“Well, uh, thank you.”
Bruce knew his metamorphosis from romantic rival to reverent suppliant would throw Reese off-balance. He pressed on. “I’m an associate at Stoak, Puck & Beal, and I don’t have much free time, but I’d really like to help out if I can—you know, volunteer work, whatever you need.”
Reese puffed out his chest a bit, nodded. He was still leader of the pack, top dog.
Bruce continued. “As a matter of fact, I invited Laura out for a drink to talk to her about what I could do to help. I’d be honored if you would join us. If you have time, that is, sir.” Normally the “sir” would have been a bit much, but this guy seemed to eat it up.
Reese considered the invitation—Bruce guessed he normally didn’t waste his time socializing with young male lawyers. But Reese might figure it wouldn’t hurt to have Laura see the young buck fawning all over him. “All right, perhaps one drink, then.”
Bruce beamed. “That’s great. Just great. Thank you. I’ll grab Laura, and we can go.”
Laura was surprised to see Reese joining them. She was even more surprised at how obsequious Bruce was acting toward him. She eyed him questioningly: Are you the same guy who was so sarcastically self-assured just an hour ago?
One drink led to two, then to dinner. Most of the conversation was spent with Reese—and, to a lesser extent, Laura—regaling Bruce with war stories from the long-running battle between tenants and landlords. Bruce was attentive enough to keep Laura interested—and even flirtatious, to the extent he could be without appearing to be a threat to Reese—but spent most of his time playing rapt audience to Reese’s soliloquy. Finally, over after-dinner drinks, he made his play.
“Hey, Mr. Jeffries—oh, I’m sorry, Reese—was that a true story about some millionaire in Dover stocking his wine cellar?”
“Oh yeah, he’s one of our worst enemies. Wesley Krygier is his name—one of the biggest landlords in the city, and also the leader of the fight to repeal rent control. We almost ruined him last year, but he was able to survive, unfortunately.”
“Oh, I remember. Is that the guy whose son was involved with a transvestite or something?”
Laura spoke. “That’s the one. Reese was nice enough to send some pictures to the Herald. You may have seen them.”
Reese seemed oblivious to Laura’s sarcasm. “Yeah. I really thought that humiliating him would put an end to this little rent control crusade of his. But it actually just made the motherfucker even more desperate. He practically owns the City Council now, all the money he’s given them over the past year. What we really need to do is to break him financially—see, the City Council doesn’t care how much money he gave them in the past, they just care about what he can give them in the future. If they think the gravy train is slowing down, they’ll abandon ship no matter how much he gave them over the years. Then he’ll be lucky if he gets a single vote on this rent control repeal. But until then, he just might be able to pull it off.”
Bruce was quiet for a moment, swirling the ice cubes around in his drink. He interpreted Reese’s mixing of his train and ship metaphors as a sign the wine was doing its job. Bruce spoke softly, intently. “You know, I said earlier that I wanted to help. I may have some information that would be helpful against Krygier.”
Laura eyed him suspiciously, Reese eagerly. Bruce addressed Laura first. “I see the way you’re looking at me, Laura, and you’re right to be a little suspicious. I had an ulterior motive when I invited the two of you out tonight—I wanted to make sure I could trust you enough to tell you what I’m about to tell you.”
Bruce paused, took a deep swig from his drink, then continued. “You two are both lawyers, so you know that what I’m about to tell you is a violation of any number of ethical rules. But I feel strongly that there are issues and matters in play here that take precedence over our ethical rules. So here goes:
“A couple of days ago, a new matter came into our office, and I was asked to work on it. I’ll skip the irrelevant details, but basically a client of ours bought an apartment complex in Boston known as Fenway Place. He bought it from the RTC at one of their auctions. The problem the client is having is that the vacancy decontrol certificates that he has for the property have been altered. The client noticed the alterations immediately, and wanted our legal opinion as to whether or not the certificates would be considered valid in their altered state. Unfortunately for the client, there are no other copies of the certificates, and the back-up documentation has been lost by the Rent Equity Board.”
Bruce took another large sip, then continued. “Well, our conclusion was that they probably were not valid.” He looked at Reese. “I don’t need to explain this to you, since you’re the expert in this area, but there is a presumption under the law that rent control exists; the burden is on the landlord to prove otherwise. The alteration to the certificates makes that proof difficult if not impossible.” Bruce looked to Reese for affirmation, which was given in the form of a sage nod. “Well, I didn’t think much of it until I asked who to bill my time to. The partner told me the name of the client was some offshore corporation, but the client billing identification number he gave me was the same number he had given me for another matter I had worked on just a couple of days earlier. For Wesley Krygier. I double-checked it, and I’m sure.” There was no way that Reese or Laura could know that Krygier was not one of the firm’s clients.
Laura grasped the ramifications right away. “You mean you think that Krygier bought a whole complex that he thought was decontrolled but it’s actually rent controlled?”
“I don’t just think it, I’m almost positive of it.”
“How many units?”
“About 250 all together. Maybe 225 of the certificates have been altered.”
“Holy shit!”
