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

by Dennis Carstens

  “That ten to two vote might dissuade them, don’t you think?” Maddy asked.

  “Yeah, and if they do try it again, Andy is going to help with jury selection. Nice call,” Marc said.

  Mackenzie’s bail was continued but her travel restrictions were removed following the ruling of a mistrial. The next day, Thursday morning, Mackenzie was up early and on the road shortly after 7:00.

  It was a chilly, early March morning and Mackenzie disguised herself with a hooded coat with the hood covering her head and most of her face. She was also wearing large, black sunglasses. Fortunately the cool weather made wearing leather gloves less noticeable.

  Her first stop was at a FedEx store in a strip mall in Stillwater off I-94. Mackenzie had the young girl behind the counter make a copy of the documents she had, picked up a FedEx envelope then left.

  Mackenzie got back on 94 eastbound, crossed the St. Croix River into Wisconsin then took the first exit into Hudson. She parked in the Hudson FedEx lot and placed the copies she had made and copies of a dozen photos in the envelope. She addressed it and took it into the store and had it shipped for same day delivery. While accomplishing this, not once did she touch any of it without wearing gloves. Nothing could be traced back to her.

  FIFTY-THREE

  “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, I’m Gabriella Shriqui and this is the Court Reporter,” Gabriella smiled into the camera and began the taping of the Thursday afternoon show. It was originally scheduled to be taped at noon but was delayed while they watched a short press conference given by Shayla Parker.

  “My guest today, and I’m delighted to have him back, is local attorney Marc Kadella.” She swiveled in her chair to face Marc. They were using the more informal, intimate set of two stylish armchairs with a coffee table between them.

  “Welcome back, Marc. Thanks for taking the time to come on the show.”

  “Always a pleasure, Gabriella. Besides, this way I get to check out your tits and ass to see if they…”

  “Stop!” Gabriella said while holding back her laughter. Most of the crew was having a pretty good time with Marc’s irreverent comment. “Is this the way this is going to go?”

  “Maybe,” Marc replied. “I should have warned you, I’m in a pretty good mood today. Stress release from the trial being over, for now.”

  “Okay,” Gabriella began, “we’re going try this again and you be a good boy.”

  “No promises,” he said.

  Gabriella looked at her producer, Cordelia Davis, who said, “We’ll cut out the smartass stuff. Begin with reminding the audience who he is.”

  “For those of you who don’t know, Marc is the defense lawyer who represented Mackenzie Sutherland in the Ramsey County trial for the death of her husband, William Sutherland, founder of Sutherland’s grocery stores. The trial ended yesterday with a hung jury and mistrial.”

  Gabriella then had Marc briefly explain what a hung jury and mistrial meant.

  “Did you know Shayla Parker, the Ramsey County Attorney, held a press conference at noon to announce that they will pursue another trial against your client?”

  “Yes, I saw it on TV. I’m not really surprised. All along I had the impression that she was using this case for her personal, political agenda,” Marc replied.

  “That’s a serious accusation. Why do you think this?” Gabriella asked.

  “Because their case was thin to begin with and she was taking a lot of heat from the media about it because my client has money. Now she’s going to make it worse by trying it again and wasting more of the taxpayer’s money. She’s lucky there wasn’t an acquittal. The vote was ten to two in favor of a not guilty verdict. Two holdouts out of twelve people.”

  The two of them spent another six or seven minutes discussing the evidence, mostly to allow Marc to talk about the strength of his case and the weakness of the prosecution’s. He used this as an opportunity to taint the jury pool even more than the local newspapers, TV and radio already had in the event of a second trial. The same media who had pressured the county attorney to try it in the first place were now piously wondering why Parker did and if it made sense to do a second trial.

  “Hold it,” Cordelia said, interrupting them. “That’s pretty good and we have enough for the show.”

  “Anything else you want to cover, Marc?” Gabriella asked then said, “And don’t make any smartass comments about my body parts.”

