At 7:00, it was time to get ready for his date. It was with a pretty girl but no child. Too bad, he thought. Then again, he couldn’t do another one for a while. Not until Brittany was locked up and even then, possibly not another one locally.
TWENTY-SIX
“Hello, Mrs. Riley,” Shannon Keenan said when Barbara opened their front door. “May we come in for a minute, please?”
“Why?” Barbara asked. “Did you hear what those despicable people did?” she said indicating the press and protestors.
“Yes, we did and I am truly sorry that Brittany and the rest of you found out what was discovered today in this way. That’s why Sheriff Cale sent the two deputies here, to keep the crowd under control and off your property. But we need to see Brittany. We need to get a DNA sample.”
“If I say no?” Barbara replied.
“Who is it, Mom?” Shannon heard Brittany say.
“We’ll get a court order,” Shannon politely replied. “Please don’t make us do that.”
“Let them in, Mom. I’ll call Mr. Kadella and see what he says,” Brittany said.
While Shannon and the woman who was with her took their seats in the living room, Brittany could be heard on her phone in the kitchen. Barbara apologized for being rude, which Shannon brushed off while they waited. A couple of minutes went by in awkward silence between the three women in the living room.
“He wants to talk to you,” Brittany said to Shannon as she handed her phone to the detective.
Shannon said hello and Marc introduced himself, then said, “You’re there to get a DNA swab?”
“That’s correct,” Shannon answered.
“Okay,” Marc said. “I’m okay with that since I know you can get it. But absolutely no questions or conversations with Brittany or anyone else that are not directly related to the DNA swab and only for identification purposes or to help identify the remains.”
“Understood,” Shannon said. “That’s why we’re here.”
Shannon introduced the woman who came with her to Brittany. Her name was Courtney and she was with the crime scene unit.
“I just need a small sample of saliva,” Courtney told Brittany as she held up what looked like a long Q-tip. She swabbed the inside of Brittany’s cheek with two of the swab devices, placed them in sealed containers and the women left.
The samples taken from Brittany and samples from the remains found in the river were rushed to the Bureau of Criminal Apprehension, the State of Minnesota’s crime investigation agency. Sheriff Cale had no problem getting their lab to make the testing a priority. Three days later, the results were in. It was a ninety-nine point eight percent match that the skeleton was Becky Ann Riley. The results were emailed, faxed and sent by messenger to Sheriff Cale’s office early Tuesday morning. By ten o’clock, Channel 8 was airing an on-site report by Gabriella Shriqui from the Dakota County Government Center. By 10:15 A.M, every TV and radio station in the Upper Midwest was reporting the results. Because he was working in his office with no television or radio on, Marc Kadella didn’t find out the results until several hours later. As the lawyer for the mother, Brittany, he should have been the first one called. The sheriff’s office was a little busy and Cale had consciously decided not to call the defense lawyer.
Cale entered the crowded conference room down the hall from his office. As soon as he did, people waiting for him quickly quieted down. Cale stood behind the chair at the head of the table and looked over the twelve deputies and investigators seated or standing along the back wall.
“All right, people. Does everybody know their assignment? Any questions?” he asked as he looked them over. “Is everything set?” he continued looking first at Paul Anderson and then Shannon Keenan who both nodded their heads to answer affirmatively. Anderson and Doyle would be doing the search at the Rileys’ home and Keenan and Kristin Williams with two deputies would do Brittany’s apartment even though it had been done twice already; once with Brittany’s permission and once without at the time of her arrest.
“Okay, let’s go,” Cale said.
Twenty minutes later, Paul Anderson parked his unmarked sedan in the Rileys’ driveway. Stu Doyle was in the passenger seat and as the two detectives got out of the car, a sheriff’s squad car parked behind him. In it were four more deputies. Two of them went with Anderson and Doyle up to the front door. The other two walked across the front yard to join the two men Cale had already assigned for crowd control.
Cale pulled up and parked his personal squad car on the street blocking the Rileys’ driveway. Before he could exit the car, the TV reporters and their camera operators began to scurry over to him. The four deputies immediately jogged into place to block them from their boss but Cale waved them away. He had deliberately worn his best, freshly laundered and pressed uniform and hat to make a good impression for film. Before they could get within ten feet of him, the questions had already started to fly.
Cale held up his hands to quiet them and said, “As you probably know, Becky Riley’s remains have been positively identified. We are here to execute a search warrant to look for evidence to help us in our investigation. At this point that’s all I have to say. Thank you.”
While the sheriff was making his statement to the media, Paul Anderson, Doyle and the two deputies had muscled their way past Barbara. As they entered the Riley house, Anderson handed a copy of the warrant to a steaming mad Barbara. Brittany and Floyd entered the living room and as the other three scattered to begin the search. Anderson politely explained to them to please not interfere. An obviously stunned and shaken Brittany asked if she could call her lawyer, which she did. Marc took her call and told her he would be there as soon as he could.