Reese was only a few seconds behind Laura. “You mean Krygier has 225 units that he’s charging market rent for and they’re actually rent controlled?”
“Exactly. I can’t help you anymore than I have, because, quite frankly, I don’t want to get disbarred. But it seems to me that it would be easy enough to independently verify what I’ve told you and you can just leave me out of it.”
Laura jumped in. “Of course. It’s simple. Just have one of Krygier’s tenants challenge the rent. Krygier produces the certificate, then we challenge its authenticity. Then we bring a class action on behalf of all the tenants, challenging all the certificates. Plus we ask for back rent, tripled.”
Bruce noticed a little spittle forming on Reese’s lower lip. “It’s perfect, absolutely perfect,” he exclaimed. “We’ll have the rents rolled-back within six weeks—I can easily have the vote delayed that long. By the first of the year, Krygier will be on the hook for ... let’s see—225 tenants, overcharged by, say, $400 per month, average of two years each ... two million dollars in back rent. Two million bucks! Tripled! Which will wipe him out, and then the City Councilors will have no reason to listen to him. We win. Too good to be true.”
Bruce lifted his drink in salutation. Too good indeed, you schmuck.
* * *
[November 15, 1990]
Bruce waited a full week, then called Laura at the LAP office from the lobby pay phone. Her tone was polite, but distant—she had probably deduced that Bruce’s interest in her had been less than sincere, and her ego was still having a little trouble getting over it. But she couldn’t help but recognize the value of the gift Bruce had given them. Intellectually, at least, she would understood that a bruised ego was a small price to pay to save rent control.
“As a matter of fact, Bruce, we filed an action yesterday in the Housing Court. I expect the landlord will come running in with a vacancy decontrol certificate right away—that’s what they would do if they didn’t doubt the certificate’s authenticity, so that’s probably what they’ll do this time as well. In their mind, to do anything else would just make us suspicious.”
“Sounds logical.”
“And Reese has already started
to draft the class action suit, so that we can file it as soon as we show this first certificate is invalid. We’ve got him by the balls, and he doesn’t even know it.”
“Well, my guess is he’ll know it when you start squeezing.”
“Damn right. I haven’t cut my fingernails in weeks.”
Bruce laughed. “Ow. Well, thanks for the update. And Laura, I really am sorry that I wasn’t completely straight with you last week. Maybe give me another chance someday, after this whole thing blows over?”
Laura made him wait a second for her answer. “Maybe.”
CHAPTER 57
[December 4, 1990]
The message light on Bruce’s home answering machine was flashing. He dropped his overcoat and briefcase, then tapped the play button.
“Hey Bruce, it’s Laura over at LAP. Give me a call when you get a chance. I’ll be at the office late tonight.”
Almost a month had passed since the tenant rally. He had given his home number to Laura and Reese and told them to leave messages if they needed him. It was safer for him, and was consistent with the double agent image he was trying to project. He called her back.
“Just wanted to let you know there’s a hearing tomorrow afternoon over at the Housing Court.” Bruce already knew—he had been checking the court’s docket daily to monitor the progress of the case. “We’ve asked for an injunction to prevent the landlord from collecting market rents until he produces valid decontrol certificates. By the way, I was surprised to see that your firm isn’t representing the landlord.”
“Yeah, me too,” he lied. “I was half expecting to be asked to work on the case against you guys, but for some reason the client used a different firm. Maybe they didn’t like our conclusion that the certificates were invalid. Anyway, mind if I show up at the hearing?”
“Not at all. Two o’clock, courtroom 3, Old Courthouse. See you there.”
* * *
[December 5, 1990]
Bruce took a seat in the back of the courtroom, midway between an open window and a steaming radiator. He listened as a number of minor landlord-tenant disputes were resolved. Then the clerk called the Fenway Place case.
As the party requesting the injunction from the court, Reese spoke first. “Basically, this case involves approximately 225 vacancy decontrol certificates relating to the Fenway Place Condominium complex. Each of these certificates has been altered, the most apparent alteration being a rather obvious change in the date of the certificate from the year ‘1986’ to the year ‘1980’. As we set forth in our legal brief, we believe that this alteration invalidates the certificates. Since the landlord in this case has no other evidence that the units have been decontrolled, and since the law is well-established that the burden rests with the landlord to prove that the units are not under rent control, we feel that this court must, as a matter of law, immediately enter an order enjoining and restraining the landlord from collecting any rents for these units in excess of the rent control rents. In addition, we would ask that—given the uncertain state of the current real estate market, and the fact that this particular landlord is an offshore corporation with no other assets in the United States—given these factors, we are requesting that this court grant a six million dollar attachment on this property as security for recovery by the tenants of the estimated rent overcharges, tripled, at this property over the past several years.”
The attorney for the landlord stood to respond, but the judge motioned him to sit down. “Mr. Jeffries, how are you so certain that this alteration from the year ‘1986’ to ‘1980’ was an alteration at all, as opposed to, say, a clerk correcting some innocent ministerial error?”
