Page 153 of Precise Justice

“They’re here,” Ryan told him.

“Be right out,” Marc replied.

Without bothering to put on his suit coat, Marc went out into the reception area. Sitting in client chairs were Robbie and Blake Craig. They had called to make an appointment to pay his bill personally.

“Hi,” Marc said. “Robbie, how are you doing?”

“Good, Marc. I’m so grateful to you, I can’t tell you.”

“I did what you paid me for,” Marc said. “Come on in.”

Once inside Marc’s office, Robbie and Blake took the client chairs, Marc behind his desk.

Blake removed a folded, personal check from his wallet and handed it across the desk to Marc.

Marc took it, looked at it, satisfied he said, “Thank you. I appreciate the prompt payment.”

“You deserve it and more.

“I have a question for you,” Blake said. “What about the life insurance money. After I confessed in court, will they want it back?”

“First of all, no one believed you, especially me. As far as the insurance companies go, I doubt they’ll come after you.

“Even if they did and you paid back every penny, because of the acquittal, the insurance would have to pay it to Robbie. At this point, they don’t care.

“As for you two, I suggest you move, far away. Belize is nice. Better yet, the Maldives, an island country in the Indian Ocean. Beautiful beaches, sun and clean water. And, best of all, no extradition treaty with the United States.”

“Why are you saying these things?” Robbie asked.

“Did you think that little charade would fool me? You didn’t fool anyone.

“Don’t worry, I’m bound by attorney client privilege. Even if I called the police and told them, they couldnot use it against you at all. Double jeopardy.”

Marc stood up; an obvious move intended to end the meeting.

“I meant what I said. Move, far away and tell no one, especially me. I don’t want to know.”

Marc looked at both of them while saying, “And don’t call me again. I won’t represent you.”

“I’m sorry, Marc,” Robbie sadly, sincerely said.

“So am I, Robbie. So am I. Good luck.”

They were gone and Marc was back at his desk, the door open. He was turned around facing the open window behind him. A beautiful spring day with a forecast of rain later.

“Knock, knock,” he heard Maddy say. He spun around to find her and Connie coming in. At Marc’s request, actually he had suggested, Maddy doesn’t take being given orders well, she stayed in Connie’s office while they were here.

Maddy came around the desk, bent down and kissed him.

“Tell me something,” Maddy said moving back to sit down. Connie was lighting up a heater by her personal window smoking section. “When did you know?”

“When Tony found the jewelry those kids hocked over in St. Paul. Three black teenagers did not rob a house in Minneapolis, murder the sleeping owner then hock part of the take to a pawn shop in St. Paul.”

“Tony and I talked about the same thing,” Maddy said.

“You did a great job for him,” Connie said.

“Then why do I feel so shitty?” Marc asked.

“Because there are no winners here,” Connie replied.