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“Something else, Dink. If that money ended up in a drug dealer’s account in the offshore bank, it is very likely that either the IRS or the FBI, perhaps both, has an informant in that bank who will, you should excuse the expression, rat you out. So there is another federal agency you’ll be scrutinized by in the coming weeks and months. I strongly suggest that, in addition to an accountant, you call Herb Fisher and ask him to recommend a criminal lawyer.”
“Dad, let me explain all this.”
“Dink, it’s very important that you not explain it to me, because communication between us is not subject to any kind of privilege, and I could be forced to testify against you before a grand jury or in a court of law. You can explain it to your criminal lawyer, with whom such communication is privileged. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, is there anything else I can do for you today?”
“No, sir,” Dink said, rising. “I’ll go see Herb Fisher right now.”
Marshall watched his son leave and tried not to weep.
60
The evening of Mark Hayes’s party at High Cotton Ideas arrived, and Herbie hired a driver and picked up Marshall Brennan on his way there.
“No date tonight, Herb?” Marshall asked.
“You’re my date tonight, Marshall. How are you?”
Marshall sighed. “I’m afraid Dink may have gotten himself into some new trouble. Did he call you?”
“No, I haven’t heard from him since he stopped by my office for a drink last week.”
“I was afraid of that. He’s going to need a criminal lawyer.”
“What has he done?”
Marshall explained about Dink’s half-million-dollar error in judgment.
“That doesn’t sound good,” Herbie said.
“What scares me is that the money might already have been paid to a drug dealer, and that Dink may be taking delivery of something that could get him life in prison.”
“I understand your concern, Marshall, but I can’t pursue this with him unless it’s his idea. I hope he’ll call me, and if he does, I’ll do everything I can to help him out of this mess.”
“Thank you, Herb.”
They arrived at the High Cotton building and drove into the garage, then took the elevator to the penthouse apartment. Herbie was stunned when the doors opened to a huge living room, beautifully designed and furnished. Everyone, even Mark’s young colleagues, was in black tie, and the women were gorgeously dressed.
James Rutledge, the architect, came to greet them. “Good evening, Herb, Mr. Brennan. Your son arrived a few minutes ago.”
“Thank you for telling me,” Marshall replied.
“Jim, you’ve done a spectacular job on this place, in an amazingly short time,” Herbie said.
“There are half a dozen design writers here tonight,” Rutledge said. “ Architectural Digest has already committed to a multi-page spread on both the offices and the house. Be sure and see the upper floor.”
“Will do,” Herbie replied. He and Marshall got drinks and wandered around the room. Herbie spotted Dink, there with a beautiful girl, and so did Marshall, but neither made a move to speak to him.
Stone Barrington walked over with Marla Rocker in tow. “Hey, Herb.” He swept an arm. “See what you have wrought.”
“I’m terribly impressed with myself,” Herbie said, and everybody laughed.
Mike Freeman joined them. “Hello, Herb.”
“Mike, how are you?”
