Marc Kadella Legal Mysteries Vol 1-6 (Marc Kadella Series)
Page 77
“Oh, sorry.” He picked up his things, turned to Maddy and said, “Come in, let’s talk.”
They took their seats in Marc’s office and he started by asking, “How’ve you been?”
“Fine,” she answered. Maddy leaned forward and said, “Tell me you called me before you called Tony. Tell me you wanted me to work Prentiss’ case and not him.”
“I called you before I called Tony. I wanted you to work Prentiss’ case and not him.”
She continued to stare at him across the desk for several seconds then finally said, “It’s a lie, but it’s a nice lie. So, I’ll let it go.”
“It’s not a lie,” Marc said laughing. “Besides, I think Tony has a conflict.”
“I knew it! I should be insulted that you would want him first,” she said.
“Good God, woman. How competitive are you?
“I’m just giving you a little jazz. Tell me about Prentiss.”
For the next ten minutes, he told her everything he knew so far. Being an employee of Marc’s working the case, his attorney-client privilege would extend to her so he could fully inform her.
“What all do the cops have on him?” she asked.
“I haven’t seen the discovery yet. I talked to Steve Gondeck this morning and they’ll be sending stuff over in a day or two. I’ve heard they found him unconscious lying on her body with the knife in his hand with a lot of her blood on him.”
“That would figure if what he says is true,” she said.
“Take a look at these,” he said as he handed the stack of letters to her. “They’re death threats from some of the people who have been through his court. Most of them are anonymous, but Prentiss told me he figured out who each one was from the letters, the dates and the complaints and made notes on them.”
“How would he know?”
“It’s not that hard. Read the letters and they’ll indicate when they were in court or what they were sentenced for or things like that. These people are morons. Anyway, since none of them ever did anything to try to make good on their threats, the cops probably just filed them. I need you to start with them. We need to come up with a plausible alternative. It won’t be good enough to make the claim that somebody else did it. We have to give the jury someone. I’ll get you copies of those before you go.”
“What’s the next step in the proceedings?”
“I file for an omnibus hearing…schedule it as soon as I can.”
“What’s an omnibus hearing?”
“It’s a hearing before the trial judge to try to resolve all of the pretrial issues. I’ll bring a motion to dismiss because the cops had no business going into that house. The prosecution will probably bring a motion for an aggravated sentence to give him more jail time if he’s found guilty. Other issues too like discovery, probable cause that Prentiss did it, any potential Constitutional or procedural issues. Stuff like that.”
“What happens if the judge decides the cops had no grounds to go into the house that night?”
“Then we win because all of the evidence obtained after an illegal search would be inadmissible. Don’t worry, that won’t happen.”
“What about getting paid?”
“You always have to ask the hard questions, don’t you? He’ll come up with the money. I’m not too worried about it.”
“Okay, I’ll trust you. I’ll get started on these right away. On a more personal note, how are you and the judge doing?”
“Good. She wants me to move in with her.”
“Oh, oh,” Maddy said with a beautiful grin. “Getting serious.”
“How about you? You look fabulous. Things going okay?”
“Yeah, really well. But I’m looking forward to helping on this,” she said as she held up the letters. “Something juicy.”
“Yeah, that’s the word to describe a murder one case. Juicy.”
She stood up to leave and Marc came around the desk. She held out her arms and they gave each other a friendly hug. They went out into the reception area and Sandy made copies of the letters for Maddy. Marc walked her to the door and held it open for her. As she was leaving he said, “If you find out anything at all, even trivial, that might help us, let me know right away.”
Maddy looked back at Carolyn and with a big grin, said, “I’m giddy as hell about this. I’m just totally psyched to be working on something like this again. I’m so glad you took his case and called me though I’m surprised you did take his case.”
“We’ll see how big of a mistake that turns out to be. Stay in touch.”
FIFTY-NINE
Marc waited patiently for the deputies to bring his client to the courtroom for arraignment on the new charges. Knowing there would be media people present, Marc had arranged for one of Prentiss’s suits to be brought to him so he could change and look less like a criminal.
Jennifer Moore was representing the prosecutor’s office and she was seated at the other table. He thought back to the first time he met her, a little over a year ago. At that time she was still fresh, idealistic and enthused about being a lawyer. Since then, he noticed, she had already taken on a harder, edgier attitude.
Marc stood up, straightened his tie and took a seat at the prosecution’s table next to Jennifer.
“Hey, Marc, what’s up?” she pleasantly asked.
“Can I,” he hesitated, “tell you something? Give you some advice. You can tell me to mind my own business if you want, but I’ve noticed a change in you.”
“Sure, what?” she said looking puzzled.
“You need to get out of this. Get away from criminal work. You’re getting jaded and…”
“Oh, that. Yeah,” she sighed. “I’ve thought about it. It shows, huh?”
“Only because I’ve known you for a little while. I remember how enthused and energetic you were.”
“Lawyers and cops, we’re the most cynical people there are,” she said. “But you know something? I love putting assholes behind bars. It’s rewarding. You should switch teams. We’d love to have you.”
“I can’t play the political games. Plus, I really like my independence.”
