On the other hand, when Tripp drove by on his way to court that morning, he recognized the operator of the bulldozer as one of his volunteer firemen and decided to find out what was happening. He drove down the road to the closed Ocean Spray plant, turned around in their parking lot, and made his way back to the Old Main.
He parked, got out of his car, and began walking toward the bulldozer. As soon as the young operator saw the Bordentown fire chief’s emblem on Tripp’s SUV, he got down off his machine. “Hi, Judge Masters,” he said, greeting Tripp with a nervous smile. “What brings you here today?”
“Hi, Dave. How’s the family?” Tripp replied as he scanned the pile of debris created by the dozer. “What are you guys doing here? The court put a hold on the BMI project.”
“My boss told me to bring the Cat here this morning and knock down what’s left of the Old Main. Am I in trouble?”
“No, but he may be. There’s no building department permit for this work.”
“He told me someone from P&Z left him a voicemail that the permit had been issued and mailed to him, but it was okay to start without waiting for it. That happens here all the time.”
“Does he know who called him?” Tripp asked, fearing that the answer would somehow connect to his nephew.
“I’ll ask him when I check in at my lunch break.”
“I think you’d better do it now, Dave, and tell your boss what I told you.”
“Okay, I’ll call him right now, Judge.”
Tripp walked back to his car and called Chord on his cell. There was no response so he left a message, but he felt uncomfortably certain he knew the answer without asking the question. If Chord, as chairman of P&Z, had issued a building permit with knowledge of the temporary injunction, it was a major abuse of power and his nephew was in for some serious criminal penalties.
Tripp’s next call was to Beth Swahn. He told her what he had seen and pointed his finger at Gartenberg, leaving out the part about Chord’s possible involvement. Then he texted several photos of the scene to her.
Coincidentally or not, the dozer was gone within the hour, but not before it had blocked one of the tunnel entrances with a massive pile of debris from the Old Main.
Chapter 31
Beth called Judge Mooring’s chambers, related what Tripp had told her about the dozer at BMI, and described the photos he had sent. The judge instructed Beth to file a contempt of court motion against Gartenberg and to notify his attorney by phone and email.
Beth called Tripp first and told him. “Judge Mooring is really pissed. She wants me to file a contempt of court motion against Gartenberg, and she wants it done yesterday.”
“I’m not surprised,” Tripp replied. “She doesn’t like anyone violating her orders.”
“I need you to sign an affidavit of merits for me to use in support of my motion. Tell the court what you saw at BMI this morning.”
“Judges shouldn’t be signing affidavits, Beth. You know that. We’re not supposed to be witnesses.”
“I do know that, Tripp, but this is different. You were there. You’re an eyewitness and you took the photographs.”
“Let me think about it. I’ll get back to you….”
Her next step was to call Zeke Shadenheim. She left a detailed message. Gartenberg personally called her back and insisted he didn’t know anything about the dozer. Nevertheless, in accordance with Judge Mooring’s instructions, Beth began to draft her motion to punish him for contempt of court.
After she was finished framing out the motion, she made a list of the civil and criminal penalties she would ask the court to impose on Gartenberg and printed out a hard copy of the draft. She walked it down to Mel Bergeraque’s office for a review by his litigation department and went back to her office.
It was now late afternoon and she was ready to close up shop and head home. Instead, she forced herself to review a contract for a 3-D printer she wanted the firm to buy. She stared at it, but felt her eyes closing. She tried to concentrate on the terms, but the setting sun streamed in through her office window, bounced off her framed Player of the Year award, and exploded straight into her eyes
Fortunately, the ringing of the phone restored her to consciousness. She checked the caller ID and picked it up.
“Hi, Beth, it’s Pam Gartenberg.”
“Pam. How are you?”
“Not bad, considering.”
“I’d settle for that on some days.”
“Until I was awarded possession of our house, it was like an armed camp around here, but then Herb moved out and it’s been heaven ever since.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that.”
“The reason I called is to ask if you know when that BMI deal is scheduled to close. I don’t want to ask Herb.”
“I don’t know, Pam. No one’s told me anything yet.”
“Herb’s talking about chartering a plane for me to fly us down to the Caribbean after the closing. He wants to spend a month or two island hopping on our sailboat.”
“Sounds like he’s trying to make peace with you.”
“It makes me nervous.”
“How come?”
“He’s invited Lance to come along.”
“Not much of a vacation then.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Do you think you guys may give it another try?”
“I don’t know. Herb wants to move back in.”
“You going to let him?”
“My attorney wants Herb to first set up a ten-million-dollar bank account in my name so that if he ever gets rough again, I can move out and go back to Israel if I want.”
“Pam, I don’t think you can put a price tag on a broken nose.”
“You’re right, but I can handle him. It’s Lance I’m more concerned about.”
