Exquisite Justice

by Dennis Carstens

  Without looking up, Carvelli said, “Yeah, sure, why not?”

  Paul was back in less than a minute and handed Carvelli a bottle. It took him a while to get through the almost forty-page report. He sipped his beer and occasionally shook his head in disbelief. When he finished, Carvelli placed the document on the coffee table.

  “Do you have that picture, the one of the homeless guy, we got for you?”

  “Sure,” Paul replied. He reached down to the floor and picked up a file folder. He found the photo and gave it to Carvelli.

  Carvelli held it up and compared it to print number six. “Did you take print number six and add the makeup, beard, putty, glasses and hat?”

  “I knew you’d ask,” Paul said and then handed a new print across the table.

  Carvelli laid them all out on the table and looked at them for a moment. “It’s him,” he quietly said. “This Charles Dudek guy is the homeless guy hanging around Ferguson.”

  “I think so too and so does the computer,” Paul agreed.

  “Who the hell is this guy? Why does CIA have his military record but not the Pentagon?” Carvelli asked.

  “CIA tried to recruit him when he left the Army,” Paul said. “They purged his military record from the Pentagon and tried to bury it.

  “He turned them down, walked away and apparently disappeared,” Paul said.

  “Did you read this stuff about him going into the caves of Tora Bora after nine eleven? By himself to hunt down Osama? The medals this guy has?”

  “The psych evaluation,” Paul said. “He’s a stone cold, sociopathic killer. I could not find a single Charles or Charlie Dudek that was remotely close to this guy. He’s likely living off the grid under assumed names. He’s smart enough to do that. He could be living anywhere under any name. In fact, he probably is living a quiet, normal life. His neighbors would be shocked if they knew.”

  “Yeah, if he’s been at it since he was discharged. It’s been, what, almost, twenty years?” Carvelli said.

  “Not quite but getting there,” Paul replied.

  Carvelli finished his beer and made a call on his personal phone.

  “Hey,” he said when Marc answered. “What are you doing right now?”

  “I’m still in the office going over the jury list. Why?”

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. I came up with something you need to see.”

  Maddy finished reading the military record of Charlie Dudek and handed the last page to Connie Mickelson. There were four of them, including Connie, in the conference room. Starting with Marc, while Carvelli patiently waited, they were passing the photos and the report around to each other.

  After Maddy finished reading and handed the last few pages to Connie, she said to Marc, “Let me see the photos again, please.”

  Maddy laid them all out on the table. She carefully looked them over and then picked up number six. This was the print of how Paul thought Charlie would look at his age today. She stared at it for a while, then turned it so Marc and Carvelli—both sitting across the table from her—could see it.

  “I’ve seen this guy. I don’t know where or when, but I would swear in court that I have seen him.” Maddy said.

  “Pretty bland, ordinary-looking face,” Marc said.

  “Yeah, that’s true,” Maddy sighed. “But he really looks familiar.”

  Connie finished reading, then neatly put the pages together. She was sitting next to Maddy across from Carvelli and slid the document over to him.

  Connie looked at Marc and in a school girl’s voice said, “Mom, Dad, I’d like you to meet Charlie. Charlie’s gonna take me to the prom. Then, afterwards, he’s gonna suck all of the blood out of my body. Can you imagine this guy showing up at your door?”

  After the laughter died down, Carvelli said, “You know what? I’ll bet this guy never hurt anybody or anything without reason. He wasn’t that freaky kid who liked to pull the wings off of flies just to watch them.”

  “No, that was you,” Marc said.

  “We all have our little quirks,” Carvelli said. “This guy is a professional’s pro. That’s why he is able to operate and live under the radar. He’s not some psycho. He’s likely a sociopath, someone without a conscience. In fact, the army says he has an I.Q. in the one-forties.”

  Connie said, “That still begs the question: what do we do with this?”

  The table went silent while each of them looked for an answer from somebody else.

  “I don’t know,” Marc finally said. “None of this is the least bit admissible.”

  “What if we could link him with someone else? Someone who wanted Ferguson dead?” Maddy asked.

