Marc Kadella Legal Mysteries Vol 1-6 (Marc Kadella Series)

by Dennis Carstens

  “I have to call collect,” Carl said.

  “Yeah, I know,” Marc said wryly. “Cheap assholes won’t even let you make a local phone call. Anyway,” he continued rising to leave, “I’m going upstairs now and talk to the cops and maybe a prosecutor. I’ll try to find out what’s going on. Soon as I know something, I’ll be back. Probably this afternoon. In the meantime, just hang in there. And talk to absolutely no one. Especially the other inmates. The cops will try to put someone in with you to get you to talk. Try to get you to say things they can use against you. No matter what, you keep your mouth shut to everybody. Until this thing is over, I’m the only one you get to talk to. Understand?”

  “I got nothing to say to anybody anyway,” Carl answered.

  “Well, just be careful.”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Jake stared vacantly through the small window above his kitchen sink, watching the rain and wondering why it always rained on weekends in Minnesota. Especially Saturdays. Or maybe it just seemed like it. He finished the cigarette he was smoking, crushed it out in the ashtray on the counter and tossed the last remnants of the coffee he had been drinking into the sink. Reaching across the sink he opened the window and was immediately hit by the cool, moist air that came pouring into the small kitchen. He leaned on the sink breathing in the fresh air for another minute or so while continuing to watch the rain and gave his mind a moment of rest. Wondering, after twenty-three years of being as straight as any cop on the force, how he had gotten himself tangled in the web he found himself?

  Jake walked back to the small kitchen table, the one he had picked up with four slightly beat up chairs at a garage sale, sat back down in the chair he had used for the past three hours and for at least the tenth time, went over the list he had made. In the early morning quiet, he had taken paper and pencil to chronicle the events of the previous few months, a case review technique he had developed over the years. Placing special emphasis on the time since he crashed his car and saw his brother lying on the sidewalk under the streetlight, he again reviewed his notes and what was still needed.

  Satisfied that he had not overlooked anything or left any loose ends to tie up, he carried the pages into the bathroom, tore them into small pieces and flushed them down the toilet. As he watched the last of the pages swirl away, his thoughts turned to Carl Fornich, a twinge of guilt creeping into his consciousness. “Too bad pal,” he thought. “Someone had to take the fall and it made no sense to sacrifice Danny and everything he has accomplished. What good would it do those women or anyone else?” “Besides scumbag,” he said aloud to himself, “you’d end up back in the slam sooner or later anyway.” At that moment, the telephone rang snapping him out of his reverie and he hurried from the bathroom to take the call.

  “Yeah, Waschke,” he said into the mouthpiece.

  “Jake, it’s me, Danny,” he heard his brother say.

  “Hey guy. What’s up?”

  “Are you busy now?” Daniel asked.

  “I have some things to do but nothing that can’t wait. Why? How’re you doing, anyway?”

  “I’m fine. Or, at least okay. Dr. Lester thinks the meds will level me out. It’s just the stress and everything. I’ll be fine now, Jake,” Daniel said, his voice just above a whisper.

  “Good, Danny. Just stay cool and it’ll all work out. Trust me. Okay?”

  “Sure Jake. Anyway, the reason I called, the governor would like to see you this morning. Say in half an hour, at ten?”

  “Yeah, I guess I can,” Jake said looking at his watch. “Why, what’s he want?”

  “He wants an update on the case. The arrest and everything.”

  “I shouldn’t do that Danny. You know it’s not kosher.”

  “Jake . . .” Daniel began to protest.

  “I know,” Jake said cutting him off. “It’ll be okay. I’ll do it. Where?”

  “The mansion. Come around the back. I’ll look for you and bring you in myself.”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  A few minutes before 10:00 on this wet Saturday morning, Jake pulled into the driveway of the Governor’s Mansion on Summit Avenue in St. Paul. He drove through the overhanging, granite carriage entrance and parked his department issued car in the back of the old house. The rain had almost stopped during the trip over the river from Minneapolis, but just as he stepped from the car the skies began to open up. He ran the short distance to the back door and looked up to see his brother opening it for him as he jumped up the stairs.

