Marc Kadella Legal Mysteries Vol 1-6 (Marc Kadella Series)

by Dennis Carstens

  The chauffeur parked and quickly hurried around the limo to open the door for his passengers.

  “You okay?” Cooper asked Mackenzie.

  “Yes, Cooper, I’m fine,” she quietly answered through the black veil.

  The chauffeur had a large, black umbrella open and handed it to Cooper Thomas. He held it over Mackenzie as she exited the car. She took his arm and he guided her to her seat in the front row under the awning.

  The fifty chairs under the shelter quickly filled up and at least another two hundred people stood in the light rain. The Sutherland children sat in the front next to Mackenzie. She had always been kind to them and they to her; each masking the reality that they despised each other.

  Being a Navy veteran, Bill’s coffin was draped with an American flag. The casket was centered over a hole next to Bill’s first wife, Elizabeth, the mother of his children. Beth, as she was known, had died four years ago from cancer. Mackenzie had never met her and it was obvious the children all resented Mackenzie marrying their dad. No doubt believing it would mean less money for them.

  When the priest had finished and the service was completed, one of the pallbearers brought the folded flag and handed it to Mackenzie. Holding the flag out she stepped over to the oldest son, Bob, and held it out to him.

  “I think your dad would want you to have this,” Mackenzie said.

  Startled by this sudden and unexpected display of empathy, Bob could only mutter his thanks, all the while Mackenzie was thinking, don’t thank me yet, that’s about all you’re going to get.

  Three days later, still clothed in stylish black, Mackenzie took a chair in front of Cooper Thomas’s desk. She was a half-hour early for the appointed time to read the Will of this most recent dearly departed husband.

  “It’s not necessary for you to be here,” Cooper reiterated for at least the fourth time. He had taken his chair behind his glass-topped desk and was trying to avoid the sight of Mackenzie’s crossed legs.

  “I know, Cooper,” she answered him. “I told you, I want to see their faces.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s not your concern,” Mackenzie icily told him. “Is everything ready?”

  “Yes, including the security guard,” Cooper replied.

  “That won’t be necessary…”

  “I’m taking the precaution anyway. People can get pretty worked up over these things.”

  Barely twenty minutes later Cooper’s secretary buzzed him to let them know the Sutherlands were waiting in the conference room. Cooper thanked her and a minute later he opened the conference room door for Mackenzie and the two of them joined the three people already present.

  The younger ones, Hailey and Adam, were already seated. Bob was pouring himself a glass of water from a carafe on a credenza. Before the door finished closing behind them, a serious looking man in a dark business suit came into the room. Without a word he sat in one of the chairs along the back wall as if to observe.

  Mackenzie smiled slightly at her stepchildren and pleasantly said hello. Cooper took the chair at the head of the table. Mackenzie sat in the one to his immediate right. All three of Bill Sutherland’s children made a point of ignoring their stepmother as Bob took the first chair to Cooper’s left.

  “We may as well get right at it,” Cooper began looking at the three children. “Your father came here and secretly had me change his Will three months ago, unknown to his wife, Mackenzie.”

  “I don’t believe that,” Hailey said glaring at Mackenzie.

  Mackenzie leaned forward, her forearms on the table top and her hands folded. She stared right back at Hailey and said, “I knew you wouldn’t believe it but it’s true. I had no knowledge of it.”

  “It’s true,” Cooper continued. “He told me this himself and swore me to secrecy.”

  “We’re about to get bent over here, aren’t we?” Adam said looking back and forth between Mackenzie and her lawyer.

  “Not by me,” Mackenzie quietly replied.

  “Let’s have it,” Bob said holding up a hand to cut off his younger brother.

  Cooper cleared his throat then said, “First of all, you need to know that there is a ‘no contest’ provision in the Will. What that means is if you contest the Will and lose, you get nothing.

  “Your father left each of you the cash gift of one hundred thousand dollars. The residue of the estate, including the house in Crocus Hill and all of the personal property goes to his wife, Mackenzie.”

