She glanced up at Marc, lightly tossed the magazine onto the coffee table from where it came and stood to greet him. As he came up to her, his right hand extended toward hers, he straightened to his full height, threw his shoulders back, contracted his stomach muscles and found himself vainly hoping his hair wasn’t too tousled.
“Hello,” he heard her say as their hands began to touch. “I’m Maddy Rivers.”
“Marc, um, Kadella,” he managed to croak as he took in the perfect smile, the sparkling blue eyes and shoulder length brown hair with auburn highlights. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said as he noticed in her two-inch heeled pumps she was as tall as he was.
“Me too,” she said pleasantly. “Tony told me all about you. He really likes you and I didn’t know Tony liked anyone.”
“Cynical ex-cop,” Marc answered as they released each other’s grip. “Come on in,” he said, regaining his composure as he pointed toward his office door. He followed her into his office, pausing to whisper to Carolyn as Maddy took a seat, “You could’ve warned me.”
“And miss that? Not a chance,” she whispered back as she closed the door behind him.
“I don’t mean to be offensive,” he began as he landed in his chair behind his desk, “but you’re not exactly anyone’s idea of what a private investigator looks like. I mean, well, Tony. Now he looks like a private investigator. But you, well…”
“I’m not offended,” she said laughing. “In fact, I did some modeling when I was younger. Before I joined the Chicago PD.”
“You were a cop in Chicago?” Marc asked seriously.
“Yeah, almost six years.”
“What happened? Why’d you quit?”
“Who said I quit?” she answered pleasantly. “In fact, I guess I did quit. Or at least was forced to. I posed in PLAYBOY.”
“Really?” Marc said, his eyes widening.
“Yeah, really. About three years ago. I thought it’d be fun. You know. Very flattering and all. It was about the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.”
“I can just imagine,” Marc said shaking his head. “I can imagine what you had to put up with afterwards from the little boys on the police force.”
“Exactly.”
“No offense, Ms. Rivers . . . “
“Maddy” she corrected him.
“Okay, Maddy. No offense but what were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t, obviously,” she said laughing her delightful laugh.
“Say, um,” Marc said, shifting his eyes around the room as if someone was watching. “You wouldn’t happen to have a copy of that particular magazine would you?”
“Find it yourself you lech,” again with her laugh.
“Maybe we better get down to business before it gets any warmer in here,” Marc said smiling.
“Good idea,” she answered.
“You may have guessed what case I need you for,” Marc began.
“I assume the serial murder case. Tony told me a bit about it.”
“Right. Anyway,” Marc continued, “what I want you to do first is start doing a background on my client. I need somebody to do some leg work on him. Try to track down his whereabouts on the nights of these murders.”
“Looking for an alibi,” she interjected.
“And I need you to do some of the preliminary work on the other side’s witnesses. Especially this one,” Marc said as he pulled a single sheet of paper from a file folder on the desk. “Martin Dale Hobbs,” he continued as he handed the sheet of paper to her across the desk. “Here’s a list of their witnesses, so far. Hobbs is at the top. Name, address what little I have on him.”
“You want me to interview him?”
“No, not yet. We’ll see about that later. For now, just get me as much background on him as you can. Tony can help you with some of that. Maybe with any arrest records and such. Find out anything and everything you can. This is the guy we’ve got to discredit at trial so nothing about him is inconsequential. The more we know, the better.”
“Which do you want me to do first? This Hobbs guy or your client, Fornich?” She asked.
“Fornich,” Marc answered. “He should be easier. We can get all the help we need from him.”
“I’ll need to see him.”
“No problem. We can run down to the jail today and get you started. Now, about your fee...”
“Case like this is going to take a lot of my time,” she began. “I’ll need a twenty five hundred dollar retainer. I’ll bill you at one twenty five per hour plus expenses.”
“Okay,” Marc said swallowing hard. “That’s about what I expected,” he added as he pulled his office checkbook from a desk drawer.
“Let’s go meet Mr. Fornich,” she said as she slipped the check into her small handbag. “By the way, how long do we have? How long before trial?”
“Probably six weeks or so. We haven’t set a trial date yet but Carl wants to get out of jail. He doesn’t want to sit there for months waiting for it so, I’ll push for an early trial date. No later than mid-August.”
“Not much time,” she said.
“No,” Marc said with a shrug. “But I’m not sure I want to give the cops more time to come up with more evidence. So we’re going as soon as we can.”
“The prosecution won’t like that either,” she said. “A case like this they’ll want plenty of time to prepare.”
“And play the media for attention. Slocum’s up for reelection next year. He’ll want to play this one for all he can. You want to ride down to the jail with me or follow me?” he asked as he rose to leave.
“I’ll follow you,” she answered.
FORTY-FIVE
Saturday evening Marc found himself walking from the driveway to the front door of Margaret’s house, guilt gnawing at his conscience for not seeing her for almost two weeks. In fact, he had difficulty finding time to return one or two of her calls. When he received the ‘Get Well Soon Card’ from her the day after the hearing for the blood test request, Marc took the hint, called her and made the date he was now walking toward, a peace offering of a dozen roses in hand. Plus she had offered to make dinner and the prospect of spending the night with her had easily overcome a slightly guilty conscience.