  “Who you got in mind?” Carvelli asked.

  “Tony, I’m just throwing it out there,” she replied.

  “I know. But that’s the problem. If this guy is who we think…”

  “And that’s a mighty big ‘if’, legally,” Connie added.

  “He was hired by someone to pull this off. Who?”

  “Wait a minute,” Marc said. “Let’s break this down. We haven’t been able to get a whiff of the homeless guy. We’ve had people out pounding the streets with his picture everywhere.”

  “We’ve shown his picture to about every homeless person in the metro area,” Carvelli said. “We didn’t even find anyone who thought they might’ve seen him.”

  “That certainly lends credibility to the theory that this Dudek guy is, in fact, the homeless guy pretty much stalking Ferguson. But I can’t identify him as this Dudek guy.”

  “Why not?” Carvelli asked.

  “Lack of foundation,” Connie said. “How did we come to that conclusion?”

  “Well, your Honor, we have a world-class hacker who got into the CIA computers and…” Marc said. “Even if I were still involved with Margaret, she wouldn’t let me get away with that.

  “I do have a legitimate way to get the film in that Gabriella gave us to supply us with pictures of the homeless guy. And we have the witnesses, the girls, to testify they saw him. If nothing else, I can plausibly argue that he picked up the gun and ran off.”

  “Will that be enough?” Maddy asked.

  “Is that reasonable doubt? Maybe. But a gun that only Rob saw? I don’t know.”

  Maddy said. “We need to take another run at that reporter, Philo. I think he’s holding something back.”

  “How do you want to do it?” Marc asked.

  “We can probably think of something,” Maddy replied, then winked at Carvelli.

  “Is this something legal? Or shouldn’t I ask?” Marc said.

  “Almost,” Maddy said. “Or, at least, it should be. Better you don’t ask.”

  “Are you going to put Rob on the stand?” Carvelli asked to change the subject.

  “No choice,” Marc answered. “It’s the only way we can get the missing gun into evidence.”

  “If it’s missing, how can Rob testify about it?” Maddy asked.

  “He’s presumed to be telling the truth,” Marc replied, “as are all witnesses. The benefit of the doubt sort of thing. It’s then up to the prosecution to cast doubt on his credibility. Unless he gets Rob to admit he’s lying about the gun, which he won’t, we can use it. The jury can then decide if they believe there was a gun or not. You can bet every witness Steve puts on will testify he or she did not see Ferguson or anyone else with a gun.”

  “What about their motive? What are they gonna do about that?” Carvelli asked.

  “Racism,” Marc replied. “They’ve been investigating Rob for any sign of it. And, they have several cops, or so we’ve heard, who will testify about locker room talk from the guys who got stuck doing crowd control for this protest. Some of it is pretty graphic and Rob was present. I don’t know if any of them will claim Rob engaged in any of that talk. Steve’s gonna say Rob hated Ferguson and blamed him for all of the racial trouble. Most of the cops did. They were all getting pretty tired of being screamed at, cursed at, called names and spit on.
I haven’t talked to Rob about this yet. I’ve been told who the cops are who are gonna testify to this. I want the jury to see Rob’s reaction.”

  “Well,” Carvelli said, stretching out his arms above his head while he sat, “I need to get going. I’m due at Vivian’s for dinner and business talk.”

  “Mind if I tag along?” Maddy asked. “I haven’t been there for a while.”

  “No, not at all. I’m sure she’d love to see you,” Carvelli replied.

  “Will I be interrupting anything of a romantic nature?”

  “No, I think that’s pretty much done,” Carvelli replied. “We’re still good friends.”

  “Do you mind?” Maddy asked Marc.

  “No, go. I’ll be here probably until midnight, at least,” he replied.

  Forty-Six

  “How’s the opioid business?” Maddy asked. She had left her car at Marc’s office and was riding with Carvelli.

  “Actually, we’ve taken a ton of it off the street. It’s costing Vivian a fortune, but she doesn’t care.