  “Only if the cameras are on,” Marc smiled. “No, that’s good. You can call me Monday after we meet with Judge Carr and I’ll let you know the new trial date, if there is one.”

  “Why wouldn’t there be?”

  Marc shrugged and said, “They could come to their senses and change their minds.”

  On Sunday morning, Mackenzie once again awoke earlier than normal. She hurried downstairs and as she stepped off of the bottom stair she heard the newspaper thumping onto her front door stoop. Mackenzie was eagerly looking for a story as she had both Friday and Saturday mornings. She plodded across the cold, marble floor in her bare feet, tightening the belt of the bathrobe as she did so. After retrieving the St. Paul Dispatch Sunday paper, she went into the kitchen and took it from its plastic bag, opened it to the front page of the A section and delightfully smiled at the screaming headlines.

  Almost laughing, she poured herself a cup of coffee and took a seat at the breakfast island. Mackenzie sipped her coffee while reading the headline’s again, checked the time on the wall clock and wondered how long it would be before Marc called.

  Mackenzie read through every word of the story twice, a story Mackenzie ignited when she drove over to Hudson to FedEx the documents and photos. What she sent to a well-known reporter at the St Paul paper was proof-positive documentation of the affair between Judge Otis Carr and County Attorney Shayla Parker. Dates, times, places, photos, credit card receipts from hotels and restaurants. Everything her P.I. had come up with to slam the both of them and to at least document the appearance of impropriety of Judge Carr presiding over her trial.

  At precisely 7:15 Mackenzie’s phone rang. She looked at the ID, pressed the talk function and said, “Good morning, Marc. You’re up early.”

  “I’ve had at least a half-dozen phone calls from reporters already. I’ve just spent the last fifteen minutes watching the local news. Have you seen it?”

  “Yes, I have the St. Paul paper right here. I assume you’re talking about Judge Carr and Shayla Parker,” Mackenzie answered him.

  “I’ve been trying to decide if you had anything to do with this,” he calmly said.

  “What difference does it make? Besides, no one forced them to have an affair. So they got caught? So what?”

  “And that’s the same conclusion I came to,” Marc replied. “Well, as long as we’re both up, how about I take you to breakfast.”

  “I need time to shower and get ready,” Mackenzie said.

  “How long? Eight, eight fifteen?” Marc asked.

  “8:30,” Mackenzie said.

  “Okay, 8:30.”

  “What does this mean as far as them trying this again?” Mackenzie asked.

  “Well, they still could, but I don’t see it happening. This would be huge grounds for an appeal, maybe.”

  “Why maybe?” Mackenzie asked.

  “We might still have to show bias in the judge’s rulings. Look, we’re getting ahead of ourselves. We’ll know more tomorrow. I’ll see you in about an hour.”

  Around three o’clock that same Sunday afternoon, Marc received the phone call he had been expecting. Tyrone Carver, Carr’s clerk, was calling with news about the Monday morning meeting with Carr. Not surprisingly it had been called off. Instead, they were to meet with Chief Judge Douglas Feller in his chambers at 8:00 A.M.

  What’s going on?” Marc asked Tyrone.

  “I don’t know any more than that, Mr. Kadella. You’ve seen the news, I guess.”

  “Oh yeah, I’ve had reporters calling me all day. How are you doing?”
r />   “Okay.”

  “Listen, Tyrone, no matter how all this shakes out, I hope you don’t lose your job.”

  “No, I’ll be okay. I’ll get another spot with another judge, I’m not worried.”

  “Good. I guess I’ll see Judge Feller in the morning. Thanks, Tyrone.”

  At 7:55 Monday morning, Marc found Heather Anderson and Danica Kyle waiting for him in Judge Feller’s courtroom. They greeted each other, shook hands and Marc asked, “So, what is it going to be?”

  “Nothing’s been decided,” Heather said. “We just got the bombshell dropped on us yesterday, like everybody else.”

  Marc smiled and said, “Look, I’m not accusing you of anything, but you knew what was going on.”