“Fair question, your Honor. And the answer is simple. If you notice, these certificates are signed by three Rent Equity Board Members—Ramon Cordero, Anthony Testa and Eleanor Oldham. We have checked the public records, and neither Mr. Cordero nor Ms. Oldham were members of the Rent Board in 1980. All three, of course, were members in 1986. What we believe happened here, your Honor, is that a prior landlord altered these certificates to the earlier 1980 date to avoid paying rent overcharge rebates to tenants. For example, a tenant arguing overcharges for, say, 1984 or 1985 would be entitled to rebates under a scenario where the vacancy decontrol certificates were issued in 1986, but would not be so entitled under a scenario where the certificates were issued in 1980.”
“So you believe the certificates were altered by a prior owner of the property?”
“It’s really the only plausible explanation, your Honor. Not only would a prior owner have cause to do so, but who else could possibly have had an opportunity to make the alterations? Presumably, custody of the certificates has always been with the owner of the property.”
The judge nodded, then turned to the attorney for the landlord. “Counselor?”
“Your Honor, allow me to begin by emphasizing that nobody—including opposing counsel in this case—is accusing my client of altering these certificates.”
The judge nodded. “Very well, counselor, though I don’t see how that helps your client very much. You do concede, I take it, that the certificates have been altered?”
“It does appear that way, your Honor.”
“Well, it seems to be that I have no choice but to rule the certificates invalid on their face. It is well-established law that an altered document of this type is of no force or effect. Now, my conclusion might be different if your client had any other documentation that could substantiate the validity of the certificates. Perhaps copies that are un-altered, or minutes from the Board’s meetings?”
“My client has been looking, your Honor, but so far we have been unable to find any substantiating documentation.”
“Well, then, I have no choice but to grant the request for injunctive relief. As of today, your client is permanently enjoined and restrained from collecting any rents in excess of the rent-controlled rents for all 225 units. I will leave this matter open and will entertain a motion from you to lift this injunction in the event you are able to submit documentation that somehow re-authenticates the vacancy decontrol certificates. So ordered.”
Jeffries stood to speak. “Your Honor, what about our request for an attachment on the property?”
The judge turned toward the attorney for the landlord. “Is it true that your client is an offshore corporation with no other assets in this country?”
“Um, that is correct, your Honor.”
Jeffries jumped up again. “And the problem, your Honor, is that they refuse to identify the person or persons who are the principal shareholders of the corporation.”
The judge turned back toward the attorney for the landlord and waited for a response. “That is true, your Honor. My client at this time does not wish to disclose the identity of its principals.” Laura turned in her chair and winked at Bruce, then lifted her fingers to display her long fingernails. He winked back.
“Well, it seems that if your client is unwilling to disclose such information, I have no choice but to grant the attachment on the property. Otherwise, how else could the plaintiffs satisfy any judgment that they might eventually obtain? Request for attachment in the amount of six million dollars approved. Next case.”
Bruce slid down the aisle seat and waited as Reese and Laura gathered their things. He smiled at Laura as she approached, and she leaned over to whisper in his ear. “How about a late lunch?” The strong smell of hair conditioner overpowered the faint smells of coffee and cigarettes on her breath.
“Sounds good.”
“Let me lose Reese first. Meet me in the lobby in fifteen minutes.”
Laura had more than lunch in mind, and she made little effort to disguise her intentions. She ordered a pina colada from the bar, gave Bruce a naughty look. “Ever seen this trick before?”
“What trick?”
Laura took the cherry out of her drink, pulled off the stem, and popped the stem into her mouth. A few seconds later, she removed the stem and placed it gently into Bruce’
s hand. She had knotted it with her tongue.
Bruce had been expecting Laura’s seduction. Normally he would reject her advances, but he had recently become increasingly distracted by his memory of Shelby Baskin. Perhaps he needed to relieve some sexual tension. And Laura would be content with a casual fling. “Wow. My next life I want to come back as a cherry stem.”
Laura smiled, and called for the waiter. “We’ve changed our mind about lunch. Could you bring the check please?”
She turned to Bruce, handed him a roll. “Here, eat this. You need to keep up your strength.”
* * *
Laura’s bed was tucked into an alcove of her modest apartment. A lacy curtain separated the sleeping area from the living space. She threw her coat onto the couch, looked at Bruce, and cocked her head toward the bed.
He smiled and removed his jacket. She approached him, tilted her head up to him, and pulled his lips onto her mouth. She opened her mouth and probed his teeth and gums with her tongue, the pina colada now masking the taste of coffee and cigarettes. Lips still locked onto his, she backed him toward the alcove, flicked the curtain aside, and eased him over the footboard and onto the mattress. Bruce opened his eyes to see a silky canopy, illuminated by the late afternoon sun, draped over the four posters of the bed. There was a subtle scent of lavender in the room, and it made Bruce realize that it had been many years since he had shared a woman’s bed.
She stood in front of him, unbuttoned her blouse, and let it drop to the floor. He could see her hardened nipples protruding through her bra, and he reached up and flicked the front clasp. The bra fell to the floor.
“Not bad. Let’s see what else you can do.” Her voice had turned throaty. Two large, firm white breasts rose up and down in concert with her breathing.
[Boston Law 01.0] Unlawful Deeds Page 35