  “That’s it? A hundred grand each! This is bullshit…” Adam yelled.

  “Shut up, dummy,” Hailey snapped at Adam. “We still own ten percent of the business. That’s worth at least three or four million.”

  “What you have,” Cooper continued while Mackenzie sat quietly waiting for the hammer to fall, “is twenty thousand shares which was a gift from your father.”

  “Yes, we know,” Bob said. “We each hold ten percent of the common stock.”

  “Yes, except, the gift provision provided for the company to repurchase those shares, whenever it wanted to do so and at its sole discretion, for par value at any time. Par value was established as one dollar per share,” Cooper said looking directly at Bob. “Your father never changed this.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” Adam yelled. “She can buy the goddamn stock back for a buck a share? That’s bullshit!”

  While Adam said this, his brother and sister stared at Mackenzie who sat with an impassive expression yet thoroughly enjoying the show.

  “My parents worked their ass off for forty years growing a chain of grocery stores into a successful business. Then you come along and steal it. You fucking bitch!” Bob snarled, his voice rising in anger. “First you murder my father then…”

  “Stop!” Cooper said. “You had better be careful making allegations like that.”

  While he said this, he noticed out of the corner of his eye the man along the wall stand up and step behind Bob. The man stood there, his hands folded in front of himself.

  “Bob, I know you’re upset but your father had a heart attack. There was an autopsy…” Mackenzie started to say.

  “You bitch,” Hailey snarled. “We all know you did it…”

  “And if I find out how, I’ll get you for it,” Bob said as he stood up. “I should do it now,” he snarled.

  Cooper held up his left hand to stop the silent security man from interceding. “That sounds like a threat.” Cooper said.

  “A promise,” Bob viciously retorted. Cooper Thomas stood and faced Bob Sutherland. In his hand he held three envelopes, one for each of the Sutherland children. In each one was a copy of the Will, the stock gift document and a check in the amount of one hundred twenty thousand dollars. He handed them out and without another word, the three Sutherland children, obviously steaming, stomped out of the conference room followed by the security guard who escorted them to the elevator.

  “That went well,” Mackenzie smiled after the room emptied.

  “Did you enjoy it?” Cooper asked as he was picking up the papers he had placed on the table.

  “Not as much as I thought I would,” she replied. “What about the sale of the company?”

  “You just destroyed that family…”

  “The sale of the company?” Mackenzie repeated.

  “Everything is set. The contract will be sent by messenger to their lawyers this afternoon. The money will be transferred into your account at Ameriprise within forty-eight hours. They’re getting a bargain…”

  “We’ve been through this,” Mackenzie sternly interrupted her lawyer. “Twenty-seven million is plenty. I told you, I didn’t want to drag this out for a year for another five to ten million more. Let me know if you need me for anything else,” she continued as the two of them stood to leave. “Oh, and by the way, I didn’t do anything to that family. Their father did it. He despised them.” And, she thought, they didn’t get anything they did not deserve.

  THREE

  Marc Kadella star
ed out the open window of his second-floor office. He was a sole practitioner who rented space along with two other lawyers from a fourth lawyer, Connie Mickelson. Connie inherited the Reardon Building on Lake Street and Charles Avenue from her father twenty years ago. Connie moved her practice into this space when the previous tenant was disbarred for stealing client funds. Marc had been with her almost ten years along with the two other lawyers and the office staff. They had created an informal working arrangement and all became great friends over the years.

  Marc was in the office a little early watching the traffic go through the intersection on the street below. The weather geeks were predicting a beautiful Minnesota spring day; sunny and mild with high’s in the mid-seventies. Their prediction only increased his sour mood since he was going to be indoors all day.

  “Hey, gloomy Gus, you want some coffee?” he heard Carolyn Lucas, one of the office assistants say.

  Marc spun around to face her and said, “Sure,” as he held up his cup. “Let me ask you something,” he continued when Carolyn finished pouring. “You’re a woman…”

  “What gave it away?” she sarcastically said.