  Heather tried her best to look innocent then rolled her eyes to the ceiling and said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “No press here this morning,” Marc casually remarked looking about the empty courtroom.

  “Yet,” Danica said.

  Feller’s clerk came into the courtroom and led them back to his chambers. “Good morning,” Feller said as they filed in. “Please take a seat.”

  They introduced themselves and when they were seated Feller said to Heather, “Are you going to try this case again?”

  “I don’t know, your Honor. It’s not my call. The last word I had from Shayla, who is still the county attorney…”

  “Not for long,” Feller interrupted her. “She’s supposedly tendering her resignation today. She’ll be sending it to Governor Dahlstrom, Attorney General Peterson, the mayor and myself. At least that’s what I’ve been told. I can tell you this, there will be a press release this morning. Otis Carr is taking an indefinite leave of absence.”

  “Then I assume it will be Paul Schmidt’s decision,” Heather said. “Paul’s the chief deputy county attorney,” Heather said to Marc.

  “You know your office is going to be up to your ass in appeals over this,” Feller told Heather.

  “I know,” Heather agreed. “Every lawyer that had a case before Carr is going to file. Fortunately, I don’t handle appeals.”

  “Let’s take a break,” Feller said. “You call Paul Schmidt and find out what he wants to do with this case. Tell him from me, I’ll assign another judge but I think you’re wasting the court’s time. Go give him a call, then tell Carmen when you’re ready.”

  When Feller said he thought they were wasting the court’s time, Marc’s heart took a big jump. This was not a casual statement. Although Feller could not order the prosecution to drop the case, letting Heather know the judge thought it was a waste of the court’s time was the next best thing. Wasting the court’s time was probably the number one “do not do” on every lawyer’s list. Judges hated it and if you do it you’ll likely pay for it.

  As the three of them were passing through the courtroom’s back door Marc said, “So, Shayla’s out. That won’t help her political career.”

  Heather set her briefcase on a table and said, “You know as much as I do. Let me see if I can get a hold of Paul,” she continued as she removed her phone from a skirt pocket.

  “I’ll wait in the hall,” Marc said to let Heather have a private conversation. “Let me know when you’re done.”

  Barely five minutes later, Heather opened the hallway door and motioned for Marc to come back into the courtroom. She held the door for him and when they got to the tables inside the bar he sat down and looked at her.

  “Okay, please keep this to yourself for now,” Heather said to both Marc and Danica.

  “It’s true, Shayla’s resigning today. She’ll probably stay on for a few days until things settle down. That’s according to Paul. Until then Paul will be making all of the major decisions.

  “We both agreed, with everything that has happened it would be too costly and difficult to continue this case. So, we’re going to go into chambers and ask for Judge Feller to put it on the record and dismiss.”

  “Don’t forget to have my client’s bail money returned and the Sutherland inheritance, the twenty-seven million, have the hold on it removed.”

  “Will do,” Heather agreed.

  FIFTY-FOUR

  The weekend after the prosecution dismissed the indictment against Mackenzie Sutherland, Sunday afternoon to be exact, Madeline Rivers was mentally working through a dilemma. A couple of days after it was dismissed, Maddy had wrapped up a small investigation she was doing. Her bank account, thanks to Mackenzie Sutherland, was in the best shape it had been in since she could not remember when. Because of this, she decided to take a few days off and simply relax.

  Maddy was not someone who could simply relax. Less than two days later, something that had nagged at her in the back of her mind returned. Maddy’s curiosity got the better of her and she started doing some online research. Thanks to the internet, tracking down a great deal of information on someone was a lot easier on the feet than back in the old Sam Spade, gumshoe days.

  The dilemma she was now thinking over on this dreary Sunday afternoon was because of what she had found. Maddy started off hoping she would not find what she did. Now that she had found it, she could not ignore it either. She sat cross-legged on her couch sipping a light chardonnay and blankly staring at the rain through her living room’s bay window.

  “Should’ve left well enough alone,” she quietly said to herself. “When are you going to learn to mind your own business?”