  “How’s things? Everything good?” Jake said to the smaller man as he placed a gentle hand on Daniel’s cheek.

  “Better now, Jake,” Daniel softly said looking up into Jake’s eyes.

  “How’s he doing?” Jake whispered.

  “About as good as can be expected,” Daniel answered with a shrug. “I think it helped that an arrest was made,” he continued as he began leading Jake down the hallway. He led the way up a couple of flights of stairs into the family living quarters and took him into a nicely furnished den. Standing at the window, his back to the door, was Daniel’s boss, casually dressed in a shirt, slacks and a light maroon and gold sweater with the University of Minnesota logo above the left breast.

  The governor turned from the window as Daniel closed the door and the corners of his mouth went up into a slight smile as he walked over to Jake with his hand outstretched. Jake was immediately struck by how much the familiar face had aged in the past two months. Still tall, fit and handsome, the full head of hair was noticeably grayer and the face more lined and sagging, especially around the eyes. Obviously, the man was still not sleeping well.

  “Thanks for coming, Lieutenant,” Dahlstrom said while the two men shook hands. “You mind if I call you Jake?”

  “Not at all sir,” Jake replied as Dahlstrom led him to a sofa and took the opposite chair.

  “Now, I know this is irregular,” Dahlstrom began. “Frankly, I don’t give a damn. I asked you here, of course, to give me an off-the-record rundown, or update if you will, on your case.”

  “I know, Governor,” Jake said somberly as Daniel took the seat on the sofa next to his brother. “I thought about it on the way over and I guess I won’t tell you anything you’re not going to find out anyway.”

  For the next fifteen minutes Dahlstrom and Daniel sat back and listened while Jake ran over the murder at Powderhorn Park, the tip from Hobbs, the arrest and search of Fornich’s apartment.

  “What about the evidence?” asked Daniel.

  “The witness, this Hobbs, he picked Fornich’s picture out and made a positive ID at the lineup. The woman who first called that night, the one that lives along the park, couldn’t positively identify him but she did say he fit the general description. He was the same height and build of the man she saw,” Jake said.

  “What about the knife?” asked the governor.

  “We got the results back from the lab yesterday morning. Traces of blood from two of the victims was found. So, we definitely have the murder weapon and can tie it to Fornich,” Jake answered.

  “Whose blood?” asked Dahlstrom.

  “Not your daughter, sir. I’m sorry.”

  “Anything else. Any other evidence?” Daniel asked quickly when he saw the brief flicker of a pained expression in the governor’s eyes.

  “We have a semen sample from one of the other victims. We’re going to have to go to court to get permission to draw blood for a DNA test. His lawyer’s already made that clear.”

  “Who’s his lawyer?” asked Daniel.

  “Guy by the name of Marc Kadella,” Jake answered looking back and forth between the other two men.

  “Do you know him?” Dahlstrom said looking at Daniel.

  “No, sir. Never heard of him,” Daniel said. “No, wait, I think I met him recently when I was at dinner with Gordon Prentiss. If it’s the same man. Don’t know anything about him though. I’m surprised one of the local heavies didn’t get this case.”

  “They tried, believe me,” said J
ake. “They were all over the jail trying to get at this guy. I don’t know how Kadella beat them to it. I know him a little bit. Seen him a few times. Seems to know his business.”

  “What is the status of the case now?” Dahlstrom asked.

  “He’s been charged with two counts of second degree intentional murder. That’ll hold him for now. The case will go to the Grand Jury on Monday for first degree indictments on all of the Hennepin County victims. Six counts. He was arraigned on the second degree charges yesterday and bail was set at two million,” Jake said.

  “Will the Grand Jury indict?” asked the governor.

  “The Grand Jury will do whatever the prosecution tells them,” Daniel answered. “Indictments are almost meaningless because of that,” he added.

  “Anything else, Jake?” Dahlstrom asked with a friendly look.