“Well, hello stranger,” she said when she opened the door after deliberately letting him stand in the early evening July steam bath for a full three minutes.
“I was beginning to wonder if you were home,” he answered, not bothering to conceal his annoyance as he handed her the flowers.
“Is it still hot out there? Let me put these in water. Come on in and mix us a drink,” she said over her shoulder as Marc stepped through the doorway.
“Boiling. Still in the 90’s,” he answered as the dry, air conditioned air surrounded him. “Nice in here, though.”
He went to the bar and fixed two highballs, very light. As he turned around, drinks in hand he almost ran into her as she stood staring at him, arms folded across her breasts, head slightly tilted to one side with a stern look on her face. He waited a moment for her to say something, expecting an admonishment for his recent neglect. He looked her up and down, casually dressed in a white light summer blouse and navy blue shorts and sandals.
“I’d almost forgotten how beautiful you are,” he softly said as he held out a glass to her.
“Nice try, buster,” she said without changing her stance or expression as she took the proffered drink from him.
“Are we going to fight tonight?” he asked as he stepped forward and slipped his arm around her waist.
“Maybe,” she answered doing her best to act indifferent to his attention. “Then again, maybe not,” she said as he kissed her softly on the neck and pulled her close.
“It’s not like I’ve been seeing another woman,” he whispered softly into her ear.
“Great. He’s been ignoring me for a serial killer. Somehow, I’m not sure that’s better.”
“Accused,” he said smiling down at her. “I have missed y
ou and I am sorry,” he added.
“Let’s eat. I’m starving and you’re late,” she said as she gently broke away from him and began walking toward the dining room. “We’ll see how good a boy you are before I decide if you get to spend the night.”
“And how horny you are,” Marc muttered under his breath.
“I heard that,” she said laughing.
“So, how’s the case going?” she asked as they began to eat.
“Okay, so far. We had an evidentiary hearing the other day on some pretrial motions. The prosecution has a semen sample from one of the victims and they want DNA testing. I asked for bail and a change of venue. Prentiss ruled on all of it from the bench. They get their blood test, bail and venue denied. I expected both so no big surprise.”
“You going to get your own blood test?”
“Yeah, I suppose I better. Risky though.”
“Why?”
“Because if their’s turns up negative and mine positive that could be interesting. We’ll see.”
“Where are you having it done?”
“Place in Wisconsin. It’ll take a couple weeks. Then I’ll have to find an expert to discredit their test if it turns up positive.”
“You know any?”
“Not really.”
“Let me know. I can get you a list. I know a couple good ones. Expensive though. You seem tired.”
“I am a bit,” he answered as he gently took her right hand and lightly kissed it. “I am glad to see you. I’ve missed you,” he added.
“I’ve missed you, too,” she said. “You could call once in a while. It would be good for you too. To have someone to talk to. This case is going to eat you up otherwise.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said as he released her hand and continued eating.
“How’s business?” she asked.
“Sucks,” came the one-word reply. “Practicing law is a damn tough way to make a living.”
“I know,” she answered soberly. “Every day I see it in my courtroom. Lawyers who are all struggling. Too many of them out there. Every day I’m thankful I don’t have to deal with it anymore. Did you get your money from the IRS case yet?”
“Nope. Not yet. Talked to her yesterday. Same old bull. Should be along any day now. As soon as the solicitor general signs off on the appeal etc. blah, blah, blah.”
They spent the rest of the evening laughing, talking and simply enjoying each other’s company. The comfort of two people being together without pretense or concern. It was the best night Marc had had in several weeks, especially once they had exhausted the topic of Carl Fornich. Of course, he spent the night and they fell asleep, naked in each other’s arms.
At six the next morning the phone on the nightstand next to the bed rang startling them both awake. Margaret answered it and Marc heard her tell the caller that he was there.
“It’s Connie Mickelson,” she whispered.
“Connie?” Marc asked, surprised, as he took the phone from her. “Yeah,
Connie, Marc here. What’s up?”
“Sorry to bother you, Marc. Apologize to her Honor for me. I just got a call from our answering service and thought I’d better find you ASAP. Your boy, Fornich, he’s been taken to the hospital. Assaulted and beaten by other inmates.”
“Shit,” was all Marc said as his head fell back on the pillow.
FORTY-SIX
Marc stepped through the hospital elevator doors the instant they opened wide enough to permit it and was immediately confronted by a crush of media people. He took two steps into the hallway, stopped and held up a hand to quiet the horde before he began the impromptu press conference on this early Sunday morning. Minicam lights began to blaze away and after a few moments the crowd settled, waiting for Marc to speak. Finally, one of the local TV reporters, a woman Marc had been interviewed by before, having elbowed her way to the front of the crowd, shoved a microphone in his face and asked, “What is your reaction to the alleged assault on your client?”
