The sleek Corvette had barely came to a full stop when the man Jake was meeting was in the passenger seat with the door closed. Without bothering to greet his guest, Jake spun the car’s steering wheel completely around, did a 180 in the middle of Hennepin Avenue and headed south toward Lake Street. Eddie Davis rolled down the window, lit a cigarette and silently smoked, waiting for Jake to speak. They cruised a couple of blocks through the light, late-evening traffic until Jake had to stop for a red light a block from Lake.
“Gimme one,” Jake finally said. “So, what’ve you got for me?” he asked as Eddie handed him the cigarette.
“The guy I want, you know, the one for your trial, he’s out of town right now. He’ll be back in a couple of days.”
“How do you know that? Where is he?”
“Texas. He’s making his supply run. Goes down to Texas about once every couple of months. Picks up his weed and comes back. Don’t worry. He’s perfect for us and this way, I can bust his ass as soon as he gets back.”
The light turned green and Jake pulled ahead, continuing his short journey while silently reflecting on the news. He made the turn onto Lake Street and headed toward Lake Calhoun before finally saying, “That’s good. Yeah. That should work fine. You sure about this guy?”
“It’ll be fine, Jake. Trust me. You’ll love this guy. Make a great witness. Looks like a banker. Which is why he’s so good at selling dope. He sticks strictly with marijuana. Nothing else. Quietly makes his run south with his girlfriend in a minivan. They must look like average Joe Couple on vacation. Anyway, he’s got a record and if we nail him again, he’s looking at serious time. He’ll cooperate.”
“Okay. Well, we’ll see.”
“Jake, there is one other thing. I think you should know. There’s some broad poking around town asking a lot of questions. A real babe. I’ve seen her myself.”
“Yeah, so?”
“She’s poking around asking questions about you, personally. Here in Minneapolis and across the river.”
“Really?” Jake said quietly as he continued to drive.
“Yeah. Real personal shit, ya know. And from what friends in St. Paul tell me, she’s going way back. To like, when you were a kid.”
“Hmmm. Interesting,” Jake said. “You know who she is?”
“Yeah, I think so. You know Tony Carvelli?”
“Sure, I know Tony. He’s a straight guy. What of it?
“She’s a friend of his. A P.I. working for the lawyer, Kadella. Drop me off at the next corner,” Davis said. “I just thought I’d let you know about your surprise witness and what I’ve heard about the babe.”
“Thanks, Eddie. I appreciate it.”
SIXTY-THREE
Marc was in the office early Saturday morning. He stood at his desk going through two weeks’ worth of neglected mail, the only sound in the otherwise empty and silent suite coming from the coffee maker he had started when he first arrived. He had some catching up to do on what little remained of his practice and he needed a respite from the State vs. Fornich. He came upon a letter with a single page document stapled to it with the U.S. Department of Justice, Tax Division letterhead on the letter. Marc dropped all of the remaining mail on the pile on his desk, and took a minute to read the letter and the document. He pulled up his chair and unable to suppress a smile, went to his rolodex and found Carolyn’s number.
“Hi, it’s Marc,” he said when he heard her voice. “Can you come in for a couple of hours today?”
“You must’ve found the letter from the Justice Department,” she said.
“Yeah, I did. They actually dismissed the appeal before I thought they would. Anyway, I want to get going on that thing we worked on, right away. I want to have it signed and served Monday morning.”
“Okay, I’ll be there in about a half hour. I figured you’d call this morning. I have to be out of there by noon, though. No later.”
“That should be fine. We just need to finish it up. Most of the stuff is ready to go. I just need to finish up my affidavit.”
Two hours later they were making minor corrections to the documents they had prepared when the front door opened and Chris Grafton came in. Even though it was a Saturday, Grafton was wearing a suit and tie and was mildly surprised to see Carolyn at her computer screen while Marc stood over her.
“What’re you two up to?” Grafton asked.
“Us? Look at you on a Saturday morning,” Carolyn answered.
“Have to meet a client. He’s bringing money in, hopefully,” Grafton said.
“Here,” Marc said, handing a document to Grafton. “Take a look. This is what we’re up to.”
Grafton took the several pages held by his friend and began to read. He got through the first paragraph when his eyebrows shot up and he looked at Marc and said, “You’re taking the United States of America to court on a Contempt Motion?”
“Yep,” Marc answered, smiling.
“You’re taking the government of the United States into federal court to ask a judge to find the government in contempt. Is that what I’m reading here?”
“Yes it is,” Marc said, still smiling.
“Contempt of what?”
“Contempt of court for ignoring a valid court order and not paying me my money fast enough. And for jerking me around and wasting the court’s time with this appeal bullshit. It’s all here in my affidavit. Got it all spelled out nice and neat to show the judge how they screwed around, ignored his order and wasted more of the taxpayer’s money and time with this appeal nonsense. This appeal that several people have admitted they just did to buy themselves more time and cover-up their incompetence.”
“I like it,” Grafton said, laughing. “I’ve never heard of such a thing, but I love it. Pretty ballsy. I hope you nail their ass. What’re you asking for?”