  “No, sir. That’s about it for now. We’re still digging. Going over everything the guy owns with a fine tooth comb to try to find more physical evidence to tie this guy to these crimes.”

  “What do you think? Is what you have enough for a conviction?” Dahlstrom asked.

  “Who knows, Governor,” Jake shrugged. “You never know what a jury will do. “

  “What about you, Jake,” Dahlstrom said. “Do you think this is the guy who killed all of these women, including Michelle?”

  “Yes, sir. Oh yeah, absolutely. The pattern is too distinctive. Yeah,” he continued, “we got the right guy, I’m sure of it.”

  “Well,” Dahlstrom said rising from his chair. “Thanks for coming over.” As Jake stood up to leave the governor said, “And Jake, I’d appreciate being kept informed. Not just because I’m a father of one of the victims, but because I’m the governor of this state. We need to get this behind us. Well,” he continued, “I’ll let Daniel show you out. Thanks again, Jake.”

  A few minutes later, having shown his brother out, Daniel re-entered the room where all three men had conversed. The governor was patiently waiting for Daniel’s return. After Daniel had returned to his seat on the sofa, Dahlstrom said, “We need a friendly judge handling this case.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing,” Daniel replied nodding his head in agreement.

  “Anybody in mind?”

  “Well, sir, how about Gordon Prentiss? You remember him, I’m sure. One of your first appointments.”

  “Oh, sure, I do remember him. Was a partner at Baker, Finch and Prentiss. Isn’t he a friend of yours, Daniel? Kind of an arrogant ass, as I recall.”

  “Well, sir, he’s not really a friend of mine. I went to law school with him and see him socially on occasion. And yes, he’s an arrogant ass. But I think he’d know what to do without having to be told. He’s not much for criminal rights, I can tell you that.”

  “Hmmmm, kind of new to the bench” Dahlstrom said lightly tapping an index finger against his lips. “Anybody else?”

  “I don’t really know many judges in Hennepin County, sir,” Daniel answered. “Besides, most of them will run for cover when this case gets assigned. Prentiss, with his ego, will love it. The media attention and everything.”

  “Okay, Prentiss it is,” said Dahlstrom as he sat forward, “Here’s what we do. You get a hold of Harold Jennrich, he’s the Chief Judge over there. Find him today if possible. He owes me. Anyway, get him over here. Also, call Prentiss and get him over here too. Not at the same time, but he needs to know he’s going to take this case.”

  “What if he refuses?”

  “Then we pull the plug on all of the business his former law firm does for the state. Don’t worry, he’ll play ball. I have to see Jennrich to make sure we get this case assigned to Prentiss. Don’t worry. I’ve known Harold for years. He’ll help us out.”

  “Okay, Governor,” Daniel said as he rose from the sofa and headed to the door. “I’ll get right on it.”

  THIRTY-SIX

  After leaving the Governor’s Mansion, Jake pulled on to Summit and drove west toward the Mississippi to get back to Minneapolis. The quicker route, of course, would be the short run to the freeway and then back to his city but he preferred surface streets. The freeways were a bit faster and at times, more convenient. Also too impersonal. He had always liked the comfort and familiarity of driving through neighborhoods and business areas. Where people actually worked and lived. Jake had always believed it was important for a cop to know his environment and the people and places in it.

  At River Road he headed north past the bluff where he had first confronted Daniel then took the same route back across the river that he had taken after that troublesome meeting. The rain continued to come down in intermittent amounts and the quiet of the car’s interior was disrupted only by the thumping of the windshield wipers. Setting a cadence for the thoughts that disturbed him as he drove to his luncheon rendezvous.

  After parking behind the single story strip mall and running through the rain, he entered the rear door of his destination, a mom and pop pizzeria. After allowing his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the darkness, he took a booth across the room from the entryway.

