Gondeck looked down at Slocum seated in the chair, his right elbow on the armrest, the hand on his forehead as he stared down at the floor. “Craig?” Gondeck quietly asked the county attorney.
Slocum sat silently for a few more seconds, weighing his political future, then, finally, nodded his assent. “You do it,” was all he said.
Prentiss picked up his phone and told his clerk to send in a deputy sheriff. Jake walked to the window and looked down at the construction site for the new stadium and across the river to the University campus. Marc returned the key to his pocket alternating his eyes between the back of the big cop and the slumped form of Slocum. He found it funny, in an ironic way, that he felt better looking at Slocum than he did Waschke. It occurred to him that Waschke maintained more dignity though his life was irreparably shattered than did the lawyer who had nothing more significant than political problems to clear up. After a few minutes the deputy came in, stood in the doorway surveying the scene, awaiting instructions.
Gondeck moved over to Jake, lightly placed a hand on one of his shoulders and softly said, “Jake, the deputy’s here. We’re going to have to place you under arrest. Will the cuffs be necessary?”
“No,” Jake quietly replied as he turned back to the room’s interior.
“Take the Lieutenant across the street and have him booked on a charge of obstructing justice. That will be enough for now. There will be more charges later. Get him a lawyer and I’ll be over in a while,” Gondeck said to the deputy who looked at Prentiss who nodded his assent.
As Jake was walking toward the door, he stopped, turned back to Marc and stuck out his right hand. After a brief hesitation, Marc grasped it in a firm grip and the two men shook. Waschke weakly smiled and half-seriously, said, “I’m looking for a good lawyer. Want a client?”
EIGHTY-SIX
Slocum slipped out the back way and took the elevator back to his office leaving Gondeck with the job of facing the courtroom and dismissing the case against Carl. When they had retaken their places after the discussion in chambers Marc had managed to contain himself and gave no indication to Carl what was coming. At first, no one seemed to notice that Slocum and Waschke were missing but as soon as Prentiss had resumed the proceedings Steve Gondeck stood and moved the court to dismiss all charges and Carl, though it took a while to sink in, was a free man.
Bedlam erupted in the courtroom and around the defense table with a good deal of hugging, back slapping and even a few tears. After a few minutes Prentiss ordered everybody out and Carl was taken away, this time without the handcuffs and leg irons, to go back to the jail to retrieve his possessions and be processed out of the jail and released.
After being proclaimed by Joe Fornich to be the world’s greatest lawyer and assured that Joe would leave no stone unturned to get him paid, Marc finally had a moment with Tony Carvelli.
“Where’s Maddy?” Marc asked, sorely disappointed she had missed the celebration.
“She went out to Stillwater this morning,” Tony answered. “She called me early this morning and asked me to meet her at Jake’s mother’s place and bring her here today. Said she had to go out to the prison to check something out,” he shrugged.
“Can you get Louise home?” Marc asked.
“Sure, no problem,” Tony answered. “And hey, congratulations counselor,” he growled. “You did a helluva job.”
Marc stood in the almost empty courtroom staring at the back of Tony’s leather coat as he helped guide Louise Curtin through the door. Tony paused in the doorway, looked back at Marc and the two men gave each other a casual wave as the door swung closed.
Marc made a half turn to look at Steve Gondeck, the only other person still in the courtroom. Gondeck had stepped up to Marc and after shifting his briefcase to his left hand held out his right to his friendly foe.
“Congratulations, Marc,” he said. “So tell me,” he continued after the two of them had released their grip, “what was she going to testify to.”
“You don’t want to know,” Marc said.
“Yes, I do,” Gondeck replied. “In fact, now that I probably have to prosecute Jake, I have to know.”
Marc looked at him for a moment then said, “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”
“And it’s not privileged. I could force you to testify,” he added with a sly grin.
“Okay,” Marc solemnly answered. “I guess so. When Jake and Daniel were kids, I mean real young maybe as early as when Daniel was four or five, his father, Jake’s stepfather, abused the boys. Sexually. Bad stuff, I guess.”
