Morales marched up to the podium. “The people ask that bail be denied as Mr. Beaumont is a flight risk. Additionally, given the number of people hurt, the prospects of continued future harm if he’s released, and his prior history-”
“Your Honor, I object!” Beckett exclaimed, shooting out of his chair. “Mr. Beaumont has no prior convictions. Innocent until proven guilty, Your Honor.”
“You are correct, Mr. Beckett, and you may appeal my ruling if you wish,” the judge said in the same measured tone she used from the moment Corbin and Beckett arrived. “I’m going to deny bail. Get out your calendars, counselors. This case will be heard by Judge Sutherlin. Trial will be February 1. Pre-Trial is set for January 30. Expert disclosures no later than thirty days prior. Judge Sutherlin will send out an order identifying all other dates. Any questions?”
“Your Honor, there is another matter,” Beckett replied, signaling Corbin to rise.
“Ah yes, your pro hac vice motion. Granted. Is there anything else?”
“No, Your Honor,” both Beckett and Morales said.
“Next case: People v. Sterling.” The entire proceeding took less than a minute.
As Corbin and Beckett gathered the file from the table, the two deputies replaced Beaumont with another orange-jumpsuited suspect and a new defense attorney appeared behind Corbin and Beckett, ready to take over the table. Before Beaumont left, Beckett promised to visit him that day or the next.
Neither Corbin nor Beckett spoke until they were a little over a block from the courthouse, too far to be heard through any open windows.
“February?” Corbin blurted out. “Whatever happened to speedy trials?”
“Beaumont waived his right to a speedy trial at the arraignment.”
“I thought that was the arraignment?”
“He was officially arraigned twelve hours after his arrest, he just didn’t enter a plea at that time. That’s why we had to go back today.” Beckett pulled the file from his briefcase. “Can you work your magic on this?” He handed the file to Corbin.
“Yes, but you and I need an understanding.” They stopped walking. “I need your assurance you won’t do anything without telling me first.”
Beckett looked at Corbin strangely, as if he didn’t quite grasp Corbin’s meaning.
“I’m serious, Evan. I need to know that I can trust you.”
“What are you getting at?” Beckett sounded confused, hurt and somewhat offended.
“What do you think I’m getting at? You call me from out of the blue to tell me about this,” Corbin said testily, waving the file in Beckett’s face, “and that you signed up to represent this guy without ever consulting me? Then you tell me you’re planning to turn yourself in?!”
“I won’t turn you in,” Beckett interrupted. “You have my word. If I have to turn myself in, I’ll go down alone.”
“I don’t think that’s possible, Evan. If you turn yourself in, you’ll implicate me as well.”
“I won’t.”
“I want to be told before you do anything.”
“Of course, I’ll tell you,” Beckett said sincerely.
“Anything,” Corbin stressed.
Beckett nodded his head. “I will, I swear.”
Corbin stared into Beckett’s eyes, trying to assess his veracity. Beckett shrugged, as if to say he had nothing else to offer, and he awaited Corbin’s response.
“All right,” Corbin finally replied. “But I want to see the wallet. I want to make sure it doesn’t have anything that can lead back to me.”
“What wallet?”
“The wallet, the one you took.”
Beckett shrugged his shoulders and wrinkled his brow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about? I never took a wallet.”
“You’re telling me you didn’t keep one of the wallets?”
Suddenly, Beckett’s jaw dropped and his eyes became huge. “From Philly?” he gasped. “Those wallets? I didn’t keep anything, I swear.”
“Then where did it go?!”
“I don’t know, I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t have any wallet. I never kept anything.”
“So if you turn yourself in, you’re just going to confess? That’s what you’re telling me?”
“Yes. What did you think I was going to do?”
“You’re not holding any evidence you plan to offer to back up your story?”
“I don’t have any evidence,” Beckett replied. His eyes looked at the ground. “I don’t even have the money anymore.”
Corbin recoiled. “What happened to the money?!” he all but screamed.
“I gave it away.”
“To who?!”
“It doesn’t really matter. It’s gone.”
Corbin ground his teeth and his eyes burned a hole into Beckett’s skull.
“I couldn’t keep it,” Beckett admitted. “It was tearing me apart. It was. . it was wrong.”
“Is there anything else I need to know?!” Corbin asked through gritted teeth. His fists clenched.
“I’ve told you everything.”
“Fuck, you better have! This money isn’t going to show up at trial, is it?”
“I don’t see how.”
“What about the wallet?”
“I don’t know anything about a wallet!” Beckett insisted. Beckett looked around and noticed for the first time that people were walking past them. “You know, maybe we shouldn’t be arguing about this here, on the street.”
They returned in bitter silence to the Tribune Building.
Chapter 26
The conference room, like the rest of the Tribune Building’s seventh floor, had been renovated. Yet, the room still smelled of cigar smoke from the days when newspapermen occupied every inch of the building. One wall of the conference room was lined with books. A Rockwell-like painting of a Tribune paperboy hawking newspapers hung on another. Three windows peered down onto the grayish streets seven floors below.
Corbin spread Beaumont’s file out across the oak conference table. Being a fraud case, a so-called “paper case,” the file contained significantly more evidence than the typical criminal file. Not only were there the usual witness statements and forensics reports, but the file also contained a vast array of bank and credit card documents, copies of checks, and dozens of receipts, along with a raft of evidence related to Beaumont’s prior run-ins with the law. Corbin took copious notes. After an hour of digging through the file, Corbin emerged from the conference room to find Beckett. Beckett’s office was small, but relatively modern. His personal effects were scattered throughout the room.
“I know how they caught our boy,” Corbin stated.
Beckett closed the file he was reading.
“It looks like Beaumont operated an identity theft ring,” Corbin continued. “He was stealing credit cards and checkbooks from mailbox stores. Then he used the checks and credit cards at local stores. Sadly for us, he robbed one of our boxes.”
“I thought you cleared all those out?”
“We did at first. We emptied every box completely, and I accounted for every check and credit card we were expecting. But we never went back to collect monthly statements. It’s possible Beaumont used those to order more checks or maybe some bank sent free checks without telling us? I don’t know. We used the starter checks, and we never ordered regular checks. If a whole new set of checks showed up a few weeks later, we never would have known.”
“I guess it doesn’t matter how he got them?”
“No, not really,” Corbin agreed. “At this point, they’ve charged him with about a dozen bad checks on our accounts and about two dozen bad checks on accounts that aren’t ours. They also charged him with stealing three identities we used to open the accounts and with a weapons charge.”
“They’re up to something with the weapons charge,” Beckett suggested.
“Could be. It seems out of place and there’s not much about it in the file. What’s interesting is they could have charged him with a lot more. I’m not sure why they didn’t. If he’s convicted on all counts, he’s only facing five years max if they run everything consecutively, two if they run everything concurrently. With time off for good behavior, he’ll be free in either three years or one year. That’s not a lot of time for a guy like Beaumont. He can do that standing on his head.”