  Jake ordered coffee, checked his watch and settled in to wait for his lunch companion. He had selected this particular place because of its privacy and more importantly, because it was not one of the usual haunts for members of the department. The last thing he needed was to be seen with the person he awaited. “Are you ready to order?” he vaguely heard a voice next to him say. After a few seconds he heard the voice repeat the question, which finally brought him back to reality and answered,

  “Oh, um, no. Ah, I’m waiting for someone. Sorry.”

  “That’s okay. Just let me know when you’re ready,” the pretty, blonde, pony-tailed teenager said. Jake watched her as she turned and hurried away to a different table in the semi-crowded restaurant. They’re getting younger all the time, he thought. No, he continued to himself, that’s not the problem. They’re not getting any younger, you old goat. You’re thinking too much, he continued changing his thoughts back to the subject that had so distracted him. You made your decision and it was the right thing to do at the time. Don’t start second guessing yourself. Besides, it’s a little late at this point.

  Jake looked at the front door as Marty Hobbs came in, looked around for a moment and headed toward Jake’s booth as Jake leaned slightly out of the booth flicking his left hand in a brief wave to catch Hobbs’ attention.

  “Hey, Jake,” Hobbs said quietly as he slid into the booth opposite Waschke. “How you doing?”

  “I’m good, Marty,” Jake replied. “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m cool, dude. No problems. How’d I do the other day, anyway?” he said with a broad grin on his face.

  “You did just fine,” Jake answered nodding somberly. “Especially, the business about the guy’s clothes.”

  “What about the guys clothes? I don’t remember it.”

  “Somebody asked you what the guy was wearing. Remember? You handled it real well.”

  “Oh, yeah. Now I remember. Didn’t I just say I didn’t notice? I thought they were dark or something like that, right?”

  “Yeah. You did fine. Listen, that’s why I wanted to meet you today,” he said, then stopped when the smiley teenager came back to the booth. Jake ordered a pizza for them to share and after the waitress left to place their order, said to Hobbs, “First, we have to be real careful. We can’t be seen together at all.”

  “That’s cool. I understand. No problem.”

  “And,” Jake continued, “as far as the clothes go, just stick to the dark clothes. We have another witness, an older woman, who saw him but can’t identify him. But she did say he was wearing dark clothes. So, if we can find some clothes that we can tie to the crime, you can always identify them later.”

  “How?”

  “Just say you thought about it and remembered. It’s not that big a deal. You’re doing fine. Don’t worry. Just stick to your story that you got a good look at the guy’s face. That’s the main thing. O
kay?”

  “Sure, Jake.”

  “It’s best if we just keep it simple. The more complicated your story gets, the harder it will be to keep it straight.”

  “Yeah, right. I get it,” Hobbs said nodding his head in agreement.

  “That reminds me,” Jake continued. “I drove by the spot on Chicago where you saw him, this guy Fornich, on my way here this morning. There’s a streetlight on that side of the street located just right for us. Right in front of the third house from the corner. Maybe a hundred, hundred-twenty feet from it.”

  “Yeah, I figured there probably was one somewhere along there,” said Hobbs flashing the toothy grin again.

  “Listen,” Jake said as he leaned forward on the table, pointing an index finger at Hobbs, “this is serious shit. Don’t get cocky. Keep it simple from here on in. Got it?”

  “You’re right, man,” Hobbs agreed. “I’ll be cool. No problem.”

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  “What exactly are you trying to tell me, Mr. Kadella?” Judge Eason sternly said looking directly at Marc. It was 9:05 A.M., on the Monday following Carl Fornich’s arrest and Marc was standing uncomfortably in front of Eason’s bench to receive the judge assignment for the case. Steve Gondeck, whom Marc knew fairly well, stood next to Marc, his hands casually held together in front, silently enjoying Marc’s momentary discomfort. “Are you the defendant’s lawyer or not?” Eason asked.

  “Well, um, I, ah,” Marc stammered shifting his weight back and forth between his feet. “I haven’t actually been paid yet, your Honor.”

  “Well, Mr. Kadella, you know the rules, I assume. While I may personally sympathize with your situation, I need to know now. In or out?” Eason said as he continued to look at Marc.