A few minutes after the search began, a car pulled up and a pair of crime scene technicians got out to search the Rileys’ cars. While they were doing that, the four-man team went through the house and garage. Paul Anderson was in the den going through papers when one of the deputies came in and said, “There’s something in the garage you need to see.”
Instead of replying, Anderson ignored the man for a moment and continued to read the document he was holding. “Jesus Christ,” Anderson softly said. He folded the papers, placed them in a plastic evidence bag and then followed the deputy through the kitchen into the garage.
“Check this out,” the deputy said. He leaned down to look under a shelf that had been built along the back of the garage on which was the usual garage detritus. Under the shelf were six cinder blocks, all of which appeared to be the same size as the one pulled from the river; the one Becky had been tied to.
“And,” he continued, “check this out,” he said pointing at an item on the shelf above the bricks.
Anderson leaned over to look at the item in the back of the shelf at which the deputy was pointing. Neatly coiled was a length of clothesline rope that, on first inspection, looked like the same rope used to tie Becky to the cinder block.
“Okay, let’s get some pictures,” Anderson said. He caught the attention of the tech who was working on Floyd’s car. The woman took a dozen photos of the cinder blocks and rope. When she finished, the rope was tagged and bagged and the deputy began loading the blocks in the back of his car.
Cale entered the garage and Anderson told him about the bricks and rope. He also held up the bag with the document in it and quietly said, “This may be the smoking gun. It’s an insurance policy on Becky Riley in the amount of a half a million bucks.”
“And Brittany’s the beneficiary,” Cale said.
“You got it.”
Cale turned his head when he heard the voice of the second CSU Tech speak his name. The man walked up holding another evidence bay and said, “We found several blonde hairs in Brittany’s trunk.”
“Could they be Brittany’s?” Anderson asked.
“Can’t tell for sure till we can do a lab check, but I don’t think so. These are too blonde and too short,” the tech said.
“Sheriff Cale?” a man’s voice
asked.
“That’s me,” Cale answered as the three of them turned to look at the man in a suit enter the garage.
The man walked up to Cale, extending his right hand and said, “I’m Marc Kadella, Brittany’s lawyer.”
Cale shook his hand and introduced the two men with him.
“Could I get a copy of the search warrant?” Marc asked.
“We gave one to your client, actually her mother, and the homeowner. Sorry but we didn’t bring one for you. We’ll get you one though,” Anderson responded.
“Okay,” Marc said. “Now, I’ll try to be polite about this, but you knew she was represented. I should have been called.”
“We’re under no legal obligation…” Cale started to say.
“I know,” Marc stopped him. “No one talks to my client without me being present and…”
“I’m glad you’re here,” Cale said. “We were just about to arrest your client on suspicion of murdering her daughter. You can witness us reading her Miranda rights. Go get her,” Cale said to Anderson.
Marc did his best to shield her from the cameras and the crowd as she was being led to one of the squad cars. It didn’t help much. The film of the pretty, blue-eyed, blonde, All-American girl, her hands cuffed behind her back would be shown nationwide on every national newscast that day. But not before Melinda Pace got a crack at her on her show that same afternoon.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Robbie Nelson filled Melinda’s wine glass half-full, set the bottle on the table and chastised her for her drinking. Despite feeling a little guilty because she knew he was right, she still brushed him off with a casual hand wave.
“Why do we need to edit any of it?” Robbie asked. “It’s not that long and it’s great stuff. The audience will eat it up.”
The two of them, along with Cordelia Davis were watching the film of the events at the Riley residence. Robbie looked at the clock, saw that it was almost 2:00 and realized if they were going to tape the show, they had to get started soon.
“I agree,” Cordelia said. “Are we going live today just in case we get some last minute information?”
“I was just thinking,” Melinda said, “I want a lawyer on screen, a talking head to give an opinion. Who do we have?” she asked looking at Robbie.
“I can probably get someone,” Robbie answered. “We’ll have to offer more money than usual. Can I go up to a thousand dollars?”
“Sure,” Melinda answered. “Get a prominent defense lawyer. Too bad Bruce Dolan’s dead. He was always great. Good looking and smart.”
“And corrupt as hell,” Robbie reminded her.
“So what? Anyway, find someone good.”
“I’ll get on it. What about the film?” Robbie asked.
“We’ll use all of it. First we’ll show the sheriff’s statement to the media when he got there. I’ll talk about how I predicted she was a suspect. Get something typed up Cordelia,” Melinda said.
“No problem,” Cordelia replied.
“Then we’ll use the arrest film, which is just great stuff. Then I’ll talk some more about that and drop the bomb on them about the life insurance policy. I want to end that with ‘she killed her baby for money’. Cordelia, type it up. Let me see it and then we’ll get it on the prompter. After that, we’ll go to commercial and come back with the lawyer, he or she. In fact, a woman might be good,” Melinda said going off track a bit. “That one we had during Prentiss’s trial would be good. What’s her name?”
“Andrea Briscomb,” Robbie said, knowing the main reason Melinda wanted her was because she was fairly good looking but not better than Melinda in makeup so she wouldn’t show up Melinda.