“I tried to find some grounds to have someone put in jail, but I can’t do that. So, I’m asking for twelve thousand dollars plus an additional five hundred per day until they comply and of course, more attorney fees.”
“Well, good luck. Go get ‘em. I think it’s great. What about service?” Grafton asked.
“I’ll have Maddy do it. She’ll have to get the original judge in St. Paul to have him sign an Order to Show Cause ordering them to show up and then serve it on the U.S. Attorney’s office in Minneapolis. “
“Why don’t you just mail it to Washington? “ Grafton asked.
“That’s the best part,” Marc said. “The rules say I have to serve it on the local office of the U.S. Attorney. They’re not handling this, Washington is. So, I’ll strictly follow the rules and serve it on the office downtown. They have nothing to do with this and they won’t know what to do with it. I have to give them thirty days’ notice so, I figure it will take three weeks, at least, for them to figure out what it is. All the while the clock is running and by the time I do hear from someone, the time will be about up. We’ll see, but I’m dead serious about this. I’m tired of being jerked around by these people and from what I saw when we were in court the first time, this judge is going to be furious.”
“Well, good luck. Let me know when the hearing is. I’ll come down and watch this time.”
Marc spent the rest of the day working on the few remaining cases he had, doing anything he could to clear his mind, if even briefly, of Carl’s case. With the most recent check he had received from Joe Fornich, he caught up on both his personal and business expenses and paid Maddy another five hundred. When he had finished, he stared at the one hundred sixty seven dollar balance in his checkbook and wondered how long he could stay in business at this rate.
Just before he left to go home, he picked up the phone and for the third time that day, almost dialed Margaret Tennant’s number. Remembering his bank balance, he decided against it and simply went home for another quiet Saturday night in front of the TV.
SIXTY-FOUR
“We left off on Friday, Lieutenant,” Slocum said, beginning Monday morning’s testimony, “w
ith you in the hospital following the murder of Donna Anderson. Do you recall that?”
“Yes, sure,” Jake answered.
“What did you do after that, as far as your investigation goes?”
“Pretty much what we’d been doing after each of the other murders. We investigated the life of the victim. Found out anything and everything we could about her. Jobs, friends. What she did in her free time and with who. Where she went and who she saw. Basically, her entire life.”
“Why?”
“We did that with all of the victims. Then we would feed all of the information, especially the names of people she knew or had some connection to, however remote, into the computer. Try to come up with some common connection between her and any of the others.”
“Did you find any such connection, Lieutenant?”
“No, we didn’t.”
“Any at all between any of the victims?”
“Except for the similarities in physical appearance, date, time and how they died, no. None at all.”
“Did you draw any conclusions from that lack of any connection, Lieutenant?”
“Objection,” Marc said rising from his seat. “Lack of foundation and calls for speculation.”
“I’m going to allow the witness to answer,” Prentiss said, overruling Marc’s objection. “He’s qualified to speculate a little here and give an opinion. He’s a veteran police investigator, Mr. Kadella.”
Thanks for reminding the jury, Marc thought as he sat back down, regretting that he had objected in the first place.
“It looked like he was after a certain type of woman. Physically, I mean. Tall, slender, brunettes. Very attractive. Other than that, they appeared to be random. No common connection.”
Jake spent the rest of the day testifying about the final victim, Alice Fay Darwin. Describing how close he had come to catching the man at Powderhorn Park at the time it happened. Testifying about the efforts by the police in searching the neighborhood that night and then, finally, the lucky break that had led them to Carl. Jake told the jury about the witness who had seen someone fleeing the scene. Slocum and Jake slowly, carefully, and methodically went through the phone call from Hobbs, the identification and arrest of Carl and of course, the most crucial testimony, Jake’s discovery of the knife.
Slocum knew the knife was easily the most important piece of evidence against Carl. It was the only piece of physical evidence that the jury would have, could see, touch and examine to their hearts content, that would tie Carl Fornich to at least two of the victims. Slocum was going to make certain that this witness, probably his most credible one, was going to definitely tie that evidence to the defendant. The lab technician who had matched the traces of blood found on the knife of two of the victims would come later. Jake’s job was to simply explain to the jury how the knife turned up and to use that testimony to get the murder weapon into evidence and in front of the jury.
“After you found the knife hidden in the defendant’s closet, what did you do next?”
“I put it in this plastic bag,” Jake said, holding up the knife, still in the same plastic bag. “I sealed it, marked it for evidence and had it sent to the lab for a check of fingerprints or anything else.”
“Was anything found?”
“Objection, your Honor,” Marc said, not bothering to stand.
“Lieutenant,” Prentiss said to Jake. “Did you personally conduct any lab tests or check it for fingerprints.”
“No, your Honor. I did not,” Jake answered, looking up at the judge.
“Then, Mr. Slocum, the objection is sustained. Move along.”.
Marc smiled imperceptibly at his small victory. Even though he knew that a more qualified expert witness would be brought in to do the blood analysis of the knife samples. Hopefully, one not as easy for the jury to follow and possibly, the blood samples wouldn’t have quite the impact later in the trial that they would now.