  Marc laughed then said, “Don’t do this to me. Anyway, I need your opinion about something. I have my twenty-fifth high school reunion coming up in a couple weeks, June second, and I don’t want to take Margaret…”

  “And she’s really pissed about it,” Carolyn interjected.

  “Yeah, would you be?”

  “I don’t know,” Carolyn shrugged “John and I went to high school together so we go to the same reunions.”

  “Oh, high school sweethearts. How nauseating,” Marc cynically replied.

  Carolyn scratched her nose with her middle finger which made Marc laugh again.

  “I don’t know why she would want to go to your high school reunion. Even when John and I go we don’t hang out together. He has friends he wants to see and so do I,” Carolyn said. “If she goes with you then you have to hang out with her and she won’t know anyone.”

  “Exactly,” Marc agreed. “I told her she’s being unreasonable, we had a big fight and I left.”

  “Uh, oh,” Carolyn said. “It sounds to me like more than just this reunion business.”

  The two good friends looked at each other for a few moments then Marc quietly said, “Yeah, you’re right. It is more than this. She’s getting a little clingy and I’m not sure I like it.”

  The office door to the hallway opened and they heard voices of officemates arriving.

  “If you need to talk, I’ll be here,” Carolyn said.

  “I know, thanks. I’ll tell you what though, I’m going to this reunion and I’m going alone. I’m not going to hang out with her all night,” Marc answered her.

  “Good luck,” Carolyn said as she turned to go to her desk.

  Marc heard Carolyn greet one of the other lawyers in the office just before the man appeared at Marc’s door.

  “Good morning,” Chris Grafton said. Grafton was several years older than Marc and had developed a successful corporate practice for small business clients. He also rented space in the office.

  “Hey, Chris,” Marc replied.

  “Do you want me to come with you this morning?” Grafton asked.

  “I don’t care,” Marc answered with a puzzled look. “You can if you want to but there won’t be anything for you to do. Why, is Dan Haney going to be there?”

  Dan Haney was a business client of Grafton’s and the owner of a chain of successful dry cleaning stores. Haney’s sister was in some fairly serious trouble and Grafton had recommended her to Marc. The good news was the brother, Dan, was paying the fees.

  “Yeah, Dan will be there,” Grafton said.

  “If you want to come along and hold his hand, it’s up to you.”

  “I think I should,” Grafton said. “He’s been a good client and…”

  “Then ride down with me. I’m coming back to the office afterwards. Unless you want to drive…”

  “No, you drive.”

  “Okay,” Marc said getting out of his chair, “let’s go.”

  Unable to get into the government center underground parking, Marc found a spot in the ramp across the street on Fourth Avenue. The two men walked through the skyway ramp connecting the two buildings.

  “You okay? You seem a little on edge,” Marc asked his friend.

  “I don’t like this criminal stuff. I don’t know why, but it makes me nervous,” Grafton replied.

  “Relax,” Marc laughed. “You’re not going to jail, she is.”

  “You don’t think you can keep her out of jail?”

  “No way, I’ll be lucky if we can get her to do time in Hennepin County and not the women’s prison in Shakopee.”

  A few minutes before the scheduled time of 9:00 A.M. the two men went into the courtroom. Marc’s client, Michelle Winters, and her brother were already there seated along the back wall. They all greeted each other then Grafton took the chair next to Dan Haney while Marc went to check in with the court clerk. Marc walked past the table where, to Marc’s surprise, the assistant county attorney was already there conversing with a female defense lawyer Marc knew.

  The prosecutor, Paul Ramsey, looked at him, politely smiled and said, “You’re next.” At the same time the defense lawyer, Peggy Sims, said hello to him.

  Marc took a seat in the jury box and looked over the almost empty, sterile courtroom. There were only a half dozen defendants, most of whom were represented by the public defender’s office whose representative was not present yet.