“Oh, great!”
Chapter 32
Beth sensed the upward trend before she saw the actual numbers. Despite a wet and soggy January, partners were working later than ever and leaving with smiles on their tired faces. The bookkeeper merely confirmed it. She prepared a schedule of monthly comparisons showing that new clients were creating a steady increase in income. Beth knew, from the identity of the new clients, that the trend was a collateral benefit of her court success against Gartenberg.
Most of the new clients were from families of BMI alumni. The Alumni Association had a number of wealthy foreign families who needed attorneys to guide their business operations and help manage their assets in the United States.
What Beth couldn’t know was what would happen to this flow of new business if Gartenberg backed out of the BMI deal as a result of her victory. That was X, the unknown, and she could only surmise about it. Time would tell.
Part of the answer came in later that afternoon when she got a phone call from Chord Masters.
“Beth, it’s Chord. I just got an email from Zeke Shadenheim.”
“Why? Is Gartenberg threatening to walk on the deal because the court granted our conservation easement?”
“Actually, just the opposite. He wants to close two weeks from Thursday,” Chord replied.
“So soon? How much of a price reduction did the Smythe estate have to give him on the Old Main parcel?”
“None. He didn’t even ask for one.”
“That seems a little strange, doesn’t it?”
“I guess he thinks he’s going to get the Supreme Court to reverse the decision.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it. Anyhow, what’s the closing date?”
“He’s looking to close February 16.”
Beth pulled up the calendar on her laptop. “That’s the day before Presidents’ Day weekend. Why screw up a holiday?”
It was more of a comment than a question.
“I spoke with F.X., and it’s okay with him.”
<
br /> “Chord, it’s none of my business, but having a real estate closing before the start of a long holiday weekend is not a good idea. When is the dry run?”
“No dry run. It’s just a waste of time.”
“There’s a lot of money involved here.”
“Do you plan on attending?”
“Haven’t decided. Our conservation easement attaches to the Old Main property whether the sale closes or not.”
“Well, I’ll let you know about the time and place for the closing anyway as soon as we set it up.”
“What about Gartenberg’s construction loan? Is he going to close that on the same day?” Beth asked, still trying to alert a sense of caution in Chord.
“I guess so.”
“You might want to ask him.”
“It’s not my first closing,” Chord replied defensively.
“I know that, Chord, but something smells. If the seller was my client, I’d refuse to close just before a three-day holiday weekend when the banks and the county clerk’s office will all be closed.”
“I handled Gartenberg before, and I’ll handle him now.”
“I’m surprised his bank will even close a construction loan just before a holiday weekend.”
“That’s not my problem,” Chord replied. “Our contract doesn’t depend on his getting a construction loan. I don’t even know what bank he’s using.”
“I do,” Beth volunteered. “He’s using the United Bank of the Caribbean.”
“He told you?”
“No, last month they called me a few times to discuss my subdivision objections.”
“Why would an offshore bank even consider a construction loan in New Jersey?”
“The Pendayan family is probably a big customer of theirs,” Beth replied.
“Do you think the Pendayans are personally guaranteeing the loan?”
“I have no idea,” Beth replied.
“Well, I guess we’ll know soon enough.” Click followed by silence.
“Always good to chat with you, Chord,” Beth muttered into the dead air.
* * *
—
After Beth got off the phone with Chord, she argued with herself for a while, going over the pros and cons of attending the BMI closing. When that didn’t resolve anything, she walked down the hall to Max’s office and started to discuss it with him.
“Max, what bothers me is that we have no client in the game,” Beth said. “We have no business being at a closing where we don’t represent the buyer or the seller.”
“By the way, what’s this business of having the closing the day before a three-day holiday weekend?”
“I already went over that with Chord. It got me nowhere.”
“I told Tripp we’d look over Chord’s shoulder,” Max insisted. “Gartenberg will find some way to screw the Smythe estate.”
“Chord’s not incompetent, you know; he’s just lazy. The title insurance attorney will keep an eye on everything.”
“Look, it’s your call, but I think you should go.”
“I’m concerned about putting our firm under legal liability if anything goes wrong at the closing and we’re there. Everybody will point a finger at us as soon as they learn Chord’s malpractice insurance was canceled months ago.”
“Unfortunately, that’s a valid point,” Max replied.
They were still arguing about it over wine at dinner. Sean and Andi were at the table with them. They listened, and occasionally threw in their two cents. At the end of the meal, Beth was still undecided.
Chapter 33
Beth decided to make the most of the Presidents’ Day weekend. The first thing she did was announce that the office would be closed on Friday and Monday to make it a legitimate four-day weekend for the entire firm. Then she found a Holland America cruise to nowhere that left from Pier 59 on Thursday and returned on Monday. There were several last-minute cancellations so she grabbed an outside cabin and texted the details to Sean.