Jake concluded his testimony by recounting for the jury the events leading up to the discovery of the clothing seemingly hidden by the defendant in a public locker. That he had played a policeman’s hunch about the key Carl had in his possession when arrested and put one of his detectives back on the street to track down the locker and what was found inside.
Slocum methodically took him through the process of identifying each article found in the locker, including the bag. Jake identified each one by matching the identification tags with his own evidence notes and positively identifying the article as one taken from the locker. Jake also made a mental note to be sure to go over the clothes with Marty Hobbs before he testified to be sure to say they looked like the clothes Carl was wearing when Hobbs saw him on the street.
With the introduction of the clothing found in the locker, Jake’s direct examination was complete. It was almost 6:00 P.M. at that point so Prentiss recessed for the day. Marc’s first shot at examining a witness in front of this jury would wait until the next day. A brief reprieve that he was silently grateful to receive.
SIXTY-FIVE
“Thanks for coming Tony,” Marc said to Carvelli as the two men entered Marc’s office. Marc took his seat behind the desk while Tony closed the door.
“Hi, sweetheart,” Tony said as he bent down and lightly kissed Maddy on the cheek, while she remained seated in one of the chairs in front of Marc’s desk.
“Hello, Tony,” she smiled looking at Marc’s eyebrows, raised in mock surprise.
“If you two are through slobbering on each other, can we get down to business?” Marc said. “Have either of you come up with anything, anything at all tying Waschke to this witness, Hobbs?”
“Nothing so far, counselor,” Carvelli said from the chair next to Maddy. “This is a touchy business, though. Jake’s a popular cop. Got a lotta friends in the department. I’m finding it to be a real touchy subject.”
“How about you?” Marc asked looking at Maddy. “Anything?”
“Nothing,” she answered, shaking her head. “Are you sure there is one?”
“Has to be,” Marc sighed. “Look,” he continued, “if you believe Carl is innocent then there’s only one logical explanation for the evidence. Especially the knife. Waschke planted it. How he came up with it, I don’t know ...”
“Could’ve found it at the crime scene,” Tony interjected. “The last one. Wasn’t he the first one on the scene? He could’ve found it there. I don’t believe it though. I’ve known Jake too long.”
“Maybe you don’t want to believe it,” Maddy said.
“And if you believe Waschke planted the knife, how else do you explain the witness, Hobbs?”
“Maybe Hobbs saw someone who looks like Carl running down that street that night,” Maddy offered.
“Yeah, yeah that could be,” Marc said nodding in agreement. “I still don’t quite buy that. I still don’t believe it. Too much of a coincidence. There’s gotta be a connection somewhere.”
“Could be Jake’s been using him as a snitch. Any good detective will have confidential informants that only they know about. That would explain Hobbs’ clean record. Jake got it wiped for him,” said Carvelli. “If that’s the case, you won’t find it. Jake’s too good to make that kinda mistake.”
“Well,” Marc said, “keep looking. It’s there. And if we find it, we win.”
They ordered Chinese, which Tony paid for, and spent the rest of the evening going over Marc’s upcoming cross examination of Jake Waschke. Tony played Jake’s role and Maddy the judge and jury while Marc went through his questions. They practiced the examination, sharpening each question to be asked, each area to be probed. All three of them going over each piece of evidence including the police reports and Jake’s testimony looking for weaknesses to exploit, holes to widen.
The cross examination of a witness during a trial is, in theory, the mirror image of the direct examination of the same witness. During the direct examination the jury’s attention should be focused on the witness and what he is telling them. The good cros
s examiner will have the jury’s attention focused on the lawyer. It is the lawyer who is, in effect, doing the testifying in question form. This is done by asking short, simple, precise questions. Very narrow, very focused questions worded in a way to elicit only yes and no answers. The witness had his chance to tell his story during the direct examination. Now it’s the other side’s chance to take that witness’ story and turn it around to benefit his client’s case. The purpose is to get all of the facts before the jury so that they can make an informed decision within the confines of the law. The reality is, of course, each side wants the jury to hear only the facts and truth that they want them to hear and in a way that they want the jury to hear it, all in the search for justice.
On the morning of the day when Marc would get his first shot at the prosecution’s case, his cross examination of Jake Waschke, he awoke at six, a half hour before his alarm was set to go off. He rolled onto his side, pulled the blanket to his chin and tried to go back to sleep. He laid like this for several more minutes, his eyes wide open and his mind already going over his upcoming exam. Finally, realizing sleep would not return, Marc tossed the blankets aside and headed for the bathroom.
Two hours and a pot of caffeine later, as he was putting the finishing touches to the knot of his tie, he began to feel a slight tightening of his chest and trembling in his fingers. Marc stood in front of his bathroom mirror, held his hands out in front of his face and watched the fingers lightly shaking as his breath began to quicken. He took a half dozen deep breaths, clenched and unclenched his fists several times then toweled off the small beads of perspiration from his brow. “Relax,” he said to the man in the mirror. “You’ve done this many times. You’ll be all right once you get started. You know that.”
“Yeah,” he answered himself still staring at the image looking back from the glass. “But never this important. Never with an innocent man facing such a horrible fate.
Marc Kadella Legal Mysteries Vol 1-6 (Marc Kadella Series) Page 33