“I figured it was something like that,” Gondeck said with clear distaste.
“Daniel, mostly. At least he got the worst of it. Jake too she told me. Anyway, it went on for a few years. He stopped entirely with Jake when he got to be about nine or ten. Big enough to fight back. Jake, the big brother,” he continued as he held up his hands, palms upward, and shrugged, “finally put a stop to it.”
“How? I mean, what did he do?”
Marc leaned forward and shifted his eyes about the room, checking to see if anyone else was listening, then whispered, “He killed the old man.”
“What?” Gondeck said, his eyes wide.
“Relax. He didn’t mean to. From what Louise said, the guy had it coming. A real asshole. Drunk a lot and beating her and the boys. Forcing Daniel to do things. Oral sex and what-have-you. One Friday night,” Marc continued leaning back against the edge of his table while Gondeck continued to stare in disbelief, “the old man’s sitting in the kitchen getting shitfaced drunk like usual. He gets up to go down in the basement for more booze and does a header off the second step onto the concrete and breaks his fool neck. Dead instantly, she told me.”
“Sounds like an accident,” Gondeck interjected.
“Yeah,” Marc agreed. “That’s what the coroner ruled. But it wasn’t exactly an accident. Jake had plugged a burned out lightbulb into the socket at the bottom of the stairs. Then, he rigged up a rope on the stairs and waited for the old drunk to come down. He starts down the stairs, flips on the light and nothing happens. He tries to go down the stairs in the dark except Jake is hiding down there waiting for him. When Jake hears him on the stairs, he pulls the rope tight, trips him and down he goes.”
“Jesus Christ,” Gondeck softly said. “How old was he?”
“Maybe eleven or twelve. Told Louise about it. Said he did it to protect Daniel. Said he didn’t mean to kill him. Just scare him so he’d leave Daniel alone.”
“I’ll be damned. Quite a story. Pretty gutsy for a twelve year old kid.”
“I’ll say. Anyway, Daniel’s been a little screwed up ever since. Both boys blamed their mother, especially Daniel. She told them she didn’t know what was going on but they never really believed her. You think Jake’ll be prosecuted for it? For the killing?”
“No, not much chance of that at this point,” Gondeck replied. “We can probably use it to get a plea out of him and leniency. What a mess,” he sighed.
“What about Daniel Waschke?” Marc asked.
“We’re going to have to look at him real hard. Since your guy didn’t do it and considering what Jake was up to, that makes Daniel suspect number one.”
“The politics are going to be interesting.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Gondeck said. “There’s going to be a political shit storm over this. Why do you think Slocum is hiding under his desk? He isn’t just in the eye of the hurricane over this clusterfuck, he is the eye of the hurricane.”
“Nobody deserves it more,” Marc replied. “Well, Steve, I have to run. See you around.”
“Marc, congratulations again. You did a great job for your client.”
EIGHTY-SEVEN
Maddy had been inside jails and prisons before, in fact, many times. Every time she left one though, she always did the same thing, the same thing she did now. The moment she stepped through the door leading to the public parking lot at the prison in Stillwater, she looked up at the sky and took
in several deep breaths. Inhaling what she felt was the sweet air of freedom. It always amused her when she would hear some loud mouthed politician pandering for votes conning people about how good convicts had it in prison. You could bet, she firmly believed, the idiots that whine like that had never been inside one of these places. As she walked toward her car she always had the same sensation, the same thought: I’m getting in my car and going home and you’re staying there. I get to do whatever I want, go wherever I want and you’re staying there and go where you’re told, when you’re told and do what you’re told. Have a nice night.
