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Authors: Kenneth L. Levinson

Tags: #Mystery, #Adam larsen, #Murder, #Colorado

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BOOK: A Knight at the Opera
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"Sure," I said. I stood up. "Just give me a call if and when you're ready."

"I'll do that." She reached into the Gucci bag. "How much do I owe you?"

"For now, nothing. Let's wait and see if you actually need my services."

She stood as well, and offered her hand. "Thank you, Mr. Larsen."

I escorted her down the hall to the reception area. The scent of her expensive
perfume filled the air around her.

When she had been whisked away by the elevator, Diana commented, "She looks
expensive."

"No doubt she is," I agreed. "Somehow, I don't think we'll ever hear from her
again."

"Really? What did she want?"

"I'm not sure. On the face of it, she was making arrangements for a possible
problem with her husband's business partners. I had a vague feeling she was digging for
something. But, to paraphrase Dr. Freud, sometimes a banana is just a banana."

She said, "Maybe so, but in either case, I would say, look carefully before you
take a bite."

I laughed. "There's an interesting thought."

I spent the rest of the day dealing with emails and paperwork.

CHAPTER FOUR

Tuesday morning, I met with a new divorce client and, later, an elderly man who
had collided with a light rail train and wanted to sue the RTD. Unfortunately, he had waited
too long and the statute of limitations had expired. And from the way he described the
incident, it sounded like it was his fault.

I had to tell him I couldn't help him.

Somewhere around three-thirty, the intercom on my desk sounded and Diana's
voice came over the speaker phone. "Adam, Joyce Markowsky is calling for you."

"Really? I'm surprised."

"You shouldn't be. She sounds distressed. Damsels in distress are your
specialty."

"Not any more. Maurice has stepped into that role."

"Fat chance," she said. "Line one."

I pressed the button. "This is Adam Larsen."

"Mr. Larsen, this is Joyce Markowsky. Thank you for taking my call." Her voice
was shaky. Diana was certainly right about the distress. "I'm going to need your help, after
all."

I asked, "Has something happened?"

"Yes and no. First, the three partners--Conner, Larry and Guy--all attended the
funeral this morning. After it was over, they and some other people came over to the house.
Most of the talk was about how sorry everyone was about Karl. Nobody mentioned the
circumstances of his death. At one point, I found myself alone with the three of them. I told
them what Karl had in mind about my interest in the accounting firm."

"And?" I prompted, when she didn't go on.

She hesitated and then blurted, "Larry's exact words were, 'no fucking way.' I
hope that doesn't offend you."

"Not the word. His using it does. He sounds like a real charming guy," I observed.
"What did the other partners have to say?"

"Conner looked embarrassed. He doesn't approve of that sort of language. He
told Larry not to be so hasty."

"That sounds promising. And the third one?"

"Guy? He didn't say anything. He seldom does. He just sat there."

"Do you have any idea why this Larry would be so adamant about keeping you
out?"

"No. I was totally taken aback by his response. Other than occasional social
events through the firm, he and I have never had any interaction. I can't think of any reason
why he would dislike me."

"So, how were things left?"

"Conner was trying to play the peace maker. He suggested that we should let the
dust settle and then sit down and talk."

"With or without lawyers?"

"He didn't say. But in light of Larry's reaction, I wouldn't be comfortable meeting
with them alone."

"I don't blame you," I said, "although Larry may think about what he said and
realize that his comment was, shall we say, precipitous?"

"I don't think so. I think he meant exactly what he said."

"What did your husband think of him?"

"Karl wasn't particularly fond of him. He privately referred to Larry as 'the rabid
dog.' The clients don't particularly like him, but he's a nationally known expert in state and
local taxation, so they have to put up with his antics."

"What is his background?"

"I don't know a lot about him. Not about any of them, really. Conner and Larry
are both in their mid-forties. I think they were fraternity brothers of Karl's. Larry has two
adult children, but neither of them will even talk to him. His second wife divorced him a
few years ago. Evidently, it was very nasty."