  “The women on my sales list are gradually being weaned off of the stuff even if they don’t realize it. We’ve switched to capsules, and the capsules are half and half; half oxy and half substitutes like Ibuprofen and Acetaminophen. We got that lab in Chanhassen turning them out. My customers are doing pretty good with them.”

  “What are you doing with the proceeds?”

  “Every dime is accounted for and in a safe at Vivian’s. I make a weekly report to Paxton accounting for the money and the product,” Carvelli said.

  “Who do you have doing the switch from pills to capsules? Can you trust them?”

  “Yeah, I got an ex-narco cop in charge. I doubt you know him. Bennie Solo?”

  “No, I don’t know him,” Maddy said.

  “Bennie was undercover a little too long, years back. He developed a taste for crack. Now he’s a crusader. He owns three rehab places. Our place in Chanhassen is in one of them. He has some other ex-cops working with him on this. Bennie keeps better records than I do and because he has licensed rehab clinics, he can order large amounts of the substitute stuff to put in the capsules. It’s used in rehab.”

  “You should go see her. Spend a weekend with her.”

  “Who?” Carvelli said.

  “Who? Paxton, of course!” Maddy said. “Men are so dense.”

  “And that’s our best quality. How’re things with Marc?”

  “Good. Really good. I think I’ve finally met a man who doesn’t spend most of the day thinking about himself.”

  “Stop it. They’re not all like that. What happens is women want fireworks to go off. When it does, it’s all wonderful and fun. Then the fireworks fade, and women start looking for the flaws. And you always find them because they’re always there. Trust me. Marc has them too and I love the guy. He’s a good man and a friend. You can trust him. And he’s a good father.”

  “Are you trying to sell him to me?” Maddy said with a big smile. “You don’t have to.”

  She went silent for a minute and stared out the windshield.

  “I thought you said you don’t know anything about women,” Maddy said.

  “I don’t,” Carvelli replied. “I just know you two were together for a long time before you finally realized you love each other.”

  “That’s not true. I knew long before he did. I just wasn’t ready to admit it.”

  “Listen, sweetie, don’t go looking for flaws and don’t criticize little things that he does. That’s the beginning of the end. Believe it or not, you have flaws and annoying little habits, too.”

  Maddy turned in her seat to face him, slapped him on the shoulder and yelled, “I do not! Name one. I dare you to name just one.”

  “Your obsession with your hair,” Carvelli quickly said. “Not to mention, shoes.”

  “I’m not obsessed with my hair,” she replied. “Much,” she added more quietly. “And shoes are a must. Men don’t get it.”

  “No, we sure don’t. There isn’t a woman I’ve ever been involved with who doesn’t ask my opinion about the shoes they’re wearing.”

  “Vivian?”

  “Constantly. She could be wearing pink high-top Converse sneakers for all I care.”

  The two of them went silent for another couple of minutes. Maddy finally broke the silence.

  “I am a little obsessed with my hair,” she quietly admitted.

  “It’s your one concession to vanity. The rest of you is naturally beautiful and you know it. Hair changes,” Carvelli said.

  Maddy turned again to him and asked, “So, you think Marc knows?”

  “Well, yeah, of course, he knows. He’s asked me a couple of times how much longer he should put up with it before dumping you.”

  Maddy’s mouth and eyes went wide-open before she said, “Really? He’s thinking about breaking up with me?”

  Carvelli could not suppress the laugh for more than a second.

  “No, he worships you. Stop it. He’s never said a thing about your hair or shoes. Although you might want to stop asking him about shoes. Men know nothing about women’s shoes. And those that do have boyfriends of their own.”

  “That’s true,” Maddy laughed. “Okay, no more shoes and watch the OCD about my hair.”

  “He loves your hair. It’s attached to you,” Carvelli leaned over and whispered. “Don’t start looking for flaws or things to criticize. Believe me, you’ll have a tough time finding somebody where the grass is greener.”

  “Okay,” she said. She turned to him again and sincerely asked, “What do men want?”

  “We’re easy. Sex on demand and quiet when there’s a football game on TV, especially when the Vikings are beating the Packers. Just let him enjoy.”