“Why do you suppose they’re here?” Jennifer asked referring to the twenty or so media attendees.
“I don’t know,” Marc said. “Let’s ask them.” He stood up, looked over the crowd of blank, bored faces and said, “We’re a little curious about why all of you are here. There’s nothing to see. Nothing is going to happen. Judge Prentiss is going to plead not guilty. I’ll ask for bail. Ms. Moore here will dispute it, the judge will likely refuse bail and that will be it.”
At that moment, the door leading to the back hall of the courtroom opened and the judge’s clerk came out. He gestured for Marc to come forward and Jennifer went with. The clerk informed them that Prentiss was here and the judge would be out in a few minutes. The two lawyers returned to their respective tables just as Gordon Prentiss was led through a side door and took the chair next to Marc. The two of them exchanged a brief handshake as the back door opened again and the judge and court reporter entered the courtroom.
While the reporter was setting up her equipment, Judge Carla Rios made a brief statement regarding court decorum and behavior. The clerk read off the case information and the lawyers entered their names into the record. Marc waived reading of the full indictment and he and Prentiss stood while all of the charges were read by the clerk. When that was done, the judge asked Prentiss for his plea which, of course, was not guilty.
At that point, Marc made a motion for bail and for the next few minutes the judge listened to both lawyers make their arguments for and against. When the lawyers finished, the judge thought it over for a minute then said, “Denied. But I’ll keep your motion open, Mr. Kadella, for possible reconsideration.”
“Thank you, your Honor,” both lawyers said simultaneously.
“Your Honor,” Marc said, “I would like to discuss something but I think it would be best if we do so in chambers, if we could.”
Marc turned toward Prentiss and found him quietly talking to a well-dressed man who appeared to be about the same age as Prentiss. He introduced himself to Marc and handed him a business card. He was Carter McElhenney, a lawyer with Prentiss’s former firm.
“I was wondering if I could meet with you this morning after this hearing at my office,” McElhenney said.
Marc looked at Prentiss who nodded his head to indicate his concurrence.
“Sure, I guess so,” Marc said looking at the business card. “What about?”
“Money,” Prentiss replied.
“I’ll be there,” Marc said as he shook hands with both men.
The two lawyers waited in the hallway for a few minutes while the judge was on the phone then Marc and Jennifer were shown into her chambers. Carla Ruiz had been appointed to the bench shortly after Margaret Tennant and the two of them had become good if somewhat casual friends. Both lawyers knew her from prior experience and if asked, would have given her very good marks for knowledge, ability and fairness.
“Okay, Mr. Kadella, what did you want to see me about? Do we need the court reporter?”
“No, you’re Honor, that won’t be necessary,” Marc began. “This is a little awkward, judge. It’s, um, just…”
“You want to know if I can be fair to your client who was not, let’s say, the most popular judge in this district,” Judge Rios said. “I’ll tell you right now, I will not recuse myself. If you want to bring a motion for that or a change of venue, go ahead, it’s your right. I won’t be offended, but I will deny both motions. Your guy is going to get a fair trial, Mr. Kadella. If you want to, I’ll bring the reporter in and we can do the motion right now. I don’t mind. Ms. Moore, do you want to say anything?”
“No, your Honor.”
“I don’t mean to offend you or…”
“I’m not offended at all, Marc. I would have wondered why you didn’t ask for it,” the judge pleasantly replied.
“I am going to include both motions in my omnibus pleadings, just to preserve it for a possible appeal.”
“I think you should,” Rios said. “Anything else?”
“No, your Honor.”
“Good. Now at the omnibus hearing, be prepared to set a trial schedule. Are you lead counsel?” she asked Jennifer.
“No, your Honor. Steve Gondeck will be.”
“Okay, you be sure to tell him he will be there for the omnibus hearing and scheduling conference. You two have a good day.”
Marc was on the elevator heading toward the thirty-fourth floor of the Corwin Building. The building was only ten years old and was named after the Corwin family. Vivian Corwin Donahue had attended the groundbreaking but after viewing the finished building vowed she would never set foot in the place. Forty-four stories of glass and chrome, it had all of the warmth, charm and style of a county morgue. Or so Vivian declared.
When the elevator door opened, Marc found himself staring at the receptionist desk of Kramer, Cullin, Prentiss and Moore, LLC. Seated at the desk, wearing a headset, a dove gray light wool business dress, and a stunning smile was what looked to be a mid-twenties, auburn haired Victoria’s Secret model.
Marc straightened himself up to his full height, fingered the knot of his tie and hoping his hair was fairly well combed, walked up to the waist high wall around her desk. She held up a perfectly manicured red lacquered finger signaling to him while she spoke into the phones mic.
When she finished the call, she looked up at him, flashed him a quick smile and said, “May I help you?”
“My name is Marc Kadella and I’m here to rescue you from this,” he said spreading his arms holding his briefcase in one hand to indicate her surroundings. “This must be like a slave ship to work in.”
After she stopped laughing she said, “You’re here to see Mr. McElhenney. I’ll call him for you.”