The weather where she was, east of the Cities, across the St. Croix River from Wisconsin, was clear, sunny and beautiful. She had removed the light, tan, wool jacket that matched her slacks and had tossed it on the backseat. As she headed west on Highway 36 to go back to Minneapolis, she could see the dark, gray skies coming across the prairie. She pushed the car to seventy five, reached in her purse to retrieve her phone, flipped it open, punched in the number, pressed the call button and put the phone to her ear. She had news she couldn’t wait to share with Marc and wanted to try him at the office in case he was back from the trial. She had not heard a radio or seen a TV all day and the news of the trial had not yet reached her.
She held the phone to her ear and softly cursed when she realized the batteries were too weak. Maddy tossed the phone on the passenger seat, pushed the speedometer to eighty and turned the radio on. Within a few minutes the radio announcer came on with the day’s big story, the sudden and unexpected dismissal of all charges in the serial murder trial that had captivated the media, the entire state and a good part of the nation, for the past several weeks. The announcer also told Maddy about, what appeared to be, the related arrest of Minneapolis homicide detective, Jacob Waschke.
“Holy shit,” Maddy whispered, her eyes wide staring straight ahead as the news sank in. Instead of being elated though, a gloominess came over her as gray as the mass in the sky inexorably moving toward her, and she toward it.
Earlier that day, after practically floating out of the courtroom, Marc had spent almost two hours being interviewed by just about every newspaper, TV and radio station in the upper Midwest. He was patient, cheerful and cooperative with all of them. Publicity like this couldn’t be bought he realized, and he figured he better play it for all it was worth. His practice was in a shambles and truth be told, he was practically on the verge of bankruptcy.
After a quick lunch at the burger joint down the street from his office, Marc parked in the lot behind the building, took the backstairs two at a time and entered the office acting like Caesar returning from Gaul. Everyone was there, waiting for him, including a couple of bottles of champagne, the good stuff Chris Grafton pointed out to him amid the congratulations and laughter.
“Where’s the broad?” Connie Mickelson asked him shortly after his arrival.
“The what?” he asked giving her an admonitory look while shaking his head.
“Okay, okay, Mr. Politically Correct. Where’s Madeline?”
“She went to Stillwater this morning,” he answered. “I’m not sure where she is. I was hoping she’d called by now. Why?”
“Because I’m taking everybody out to dinner tonight. You know, to celebrate the big victory. And,” she continued slyly, “I’ve got some news of my own.”
“Don’t tell me, husband number, what, fourteen lined up?” he said as the others laughed.
“Number five, smart ass,” Connie laughed punching him playfully on the arm. “At least, I think it’s five. Yeah, five. Anyway, bring Maddy along if you talk to her.”
Marc spent the rest of the afternoon on the telephone. There had been a half inch stack of congratulatory phone messages waiting for him when he returned and the calls poured in all day. Shortly after 4:30 P.M., with the phone still pressed to one ear, he heard a rap on his door and Carolyn stuck her head in. With his free hand he waved her in and motioned to a chair.
“That’s interesting as hell, Paul,” he said into the mouthpiece while Carolyn closed the door behind her. “I’m not sure what it means, but thanks for calling. It is kind of strange. Makes you wonder doesn’t it?”
Carolyn stood patiently by the door while Marc listened to the caller for a few seconds. “Listen, I have to go but if anything comes up, I’ll let you know.” After another pause he said, “I’d appreciate it, Paul. Thanks. Bye now,” he concluded and hung up the phone.
“What’s up?” he asked Carolyn as he let his feet drop from the desk top.
“Maddy’s here,” she answered, “and I ...”
“Oh, good,” he said interrupting her and standing at the same time. “What?” he asked seeing Carolyn still standing.
“I just want to thank you for not bringing John into it, the dumb ass.”
“My pleasure, sweetheart,” he said as he came around the desk, his arms extended to her. While they gave each other a warm, friendly hug he asked, “Any problems at home?”
“Well, we’re okay,” she said with a smile as they released each other. “I let him know I wasn’t real happy that he didn’t tell you sooner. And I have to admit, I was pretty worried about the consequences if he had to testify.”
“Carolyn, I’m just delighted it wasn’t necessary,” he said softly. “Now, let’s get Maddy in here.”