  Maddy, the Chicago girl, asked, “Do I have to be quiet when the Bears are beating the Vikings?”

  “Since that rarely happens, don’t worry about it, but,” Carvelli, a Chicago boy, said, “if it ever does happen, feel free to rub it in.”

  “I’m glad you came!” Vivian let loose at Maddy when she answered her door. They gave each other an affectionate hug.

  “Yes, you too, Anthony,” Vivian said and gave him a brief kiss.

  “Was I looking glum?”

  “That’s his normal look,” Maddy said.

  “Oh, not always,” Vivian replied raising her eyebrows and smiling. “Come in, please.”

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been around much lately,” Maddy said. “Marc’s trial is keeping me busy.”

  “Is it starting on time? Still Monday?” Vivian asked as she led them to the office.

  “So far,” Maddy replied.

  “Come in,” Vivian said. “Let’s get business taken care first before dinner.”

  One of the household staff, a man, appeared while they were still in the hallway.

  “Hello, Thomas,” Carvelli said. “How’ve you been?”

  “Good, sir, thank you,” the man answered.

  They each gave him a drink order and then went into Vivian’s office. A few minutes later they had their beverages and Vivian told Thomas when they would be ready for dinner.

  About forty minutes later, Vivian and Carvelli were done wrapping up that week’s drug business. Tony gave his share of the proceeds to Vivian who placed them in a safe inside the office credenza. As she did this, Tony showed Maddy a ledger listing the amount of money Vivian had spent. She was buying up oxy from Damone and storing most of it for disposal. What little they did sell were the ones cut with Ibuprofen to wean Carvelli’s customers off of it.

  “That’s how much of your own money you have spent on this?” an incredulous Maddy asked.

  “I lost a favorite niece to this and her boys lost their mother. I don’t give a damn about the money. We’re getting drugs off the street and we’re going to put some bad people in prison.”

  “’Atta girl,” Carvelli said.

  “Be careful you don’t go with them.”

  “Everything is bein
g well-documented and kept by Anthony’s good friend,” here Vivian winked at Maddy, “Paxton O’Rourke. I’m famished, let’s eat,” Vivian said.

  Half-way through dinner, Carvelli’s phone rang. Vivian gave him a very disapproving look, but he answered it anyway.

  “Hey, kid, what’s up?” he asked, avoiding Vivian’s glare.

  “How busy are you tonight?” Gretchen Stenson asked.

  “Why, what do you need?” Carvelli asked.

  “I hate to ask…”

  “I owe you, don’t worry about it,” Carvelli replied.

  “Okay, I got a date tonight, ten o’clock, and I’m supposed to meet him in the bar of the Frontier Room. You know it?”

  “Of course,” Carvelli said.

  By now, both Maddy and Vivian had stopped eating and were watching and listening to Carvelli.

  Carvelli covered the phone with his hand and quietly said, “Gretchen,” to the two women.

  Vivian immediately, but quietly, asked, “The prostitute?”

  Carvelli nodded an affirmation and smiled when he heard Vivian say to Maddy, “This could be good.”

  “This guy is new,” Gretchen continued. “I got introduced to him by a regular I trust, but this guy makes me feel a little creepy. You know what I mean?”

  “Sure,” Carvelli said.

  Vivian leaned to him and mouthed the word ‘what’ at him with an eager look in her eyes.

  Carvelli covered the phone again and quietly said, “Stop it,” back to her.

  This exchange caused Maddy to start laughing and say to Vivian, “You are so bad. Shame on you!”

  Vivian moved away from Carvelli and said to Maddy, “I’ve never known a prostitute before. At least none that I know of. I’ve met her. She’s terrific. Reminds me a bit of you.”

  “Thanks,” Maddy sarcastically replied.

  “Where are you and who are those people in the background?” Gretchen asked.

  “I’m having dinner with Vivian and Maddy. You’ve never met Maddy. Anyway, what do you need?”

  “Forget it. I don’t want to impose.”

  “Shut up. I owe you. You want me to come and watch your back?”