  Less than a minute after taking his seat the two lawyers stood up. They started to go back to chambers when Marc asked, “Who’s the judge Paul?”

  “Arnold Shelby,” Ramsey answered him.

  “Arnie’s okay,” Sims said.

  “I know Arnie, Peggy,” Marc politely replied.

  Five minutes later they came back into the courtroom. Sims walked through the gate and motioned for her client, a well-dressed young man to follow her into the hall.

  “You ready for me?” Marc asked.

  “Yeah. In fact, I’m looking forward to this,” the prosecutor said.

  Marc took the seat vacated by Peggy Sims. When he did, he leaned forward and whispered, “You flying solo now?”

  Paul Ramsey was a rookie with the county attorney’s office. He had been second chair for a recent trial Marc had done. Marc had gotten to know him a bit and genuinely liked him. Paul seemed to be a bright, capable young man who would likely become a first-rate lawyer someday. He was also a descendant of the namesake for Ramsey County which held the state capitol across the Mississippi.

  “I won’t be trying it alone if that’s what you’re wondering. Not against you. What are you looking for today?” Ramsey asked.

  “An apology for the inconvenience to my client,” Marc said.

  “Would you like it in writing?”

  “Hey, that’s good. A year on the job and you’re already as sarcastic and cynical as the rest of us. Congratulations,” Marc laughed. “What are you offering?”

  Ramsey read the notes in the case file, smiled at Marc and said, “Your client made the top ten list for balls this week. We want a felony plea and a gross misdemeanor DWI. We’ll ask for a departure to twenty-four months. She’s lucky she didn’t kill someone.”

  A little disheartened Marc said, “She needs treatment.”

  “She’s had treatment, a couple of times,” Ramsey interrupted.

  “She needs it again,” Marc continued.

  “The cops are pissed…”

  “They’re always pissed,” Marc said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Let’s go talk to Arnie and see what he thinks.”

  While the two men waited outside the door to the judge’s chambers, Marc said. “You have to admit the whole thing is kind of funny.”

  “My favorite case so far,” Ramsey said with a smile. “Still she is lucky she didn’t kill someone.”

  “Good mornin
g your Honor,” Marc said as the two of them approached the judge’s desk.

  They took chairs and Ramsey told Judge Shelby what case they were there for. Shelby found the correct file from the pile on his desk and put on his reading glasses. The two lawyers waited patiently while he read the police report. When he finished, barely able to suppress a laugh he looked directly at Marc.

  “Let me see if I have this straight. Your client, Ms. Winters,” he began, “Was pulled over by three cops each in their own squad car after a ten-minute attempt to get her to stop. Then, instead of getting out of her car she takes off and hits one of the squad cars, barely missing one of the officers.

  “She then leads them on a high-speed chase through the streets of Minneapolis for another thirty minutes. They have to ram her car to get her to stop. And again she refuses to get out and cooperate. According to the police she sits in her car, giving them the finger, and says through the glass and I quote, ‘Give me a minute, I want to finish my beer. It’s my last one so just hold on.’ She drinks the rest of her beer before finally opening her door and surrendering.

  “Then they arrest her, take her to the Fourth Precinct where she blows a point two three. Is that about it?”

  Marc nodded his head a couple of times then said, “Sounds about right.”

  Shelby opened the file again while asking, “Is there a probation report?”

  “Yes, your Honor. She needs serious jail time. We want a plea to the felony resisting and the gross misdemeanor DWI. Twenty-four months,” Ramsey said.

  “Judge, she needs treatment,” Marc said.

  “Obviously,” Shelby said. “Tell you what. How about she pleads to the felony resisting and the gross DWI. I give her a year in county. Does she have a job?”

  “Yes, judge, she does,” Marc said.

  “Okay, she can have work release. She agrees to treatment. I hang an additional twenty-four months over her head for five years. If she completes treatment and stays sober and law abiding at the end of the five years the whole thing drops to a misdemeanor. Plus a three thousand dollar fine.