"I can't imagine why," I commented. "What about Pennington?"

"He's the normal one of the trio. And definitely the nicest of the group. Conner
has been something of a mentor for Karl."

"That's a good sign. What else do you know about him?"

"He and his wife were high school sweethearts. They have two daughters. The
oldest got married last year. There's also a son, who always seems to be in trouble of some
sort. He's supposed to graduate high school in June, although there's some question about
whether he has enough credits"

"What about the third one, Guy Thomas?"

"I hardly know him. He probably started with the firm six or seven years ago.
He's single and reputed to be something of a playboy. Karl didn't really approve of him, but
for financial reasons it made sense to offer him a partnership. My impression is that he isn't
a hard worker, but he comes from a well-connected family. He's brought in some very
important clients. Had he left to join another firm, or start one on his own, Karl's firm
would have lost a lot of business." She heaved a sigh. "What should I do, Mr. Larsen? This is
all too much for me to sort out."

"Well, the first thing you need to do is to get me a copy of their partnership
agreement, so I can find out what's supposed to happen when a partner dies. I'll also need a
copy of Karl's will, so that we can provide proof of what your husband wanted done with
his property. After that, I'd suggest we meet with the three partners and find out how
they're going to handle this."

"That makes sense."

"Good. Now, tell me this: a few minutes ago, you answered 'yes and no' when I
asked you if something had happened. To me, that implies more than one event. Am I
wrong?"

She gave a half-laugh. "No, you're exactly right. And perceptive. Last night, that
police sergeant, I think his name is Stone, called me."

"That's never good news. What did he want?"

"I told you yesterday that the police have been asking about any prescriptions
my husband was taking."

"I remember."

"Well, this Sergeant Stone was asking about a specific one. Something that
sounded like rope-in-all."

I felt my eyes open wider. This was getting interesting. "Could it be
Rohypnol?"

"Yes, I believe that's right. What is it?"

"It's a sedative. The generic name is flunitrazepam. It's the so-called 'date rape'
drug. It makes a person seem drunk and causes partial amnesia. It's sometimes used to
treat extreme anxiety, but not in the United States. It's illegal here. And, in case you're
wondering why I would know so much about something like Rohypnol, someone used it on
a client I represented about five years ago."

Her tone changed, as if she'd smiled. "Thank you for the explanation. But what
on earth would that have to do with Karl?"

I thought it over, remembering what Hal Gross had told me. "I'm guessing that
they found some of it in his bloodstream. Or on his person."

"Are you serious? Things were going very well for Karl. He wasn't suffering from
anxiety. Why would he be taking something like that?"

"That, Ms. Markowsky, is precisely why the police are asking you about it. I don't
suppose you've ever used it."

"Absolutely not."

"Never bought it?"

"No. I would have no idea where to get it, especially if it's illegal."

"Neither would I," I confessed. "But evidently, somebody did. Did Stone ask you
anything else?"

"Yes. It's funny about that. He asked me a lot of questions about the woman Karl
was with at the opera. It was almost as though he was challenging me to prove it wasn't
me."

"Knowing Stone, that's exactly right. From what I read in the
Clarion
, she
generally matches your description. That would be enough for Stone. And once he gets an
idea in his head, you couldn't knock it loose with a sledge hammer. He won't believe there
was another woman unless he meets her and she confesses she was there. I'm sorry to ask
this, but I must. You really have no idea who she was?"

"I don't. Karl and I were basically still newlyweds. He was a mature, stable
individual. He wouldn't be off cavorting with some strange woman."

"You know, something occurs to me. How do the police know he was with her, as
opposed to her just being someone who happened to be sitting in the seat next to his?"

"I don't know the answer to that," she said. "All I know is that this Sergeant
Stone seems to think they came to the opera together. And that I was that woman. I don't
know what to do about it."

"For now, nothing. Let's just focus on Larry and the boys."

"All right. I'll gather up the papers and get them to you. Do you prefer fax or
email?"

"Email is better, with a pdf attachment, so I can convert it into a text searchable
document."