  Maddy picked up her phone off of the coffee table and punched the first number in her directory. It was answered before the first ring finished.

  “Hey, sailor,” she said, “want to buy a girl a drink?”

  “Is she easy and open-minded?” the man said.

  “Don’t make me hurt you, Carvelli.”

  “What’s up, sweetheart?” Maddy’s good friend, fellow P.I. and sometime mentor Tony Carvelli asked.

  “I need some advice,” she said. “Can we meet today?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Come over and I’ll make you dinner.”

  “The last time you offered to make me dinner I had to go grocery shopping for you. It would’ve been cheaper to take you to a restaurant.”

  “I got enough lasagna for two,” Carvelli said. “And wine. Although, if you don’t mind….”

  “Here it comes,” Maddy said smiling.

  “You could pick up some salad. You know, one of those bags of salad,” he said.

  “Is that it?”

  “Oh, uh, how about some French bread and Italian salad dressing. Stop at a Sutherland’s,” Carvelli said.

  “Anything else?” Maddy asked with a touch of sarcasm.

  “No that should do it. See you in an hour?” he asked.

  “About that,” Maddy said finally laughing.

  While Madeline cleaned up the dinner dishes in the kitchen, Tony sat at the dining room table looking over what Maddy brought with her. He had been at it for about twenty minutes when she finished in the kitchen, came back to the table, poured each of them a little more wine and sat down.

  Tony made two separate piles of the reports and photos, picked up his glass for a small swallow then set the glass down. Maddy quietly waited in the first chair to his right.

  “These two,” Tony began patting the pictures and documents in the pile to his right, “I don’t think so. The photos are close but the dates would be a little thin. Too close to the one in Chicago. And they’re both in California.”

  “I agree,” Maddy said.

  “But these two,” Tony continued indicating the ones to his left, “I’m about ninety percent convinced, especially the one in Milwaukee. And if he’s one then the one in St. Pete is a likely one too.”

  “Timing is right and the name is the same for both,” Maddy agreed. “The question is: what do I do now?”

  Tony thought about the question for a moment, sipped his wine before saying, “What would you like to do?”

  “I’d like to burn it all and forget I ever saw it,” Maddy replied.


  “Then do that,” Tony said. “Except, you can’t just forget it.”

  “I think Marc’s involved with her,” Maddy told him.

  “Personally?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He should’ve never broke up with Margaret,” Tony said.

  “From what Marc told me, that was pretty much a mutual decision.”

  “If it’s even possible he might be involved with her, you have to show him this,” Tony said referring to what Maddy had discovered. “Tomorrow.”

  “I know,” Maddy sighed. “That’s what I needed to talk to you about.”

  “Do you want me to be there?”

  Maddy thought about it for a moment then said, “No, I can do it. In fact, I won’t tell him we even talked unless I think it’s necessary.”

  “Maddy’s here,” Carolyn told Marc. She was standing in Marc’s doorway with Maddy behind her looking over Carolyn’s shoulder. Maddy had called in the morning while Marc was in court and had Carolyn block out Marc’s entire afternoon schedule for her.

  “Hi,” Marc said as Carolyn stood aside to let Maddy into Marc’s office. “Are you in trouble of some kind?” he asked wondering why she needed the entire afternoon with him.

  She set her small satchel briefcase on Marc’s desk, sat down and began by saying, “No, but I have something important to see you about. You remember that during the trial I had my doubts about Mackenzie’s innocence?”

  “What have you done, Madeline?” Marc seriously asked.

  “Probably something I shouldn’t have,” she admitted. “Don’t be mad at me, please. I’ve found some things I’m not sure what to do with. I’m not even sure I can or should do anything with this. I at least need to show it to you.”

  Maddy explained that despite the hung jury, she retained some doubts about Mackenzie. Instead of letting the doubts go, she spent the last few days researching the internet. She was looking for wealthy men with younger wives who died suddenly leaving the merry widow very merry indeed.