“That’s right,” Melinda said, snapping her fingers in recognition. “Anyway, after the first break, we’ll just have a conversation with her about the case. No big deal. Then we’ll go to break and wrap with our dumbest criminals.”
“So, we’re going live?” Robbie asked.
“Unless you can get the lawyer here by three,” Melinda said. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”
Robbie stood up, picked up the bottle of wine, replaced the cork and said, “In that case no more of this.”
The four o’clock show went so well that the station decided to preempt the show that normally aired right after the six o’clock news to rerun Melinda’s show.
As she had outlined it at the meeting, they started off with Sheriff Cale’s statement in front of the Rileys’ house. The station cameramen had positioned himself to have both Cale in the foreground and the deputies at the door. It was obvious even from a distance that Barbara Riley was vigorously arguing with the men trying to get in.
When the film of Cale’s statement finished running, Melinda solemnly looked into the camera and all but claimed credit for making Brittany the prime suspect.
“I suppose they had to wait to see if a body turned up,” Melinda said as the background screen on the set behind her changed to an adorable picture of Becky Riley. Melinda turned her head to look at the little girl, looked back at the camera, stifled a sob and said, “She killed her beautiful little girl for money. I’m, ah, really sorry, but I need a break. We’ll be right back,” she said as she dabbed her eyes with a Kleenex.
“How was that?” she asked with a smile as the entire crew broke into applause.
Cordelia led the lawyer, Andrea Briscomb, onto the set. She shook hands with Melinda and took the empty chair. They were using the set with the anchor desk and not the more casual setting with two chairs and a table. Melinda preferred the anchor desk. It made her look more dignified and she believed gave the show a more professional appearance.
The set director cued Melinda when they came back from their commercial break. Melinda, with a weak, sad, smile, looked at the camera and said, “I’m sorry about getting emotional. I take pride in my professionalism but sometimes these things just get to you a little bit.”
She introduced her guest and the two of them had an exchange about the evidence against Brittany.
“A good strong circumstantial case can be more difficult to defend than eyewitness cases,” Briscomb said.
“Why is that?” Melinda asked.
“Eyewitness testimony can be very unreliable. If five people witness the same event, you can very easily get five accounts that differ enough to create reasonable doubt. But evidence such as her not notifying the police that her child was missing is going to be difficult to explain,” Briscomb said.
“And the same kind of rope that was used to tie Becky to the cinder block and the same type of cinder blocks were found in her parent’s garage won’t help her case either,” Melinda added.
“Exactly, that type of circumstantial evidence can be very persuasive,” Briscomb agreed. “Then there’s the life insurance policy. Five hundred thousand dollars can be a huge motive.”
The two women spent a few more minutes discussing the court process and procedures. When they finished, there was another two-minute commercial.
“Hey,” Melinda said to her guest after the break began. “You did really well. I’ll want to use you some more on this thing. You interested?”
“Absolutely,” Briscomb replied as the two women shook hands. “Try to give me a little more notice but I’ll do what I can to keep myself available.”
After Briscomb was escorted out, Melinda wrapped up the day’s telecast with her dumbest criminals segment. It was about a Florida man named Dan Springer who pleaded guilty to breaking and entering. In an attempt to burglarize a home, he entered through the roof but became trapped, upside down, in the bathroom. The would-be burglar tried to retrieve his phone from his pocket to call for help but it slipped out of his hand and landed in the toilet. Unable to extricate himself, he remained hanging upside down for an hour until the homeowner found him and called the police.
“I always like to add a little humor to the show, folks,” Melinda said. “Thank you and tune in tomorrow.”
Marc Kadella had spent several hour
s at the Dakota County jail, court and sheriff’s office, basically accomplishing nothing. Brittany would be brought to court the next day at 1:00 P.M. for her first appearance. He hoped some kind of reasonable bail would be set and had discussed this with Barbara and Floyd. As he was leaving the government center to go back to his office, Marc had to wade through a small herd of media types, a couple of them even followed him to his car.
Arriving back at his office, he turned left off Lake Street onto Charles to put his car in the lot behind his building. As he did this, the first thing he saw were the twenty or so protestors, back again marching up and down along the sidewalk next to his building. Marc parked and before the protestors saw him, he ran through the back door and up the stairs taking them two at a time to the second floor. When he reached the top of the stairs, he had to stop and lean over at the waist, huffing and puffing to catch his breath. “I have to get back in better shape,” he said aloud to himself. “When this is over I have got to get back into the gym.”
When he entered the office, he found everyone staring at the television. They were all watching Melinda Pace’s show. “Don’t any of those people out there have jobs?” Marc said referring to the protestors down on the street.
“We were going to get a bucket and dump water on them,” Sandy answered without taking her eyes off of the TV screen.
“Mother Nature’s going to do it for us,” Connie Mickelson said. “There’s a big storm coming through.”
“What are you watching?” Marc asked as he set his briefcase on the floor and dropped his suit coat over it. No one bothered to answer him as Barry Cline and Carolyn stepped aside so he could see it.
Marc Kadella Legal Mysteries Vol 1-6 (Marc Kadella Series) Page 109