"You'll have them by tomorrow morning. Thank you for helping me. I'm
beginning to feel better about all this."

I was glad she felt better. I didn't. As I hung up, I found myself wondering what I
was getting myself into this time.

* * * *

The partnership agreement for Pennington, Markowsky, Barbereau &
Thomas was just about what I expected. For the life of me, I couldn't understand why
accounting firms chose to form general partnerships, instead of PCs or LLPs that would
help limit their liability. In a general partnership, each partner was personally liable for the
actions of all the other partners. But far be it from me to criticize their business models.
Maybe there was some tax benefit I didn't know about. The key provisions of the
twenty-two page document were on page fifteen, and they followed the typical pattern of buy/sell
agreements. Upon the death of a partner, the other partners had a right to purchase the
deceased partner's interest in the partnership, based on their existing pro rata partnership
interests. If no partner bought the interest, then the entity itself was required to purchase
the deceased partner's holdings.

Of course, those relatively simple provisions, having undoubtedly been drafted
by a high-priced corporate lawyer, spanned four pages, filled with numerous conditions
and limitations, including a requirement that no person who wasn't a licensed CPA in
Colorado could ever be a partner in the firm. For Joyce Markowsky, that was a key
provision--and an obstacle to her simply taking over her husband's share of the
company.

The gist of it was that Karl Markowsky had no legal right to transfer his
partnership interest to his wife, now his widow. Nor could he force his partners to accept
her as a member of PMBT before she became a licensed CPA.

A couple of alternatives occurred to me as I re-read the document, and I
mentally filed them away for future use.

Markowsky's Last Will and Testament was a simpler document, although not by
much. Joyce had been accurate in describing his intentions regarding the disposition of his
estate, including his partnership interest. She had neglected to mention, however,
that--prenuptial agreement notwithstanding--he had left her a house on Glenmoor Drive that had
to be worth well over a million dollars. This was in addition to the two million dollar life
insurance policy.

I had to admit, it had nothing to do with what she was hiring me to do, but it still
seemed odd that she hadn't mentioned it. A professional skeptic like Joe Stone might
construe it as a motive to feed someone Rohypnol and leave him to fend for himself in the
top balcony of an opera house.

When I called the number Joyce had included in her email, she answered on the
third ring.

"This is Adam Larsen. I've gone through the documents. Unfortunately, you can't
force them to take you in as a partner."

The disappointment in her voice was palpable. "I was afraid of that. Are you
saying I should just forget about it? Walk away and--"

"No, you shouldn't just forget about it," I snapped. It came out sounding harsher
than I intended. "They still have to buy you out, which means they owe you one fourth of
the value of the company. Although, given current financial conditions, I'd bet they'll be
hard-pressed to come up with that kind of money. Which could actually work to your
advantage."

"I guess I don't understand."

I smiled, although I knew she couldn't see me. "Let's set up a meeting with them.
I'll show you."

Her spirits seemed to have rebounded. "I'll call them and get back to you. Thank
you."

Just before five o'clock, Diana rang my office. "Joyce Markowsky, line one."

"Thanks." I pressed the button and said hello.

"Mr. Larsen, I think you're on to something. Conner suggested that we meet
tomorrow morning, at ten o'clock, if that works for you."

I glanced at my calendar. "It does. Where is their office?"

"It's down in the Tech Center." She gave me the address. "You know, Conner
actually seemed eager to work this out."

"I'll bet he is. They'd probably love to pressure you into a quick
settlement."

"Well, they'll find that I'm not that easy." she said in a determined tone.

I had a feeling she wasn't. "Perfect. I'll meet you there at a quarter of. Now, let
me explain what I have in mind."

* * * *

Ironically, part of the Denver Tech Center, or DTC as it was commonly called,
was located in Greenwood Village, and not Denver. I knew I had arrived at the offices of
Pennington, Markowsky, Barbereau & Thomas, located on the eighth floor of one of the
many office buildings in the DTC, because of the three foot high PMBT logo painted in the
middle of the wall outside their office suite.

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