After they had both taken their seats, Marc behind the desk, Maddy in a client chair, she added, “So, it’s over?”
“Yeah, it’s over,” he answered grinning.
“There’s something weird here, though,” she continued. “I went out to the prison today ...”
“I heard,” he said.
“And I got some strange information.”
“What?”
“Seems our boy Carl was pretty good with a knife.”
“We heard about that. So?”
“He had a neighbor, the guy in the cell next to him. I heard they were pretty good friends.”
“How good?” Marc asked cocking his eyebrows.
“Not that good,” she said seeing the look in his eyes. “The guy in the cell next to him was none other than a certain Walter Bingham. Remember him?”
“Excuse me? What? Are you serious?” Marc said obviously shocked.
“You don’t suppose ...”, Maddy began to say.
“Wait,” he said holding up a hand to stop her. “Just before you came in. I was on the phone to a lawyer I know, Paul Eberhard. He represents good ol’ Wally. Wally walked from all charges. Seems the cops screwed up the search warrant. Paul told me Wally pointed it out to him right away, as soon as Wally showed it to him. They had the wrong address on it and Paul said he got the feeling Wally knew it all along.”
“You think Carl put him up to it? That he and Carl set up his testimony? Get on the stand and look like he’s obviously lying to try to make the jury pissed at the prosecutors? You think Carl’s that clever?” Maddy asked.
“I don’t know,” Marc said after reflecting on it for a moment. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s a pretty good stunt if they did it. Pulled it off pretty good, too.”
“You want more weird?”
“No. What?” Marc said.
“Guess what Carl’s cell number was?”
“What?” he asked, puzzled. “His cell number? I don’t know why?”
“Come on, think about it. Guess what his cell number was? And what we didn’t notice before, what was his apartment number?”
Marc continued to look at her with a puzzled expression. Then, after three or four seconds, his face changed as the light went on. “Don’t tell me: 119?”
“You got it. And good old Wally was in 120. And guess who was in 118?”
“Don’t do this to me,” he laughed.
“Steve Frechette. Remember him? He was the other guy that assaulted Carl. The one Ed Hill testified about. The one we couldn’t find. I can’t believe the cops overlooked all this.”
“Why not, we did? What the hell does this mean?” Marc ask
ed, clearly reflecting on the news. “That Carl’s got a thing for the number 119 now? So what? And he was helping us out from inside the jail? Again, so what?”
“I’m not sure what it means but it strikes me our boy is a lot smarter than he let on.”
“It’s ...,” Marc said staring at her and shrugging. “It’s, I don’t know. I’m not sure what it is. I guess it all worked out all right.”
“I guess,” she said nodding in agreement.
EIGHTY-EIGHT
Maddy turned the key to her apartment door, pushed it open, walked in and dropped her purse and keys on the small table by the door. The skies had opened up while they had been in Malloy’s celebrating Marc’s victory and Connie’s most recent engagement with, arguably, the best steak dinner in the Cities. Everyone in the office, including spouses and Connie’s betrothed, had wined and dined the evening away until just before midnight when the rain had finally let up and everyone made a hasty exit to their cars. Just before she had reached her building the rain had started again making her, once more, very grateful for underground parking.
She threw the wall switch illuminating the living room with the light from a table lamp in front of the picture window across the room and headed for the kitchen. She made the right hand turn into the kitchen, turned on the light and found the cordless phone on the table where she had left it that morning. Concerned with the battery strength after it spent the entire day out of the recharger, she quickly dialed Marc’s number. Holding the phone to her left ear, she wiggled out of her jacket while listening to it ring. After the fourth ring she was becoming disappointed with the expectation that his answering machine was about to pick up when she suddenly heard his voice.
“Hi, it’s me,” she said.
“What’s up?” he replied.
“Well, there’s been something kind of bugging me and I didn’t get a chance to talk to you about it at dinner.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
Marc Kadella Legal Mysteries Vol 1-6 (Marc Kadella Series) Page 46
