Found Money - James Grippando [100]
“Your Honor, our first witness is the petitioner, Elizabeth Duffy.”
Ryan did a double take. No wonder she hadn’t looked at him.
The judge scooted forward in his chair. “Another word of caution,” he said in a lecturing tone. “You may call your client to the stand, Mr. Jackson. But bear in mind that I have allocated only forty-five minutes for this hearing. I don’t intend to sit here and listen to everything that was wrong with the Duffys’ marriage. That is for another day. Keep the testimony limited to the issue in this hearing—that is, was Dr. Duffy involved in the attack on the petitioner’s lawyer, and should a restraining order be imposed against Dr. Duffy to prevent any further attacks.”
“Your Honor, I have one limited area of testimony I would like to cover with Mrs. Duffy. I promise it will take only a minute.”
“Proceed.”
Ryan watched carefully as Liz took the oath. She was dressed sharply in a Chanel suit. Either she’d sold her car or somebody had been fronting her some wardrobe money. She seemed nervous as she slid into the witness box. She still wouldn’t look at him.
“Ms. Duffy, please state your name.”
“Elizabeth Frances Duffy.”
“And you are married to the respondent, Dr. Ryan Duffy, correct?”
The judge interjected. “Let’s move it along. We can all stipulate they’re married, she wants a divorce, blah, blah, blah. Get to the heart of the matter.”
“Ms. Duffy, did you know Frank Duffy?”
“Yes, very well. Frank was Ryan’s father. He died of cancer just two weeks ago.”
“Did you have any conversations with him before he died? Specifically, any conversations about money?”
Norm sprang to his feet. “Objection. What does that have to do with the issues just framed by the court?”
“Your Honor, I would ask for a little latitude. If I fail to tie it all together with my next witness, you can deny my motion, hold me in contempt of court, and throw me in jail.”
“This I can’t wait to see,” said the judge. “Proceed.”
“Ms. Duffy,” said Jackson. “Did you have any conversations with Frank Duffy about money?”
“Yes. We spoke on the telephone about two weeks before he died.”
“Give us the gist of that conversation, please.”
“Objection, hearsay.”
The judge grimaced. “Isn’t it enough that Mr. Jackson said I could throw him in jail if he didn’t tie this together? Overruled.”
Liz lowered her eyes, speaking softly. “Frank knew that over the years, Ryan and I had many disagreements over money. He always wanted me and Ryan to stay together. So, in this last conversation, he told me to hang in there. He said money would come soon.”
“Did he tell you how much money?”
“No.”
“Did he do anything to identify any specific funds?”
Liz looked up, glancing briefly at Ryan. Then she looked at her lawyer. “Yes.”
Ryan felt a chill—more like a stabbing sensation. He recalled his conversation with Liz out on the front porch the night of the funeral. She hadn’t mentioned this.
Jackson continued, “How did he identify the funds?”
“He gave me a combination.”
“You mean for a lock?”
“Yes. He didn’t say what it was for exactly. It was a very short conversation. He just, you know, intimated it had something to do with the money. He told me to check with Ryan. He would know.”
“What was the combination?”
“Thirty-six–eighteen–eleven.”
“Thank you, Ms. Duffy. That’s all for now.”
Liz rose slowly. Ryan watched, stunned. The numbers were right on. It was the exact combination to the briefcase in the attic. Dad had given her the combination. Not him. Her.
The judge looked across the courtroom. “Mr. Klusmire? Any cross-examination?”
Ryan caught his lawyer’s eye. They could read each other’s minds. This was dangerous territory. The FBI did not yet know about the two million dollars in cash in the attic.