They boarded the cruise ship with one sacred promise to each other: No business was to be discussed. Not one word! Oh, and no laptops, either. Then they spent four days of complete rest and recreation, cruising to Bermuda and back, just being with each other. All too soon, it was Monday and they were back in the city.
Beth got into the office early on Tuesday and began to go through the pile of email that had accumulated over the long holiday weekend. She was still working on Saturday’s in-box when her private line rang.
Beth saw Chord’s name on the caller ID, debated herself briefly, and decided to pick up the phone. “Hi, Chord. How’d the closing go?”
“Gartenberg’s gone!” His reply was pitched somewhere between distraught and hysterical.
“Gone as in ‘dead’?” she asked, halfway between sarcastic and hopeful.
“Don’t know. Nobody knows where the hell he is.”
“Did the deal close Friday?”
“I thought so at the time.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“He scammed everybody. He paid for the property with nonexistent funds wired from some bank in Antigua. It turns out that its only assets are a corporate seal and a routing number.”
“Didn’t you check the bank before delivering the deed?” Beth felt like she was admonishing one of her second-year associates.
“The title company sent an attorney, and I trusted him to handle those details. I was busy dealing with all the closing adjustments.”
“So when did you get this ‘good’ news?” She resisted the urge for an “I told you so.”
“My bank called an hour ago to tell me that Gartenberg’s check for my fee bounced, then the title company called to tell me the funds Gartenberg wired into their trust account were bogus. He also filed a phony mortgage in the county clerk’s office right before the closing.”
“Sounds like you’ve got a real problem. What did your client say?”
“I haven’t told F.X. yet.”
“You probably should call him, and then the FBI. There’s all kinds of crimes involved.”
“The bank said they already notified the FBI.”
“But don’t you think the FBI should have a record that you reported it to them directly?” A little CYA might be a good idea for you.
“Okay. What else do you think I should do?” His tone sounded more like a plea for salvation than a request for assistance.
“Might want to call Tripp.” I know I’m going to talk to Max.
Chapter 34
Beth got off the phone with Chord and walked down the hall to Max’s office. She knocked on his door and walked in without waiting for an invitation. Max saw the concerned look on her face and knew all was not right in their world.
“What’s up, Beth?”
“We need to talk.”
“Can it wait? I have a lunch date with a potential new client.”
“Unless she’s the president of General Motors, I suggest you postpone it.”
“What’s this about?”
“Gartenberg.”
“Was there a problem with the BMI closing?”
“You might say. Gartenberg closed the deal with rubber checks and took off with all the Pendayans’ money.”
“Okay, spot me five minutes while I cancel lunch and look for a couple of antacid chews.”
“Save a couple for me. We’ve got a major problem on our hands.”
“Why should this day be different from any other?”
“Because Mom and I are Lutheran and because it’s not Passover yet.”
* * *
—
“Special Agent in Charge Sean Harris.”
“Hey, Sean. Do you have some time to meet with me and Max this afternoon?” Beth asked.
“Is the subject matter Gartenberg by
any chance?”
“You heard already?”
“Laura brought me up to speed. I know she wants to speak with you, too.”
“Suppose Max and I come down to your office at three to fill you in. Would that be okay?”
“It’s fine with me, as long as it doesn’t interfere with our dinner date at seven. I’ll ask Laura to join us.”
“Good. See you at three o’clock…and again at seven.”
Chapter 35
The minute Carlos Pendayan learned about the BMI fiasco, he booked a flight to New York in order to retain a law firm to help them unravel the mess and protect their family interests. The first appointment he made was with Beth and Max.
He landed at JFK on the flight from Caracas and came straight into the city for his afternoon meeting. When he arrived at the office, Max asked Elias Strauss to greet his old BMI classmate and show him into the conference room.
Max entered the firm’s conference room a few minutes after Carlos arrived, took his place at the head of the table, and traded BMI memories with Carlos and Elias while they waited for Beth. When she entered, Max introduced her to Carlos, and Elias excused himself from the meeting.
Carlos then began: “I’m here because Herb Gartenberg has created major problems for us.”
“I think that’s pretty clear,” Max replied.
“He’s stolen thirty-five million dollars,” Carlos continued.
“And he’s also given the Smythe estate the right to sue you for breach of contract on the BMI deal,” Beth added.
“Has a suit been started yet by the estate?” Max asked.
“No, but we want your firm to defend us when it’s brought. We also want you to sue Gartenberg for the recovery of our thirty-five-million-dollar investment.”
“I’m not clear on something,” Beth said.
“And what is that?” asked Carlos.
“Who will be our client if we agree to a retainer?”
“The Pendayan family. We’re the ones that made the investment.”
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