“And I suppose your knowing Diesner in Chicago was also a lie,” I said.
“He lives in legend. But I’ve never met the man.”
“And I suppose your coming to see me in Richmond was a setup, too, wasn’t it?”
I fought back tears.
Refilling our wineglasses, he replied, “I wasn’t really driving in from D.C. I’d just flown in from New York. Sparacino sent me to pick your brain, find out everything he could about Beryl’s murder.”
I sipped my wine, silent for a moment as I tried to regain my composure.
Then I asked, “Is he somehow involved in her murder, Mark?”
“At first that worried me,” he answered. “If nothing else, I wondered if Sparacino’s games with Harper had gone too far, if Harper had gone haywire and murdered Beryl. But then Harper was murdered, and as time went by, I failed to pick up on anything that would make me think Sparacino was connected with their deaths. I think he wanted me to find out everything I could about Beryl’s murder because he was paranoid.”
“Was he worried the police would have gone through her office, that maybe it would come out that her royalty statements were fraudulent?” I asked.
“Maybe. I do know he wants her manuscript. No question of its value. But beyond that, I’m not sure.”
“What about his lawsuit, his vendetta against the attorney general?”
“It’s generated a lot of publicity,” Mark replied. “And Sparacino despises Ethridge, would be delighted if he could humiliate him or even run him out of office.”
“Scott Partin has been down here,” I informed him. “He was down here not long ago asking questions about Beryl.”
“Interesting” was all he said, taking another bite of steak.
“How long have you been connected with Sparacino?”
“More than two years.”
“Lord,” I said.
“The Bureau set it up very carefully. I was sent in as a lawyer named Paul Barker looking for work, looking to get rich quick. I went through the moves necessary to make him hook into me. Of course he checked me out, and when certain details didn’t add up, he finally confronted me. I admitted I was living under an assumed name, that I was part of the Federal Protected Witness Program. It’s convoluted and difficult to explain, but Sparacino believed I had been involved in illegal activities in a former life in Tallahassee, had gotten nailed, and that the Feds had rewarded me for my testimony by fictionalizing my identity and my past.”
“Had you been involved in illegal activities?” I asked.
“No.”
“Ethridge is of the opinion that you have been,” I said. “That you’ve also served time in prison.”
“I’m not surprised, Kay. The federal marshals tend to be very cooperative with the Bureau. On paper, the Mark James you once knew looks pretty bad. A lawyer who crossed over, was disbarred, and spent two years in the pen.”
“Am I to assume that Sparacino’s connection with Orndorff & Berger is a front?”
I asked.
“Yes.”
“For what, Mark? There must be more to it than his publicity scams.”
“We are convinced he has been laundering money for the mob, Kay. Money from narcotics trafficking. We also believed he is tied in with organized crime in the casinos. Politicians are involved, judges, other attorneys. The network is unbelievable. We’ve known it for quite a while, but it’s dangerous business when one part of the criminal justice system attacks another. We had to have admissible evidence of guilt. That’s why I was sent in. The more I uncovered, the more there was. Three months turned into six, and then it became years.”
“I don’t understand. His firm is legitimate, Mark.”
“New York is Sparacino’s own little country. He has power. Orndorff &. Berger knows very little about what he does. I’ve never worked for the firm. They don’t even know my name.”
“But Sparacino does,” I pressed him. “I heard him refer to you as Mark.”
“Yes, he knows my real name. As I’ve said, the Bureau was very careful. They did quite a good job of rewriting my life, of creating a paper trail that makes the Mark James you once knew someone you wouldn’t recognize, much less like.”