Marc took a seat in one of the reception room chairs and in less than a minute, McElhenney appeared. They shook hands and as McElhenney began to lead him back to their destination, Marc glanced back at the receptionist. She smiled and said, “Thanks for the offer but I’m good.”
They reached a door to a conference room and McElhenney opened it, stepped aside and let Marc enter first. Seated across the table were five lawyers, three men and two women, and when McElhenney took a seat at the head of the table, he became the sixth member of the firm. The first thing Marc noticed was how poorly dressed they were. The only exception was McElhenney, who had on a two thousand dollar Books Brothers suit. This was a white shoe law firm from which the partners all derived at least a half million each year. Yet, each of them looked as if they were wearing the same suit they wore when graduating from college. The next thing he noticed was the serious expression on their faces.
Marc took the chair next to McElhenney who went around the table introducing the others to him. He caught none of their names which didn’t seem too important since he wasn’t sure why he was even there.
After the introductions were complete, Marc said, “Now I know how a prison inmate must feel facing a parole board.” This statement elicited a small chuckle from one of the men and two others almost smiled.
One of the older men started by telling Marc that Gordon Prentiss was requesting a loan to pay Marc’s retainer fee. They were understandably quite concerned about a loan of such size; especially for the purpose it was being made.
“That sounds like an extremely exorbitant amount for a criminal case,” one of the women said, the skinny one that looked like a good meal would kill her and a good breeze would knock her off of her broom.
“So you want me to justify my fees to you. Is that it?”
‘Well, yes,” the other woman said.
“With all due respect,” Marc politely answered her, “I’m not going to do that. First of all, it may very well be unethical for me to discuss this at all. And second, I don’t see the need. My fees are between my client and me. As I see it, most of you probably wouldn’t be sitting here if it wasn’t for Judge Prentiss’ father. Loan him the money, don’t loan him the money. It’s entirely up to you.”
“How about if we agree to have you bill us as you go along?” one of the men said.
“The hundred grand is just a start. This case is going to consume me, maybe another lawyer and at least one investigator. Plus I can’t possibly agree to that and hope you stick with the deal. Unless there’s something else,” Marc said as he stood up, “all of you have a nice day and I hope you see fit to loan the money to your friend and former partner.”
“I’ll walk you out,” McElhenney said as the others all looked at each other as if Marc had just farted in their precious conference room.
Sensing the man wanted to talk to him, Marc held the door for him and the two of them started back toward the reception area. They came to an open office door whose occupant was out and McElhenney ushered Marc into it. Marc took a client chair and McElhenney sat behind the desk.
“Mr. McElhenney…” Marc began.
“Please call me Mac. You mind if I call you Marc?” Mac said as he pulled his checkbook from an inside pocket of his suit coat. He began writing a check and tore it off and handed it to Marc.
“What’s going on here?” Marc asked holding McElhenney’s personal check for twenty-five thousand dollars.
“What you said in there was right. They owe his dad. Besides, I’ll get the rest out of them. Give me a couple of weeks and I’ll have the rest for you. Is that enough for now?”
With that, he finished escorting Marc to the elevator. While they were waiting, McElhenney told Marc to call him directly when he needed more money.
SIXTY
The morning of the omnibus hearing, Marc left his apartment earlier than normal for the trip downtown. He had worked late the night before and rather than wake Margaret by sleeping there, he had spent the night at his home. Now he was in a h
urry to get to her courtroom to see her before the hearing to discuss something with her.
After parking his car in the building’s underground ramp, he hurried through the early morning crowd up to Margaret’s courtroom. Having called ahead, she knew he was coming and he went straight back to her chambers.
“Hey good looking,” she said from behind her desk as he walked toward her. “Nice suit. Someone has great taste,” knowing it was the light gray double-breasted Armani she had bought him for his last birthday.
“And I have great taste in women,” he said as he took a seat in front of her desk.
She got up from her chair and came around the desk. He looked up at her and said with a worried look, “You’re not going to jump on me again, are you? I don’t have time this morning.”
“Very funny,” she said as she bent down, kissed him then sat in the chair next to him. “What do you want to talk to me about?”
Marc hesitated for a moment, then looked at her and quietly said, “I need to talk to somebody and I know I’ll get good advice from you.”
“Okay, that’s nice. What?”
“It’s this Prentiss case. I have to tell somebody. I’m having some reservations about it. I’m not sure I can do this.”
“Then you need to get out of it. Get him a new lawyer and step aside. It’s that simple.”
“But,” Marc continued, “I’m not sure I can’t do it either. The thing is he swears he’s innocent. He insists he came home and found her in her bedroom already dead. Someone knocked him out and set him up. And as crazy as this may sound, I’m starting to believe him. It’s just that the evidence is overwhelming.”
For the next half-hour the two of them talked over his dilemma. Marc paced around Margaret’s chambers doing most of the talking while Margaret listened and interjected an occasional point or question. Finally, having exhausted the subject of his ambivalence, he sat down again next to his love.
“You think you’re the first lawyer who has had this problem?”
“Of course not. But it is a first for me. Normally, I don’t give a damn whether any client is guilty or innocent. I don’t even want to know.”