“Alleged assault?” Marc responded staring directly at the woman. “Look,” he began, “right now, you probably know more about this than I do. I will say this, my client has been in police custody and presumably under their protection and now, here we are standing in a hospital corridor on a Sunday morning. I don’t know exactly what happened but if you’ll give me a little time, I’m sure I’ll find out and have a statement for you then. Please,” he tried to continue as the throng all started firing questions at him, “let me see my client and then I’ll talk to you,” he concluded as he began to shove his way past the unruly mob.
Marc walked down the hallway in the direction of a small crowd of uniformed and plainclothes police officers milling about in front of one of the rooms. When he got within a couple steps of the door one of the uniforms held up a hand to stiff arm his chest and as Marc hesitated, he heard the voice of Jake Waschke growl at the uniform to let him pass. Without saying a word, he continued on passing through the closed door to find his client lying on a bed with a white coated doctor leaning over him, using a pen light to examine the dilation of his pupils.
“Hey counselor, how you doing?” he heard Carl quietly ask. As he approached the bed the doctor straightened and gave him a quizzical look.
“Marc Kadella, Doctor,” Marc said as he held his hand out to the man. “I’m Mr. Fornich’s lawyer. How is he?”
“On the whole, pretty lucky I’d say. Most of the injuries look a lot worse than they are. A slight concussion and some bruised ribs. A lot of bruising but he’ll be okay,” the doctor answered as Marc stared down at the battered and swollen face that stared back at him, weakly trying to smile. “We’ll probably keep him here for a couple of days, just for observation. It looks like he’ll be all right.”
“Good. Thanks, doctor,” Marc replied. “Could I have some time alone with him now?”
“Okay, but keep it short. He’ll need rest. I’ll check back in a bit. You rest and relax. Just take it easy,” the young man said to Carl as he began to back up toward the door.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Carl said as he weakly waved at the barred windows.
Marc waited for the door to close then pulled a chair alongside the bed, wearily sat down and said, “So, what happened?”
“Not much,” Carl replied through his swollen lips and still bloody mouth. “Couple guys jumped me in the john last night while one of the guards watched the door.”
“What?” Marc asked straightening in the chair.
“Yeah, that’s right, counselor. One of the guards watched the door for them while they worked me over.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah. Why are you so surprised? It happens,” Carl said with a shrug.
“Which guard?”
“Guy named Olson. A real asshole. I’ve seen him around. A real prick.”
“This is bullshit,” Marc hissed, obviously seething.
“Relax, Marc. I’ve been through worse. Besides, good luck proving it. There was me, the two guys who kicked my ass and the guard. Who’s gonna believe me?”
“Who were the two guys?”
“Don’t know them,” Carl answered. “Seen ‘em around the jail but never talked to either of them. I’ll be okay. Besides, like I said it’s not too bad. I’ve been through worse.”
Marc silently stared at his client, the blood draining from his face as he calmed down while he did so. “Well, at least I can go out there and play the media a bit. I can make the accusation that a guard was involved. As liberal as this town is that will play pretty well for a few days.”
“You think so?”
“No doubt. Listen, I have to take off for a while but I’ll be back. I want to get a good camera and get some pictures of you. Okay?”
“For your scrapbook?” Carl asked, again weakly attempting a smile.
“For the lawsuit,” Marc answered grimly.
“Whatever you say, Marc. I’m not going anywhere. Besides, I’m getting a little tired. Think I�
��ll get some sleep. Didn’t get much last night.”
“Okay, Carl,” Marc said patting him on the leg as he rose to go. “You take it easy and I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“Sure thing,” Carl said as his eyes closed.
Marc exited the room and stepped into the middle of the crowd of police outside the doorway. He hesitated for a moment looked over the group and then, spotting the one he wanted, put an angry look on his face and. went after him.
“One of your damn guards was in on this,” Marc snarled into Waschke’s face as he stepped up to the big cop.
Jake took an involuntary step backwards and held up his hands as if to ward off an attack. The next thing Marc knew, three of the other officers had him sprawled across the counter of the nurses station, two of them pinning his arms while the third one began to pat him down. Marc glanced over at the media crowd who were swinging into action as Waschke quickly regained command stepped forward and pushed his three protectors aside saying, “Let him go, let him go, for chrissakes. We’ll be all over the evening news, you idiots.”
Waschke got in between Marc and the other police, all of whom were by now gathered around their lieutenant and the lawyer who continued to remain spread out across the counter for the obvious benefit of the now whirring TV cameras.
“Get those people back,” Jake whispered to his subordinates jerking a thumb toward the news people. “Everything’s under control here folks. Just a little misunderstanding,” he said into the cameras as the officers began to gently guide the reporters away from the scene.
Jake turned back to Marc, leaned over and quietly whispered into his ear, “You can get up now, counselor. The show’s over. The cameras are off. You want to talk to me,” he continued as Marc straightened himself, “come talk to me,” he said nodding his head toward a small waiting area and began to walk off in that direction.
Marc Kadella Legal Mysteries Vol 1-6 (Marc Kadella Series) Page 22
