Lake Tahoe, Nevada - Saturday, July 1, 1995 3 Days Prior . . .

Lake Tahoe, Nevada

Saturday, July 1, 1995 3 Days Prior . . .

SANDY STEERED HIS OLD-MODEL SUBURBAN DOWN THE LONG DRIVE OF the Stamos family’s cabin, turned left, and crossed the bridge that curved over the gorge behind the property. He wound his way through the circuitous mountain roads until he found Highway 67, where he headed south and bypassed the exit for Cedar Creek. He was headed to Lake Tahoe.

The Fourth of July holiday made traffic nightmarish, and it took over two hours for him to reach Incline Village on the north side of Tahoe. He found an offshoot road named Beverdale Trail and slowed at each house he passed. The address he was looking for was scrawled on a scrap of paper and taped to the dashboard. When he spotted the numbers on the mailbox, he pulled into the driveway.

“Sandy Stamos!”

Sandy heard the voice of his old friend just as he was opening the driver’s side door.

“Tom Quinn,” Sandy said with a smile. “It’s good to see you.”

Sandy had grown up with Tom Quinn. Unlike Sandy, Tom had hightailed it out of Cedar Creek and Harrison County as soon as he could. He attended college in Los Angeles and now made his home in the small, East Bay town of Danville. He had a vacation home in Lake Tahoe and had agreed to meet Sandy there for an urgent matter.

The two men embraced in a hug before Tom pushed Sandy away by the shoulders.

“Damn, Cedar Creek must be treating you well. You look good, old friend.” Tom wrapped an arm around Sandy’s bicep. “You’re built like a brick shithouse.”

“Working hard,” Sandy said. “You look good, too. And this house! It’s gorgeous.”

“Thanks. Elaine and I love it out here.”

“Thanks for having me out, and for doing this on a holiday weekend. I’m in a pinch or I wouldn’t have asked.”

“Not a problem. Come on inside. We’ll sit on the back deck. It’s got a great view of the lake.”

A few minutes later Sandy was sitting with his childhood friend and staring down at Lake Tahoe over towering pines that lined the mountainside. They each drank cold Sierra Nevada Pale Ale.

“You weren’t kidding,” Sandy said, taking in the view. “I’m impressed.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

Tom Quinn had studied finance and accounting at USC, and spent ten years on the government’s dole running audits for the IRS before entering the private sector to open his own financial planning firm. Tom Quinn had the sharpest financial mind Sandy knew, and Sandy needed his help.

“So what’s going on in Cedar Creek that’s got the sheriff asking for favors from a finance guy?”

Sandy smiled. “People come and go but Cedar Creek never changes.”

Tom nodded. “That means you’re bumping heads with the Margolis clan.”

“Trying not to, but can’t seem to avoid it in this particular case.”

“What’s going on?”

“Earlier this summer, one of the partners at Margolis and Margolis was killed in what appeared to be a hit-and-run accident on Highway Sixty-seven.”

“Appeared to be?”

“This stays between you and me, but it looks like someone actually hit the guy in the back of the head with a baseball bat and killed him first, then put him in the road and ran him over with a car.”

“Damn. What has that hellhole turned into?”

Sandy pulsed his eyebrows. “It gets better. The car that ran the already-dead Margolis and Margolis partner over was registered to Preston Margolis’s new wife.”

Tom Quinn whistled. “You’ve got yourself a shit show.”

“Don’t I know it. But, wait, there’s more.”

“You sound like an infomercial.”

“Yeah, well, this last bit is why I called you. The Margolis and Margolis partner who was killed was named Baker Jauncey. A couple of days ago his legal investigator paid me a visit. A guy named Marvin Mann. He told me Baker had sniffed out financial fraud at the Margolis law firm and recruited Marvin to look into it. The next day, Baker was dead.”

“And his investigator thinks he was killed because he was looking into the Margolis firm?”

Sandy nodded. “And here’s the kicker. The night before he was killed, Baker gave Marvin a thick file of documents he had extracted from Margolis and Margolis, detailing the financial fraud. Jauncey was a partner, so he had all the access he needed if he was looking in the right places. He gave the files to Marvin for safekeeping and was dead the next day. Marvin shared the files with me. I’ve looked through them but I’m not a finance guy. I can’t make heads or tails out of them. I need you to take a look and explain to me what’s going on at Margolis and Margolis.”

“I sniffed out a lot of scams during my years at the IRS. Let me have a look.”

“I’ve got the full file stashed in a safe deposit box because I’m not taking any chances with it. But I made photocopies of what I believe are the relevant parts. I’ve got everything in my car.”