gray had decided the only talent she possessed was a fake smile and the ability to spend hours on her feet hustling from table to table.
