“Pretty circumstantial,” the other cop said.
“It works, though.”
“Hey, Owen,” the two of them heard a man yell.
They turned and saw another cop with his head sticking up through the open trap door.
“You better get down here and see what we found.”
“Just a second, Paul,” Jefferson yelled back.
He turned back to the other searcher and said, “Scott, see if you can lift this plank by yourself and put it back.”
“Don’t let me fall,” Scott said as he grabbed the long boards with both hands. He struggled a bit and it wasn’t easy but he did manage to lift the plank up and bring it back. He put it back where they found it and said, “It’s not easy. The thing probably weighs one fifty to one sixty but it can be done.”
“Wait here, I’ll send someone up to take pictures,” Jefferson told him.
Jefferson went back down the stairs and into Howie’s apartment. He dispatched the photographer up to the roof then followed Paul Thornton into the bedroom.
“Sara found this,” Thornton said pointing out the objects lying on the bed.
“Holy shit. Now we gotcha you sonofabitch,” Jefferson quietly said as he leaned over to examine the items on the bed.
The three things lined up on Howie’s bed were what looked to be ten to twelve feet of coiled barbed wire, a pair of heavy wire cutters and thick leather work gloves. Without touching them, Jefferson carefully examined each.
“Where were they?” Jefferson asked.
“In between the mattress and box spring,” Sara said.
“Did you photograph them…?”
“Yes, as soon as I found them.”
“Great work,” Jefferson replied as he straightened up. “Bag’em, tag ‘em and get them to the lab ASAP. And Paul, there’s stuff on the roof to place into evidence. Scott will show you. I have to take off. Have Carly email me a photo of this stuff, right away,” he continued referring to the items on the bed.
There was a soft knock on Marc Kadella’s office door. Before he could respond, Carolyn opened it and seeing him on the phone, quietly told Marc that she needed to interrupt him.
“I have another call I have to take Uncle Larry,” Marc said as an excuse to end the call. He listened for a moment then replied, “Yes, I’ll deposit your check. Relax. I’m ready for your trial. I have to go.”
Marc hung up the phone, shook his head then looked at Carolyn who was suppressing a laugh and said, “What?”
“You need to come out and see this. It’s all over the news.”
He followed her into the office common area where he found a crowd gathered in front of the television.
“Check it out,” Barry Cline said to him, referring to the TV.
Marc peered between the shoulders of Barry and the office paralegal, Jeff Modell. On the screen was Gabriella Shirqui in a hallway at the police headquarters reporting the arrest of Howie Traynor. The entire office watched in silence for several minutes while an anchorwoman asked Gabriella a few questions, most of which Gabriella could not answer.
The TV went to a commercial and Sandy, the other full time legal secretary, hit the remote and shut it off.
The office landlord, Connie Mickleson was leaning against Carolyn’s desk. Marc looked at her and she asked, “You going downtown to see him?”
“I don’t know, I suppose,” Marc sighed. “I guess I’m his lawyer, at least for now.”
The office phone rang and Sandy answered it while the lawyers were discussing Marc’s obligation. Sandy spoke into the phone by saying, “I’ll see if he’s available.” She put the caller on hold, looked at Marc and said, “Guess who.”
“Is it him?” Marc asked.
“Yep. What do you want me to tell him?”
“I’ll take it,” Marc answered as he walked toward his office.
He left his door open so everyone could crowd in and listen. There wasn’t much conversation and it only lasted a minute or so. Marc ended it by saying, “Okay, Howie, I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. Until then, don’t talk to anyone.”
He hung up the phone, looked at the faces crowding into his doorway and said, “Why do I get a bad feeling about this?”
Marc finished reading the copies of the search and arrest warrants that had been given to Howie. They both seemed to be in order and he placed them on the table. He was in a small attorney-client conference room at the jail alone with Howie. Marc reached in his inside suit coat pocket and removed a photo print Steve Gondeck had given him.
“What can you tell me about this?” Marc asked as he handed the photo to Howie.
Howie looked at it and with a puzzled expression said, “I don’t know. It looks like some kind of wire, wire cutters and gloves.”
“You’ve never seen them before?”
Howie looked at the photo again and said, “The gloves are mine, I think. They look like the ones I had at work. They’ve been missing for three or four days. Where were they?”
“The cops say they found them in your apartment between your bed’s mattress and box spring.”
“Then they put ‘em there,” Howie angrily replied. “Are they charging me with something?”
“Did you tell anyone your gloves were missing?” Marc asked ignoring his question.
“Sure, Father John. He gave me the money for a new pair. I bought them at the store I go to and they’re at the church.”
“Are you sure? Will he remember it?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. He should remember it,” Howie answered him.
“Okay, good,” Marc said. “I’ll check with the priest. To answer your question, yes, they’re charging you with second-degree murder for the death of your old partner, Jimmy Oliver,” Marc told him.
“I knew it. I knew as soon as it happened they’d try to lay it on me. Sonofabitch, sonofabitch, sonofabitch…” Howie quietly replied with despondency in his voice.
He lowered his head and looked down at the table top. Only silence passed between the two men for almost a minute. Finally, Howie looked at Marc and said almost pleadingly, “I didn’t do this, Mr. Kadella.”
“Marc,” Marc corrected him.
“I didn’t do this, Marc,” Howie repeated more emphatically.
“Okay,” Marc replied. “What do you want from me?”
“Aren’t you my lawyer?”
“Not on this, I’m not. Is that what you want?”
“Well, yeah!”
“Relax,” Marc said holding up a hand to calm him. “We need to talk about this and get it straight, okay?”
“Okay, sure.”
“Do you have any money or any source of money?”
“Not really,” Howie said. “Do we need to talk about this now?”
“Yes, we do,” Marc said. “A case like this will consume me for months. I need to know I’ll get paid. I’m not a rich lawyer. Very, very few are. There are other lawyers around, a few who would be willing to take your case…”
“I don’t want one of them. I want you.”
“Okay,” Marc nodded. “I can take a lien against your lawsuit with the city. I’ll talk to your lawyer about that, Albright.”
“She already loaned me some money maybe she’ll loan me some more,” Howie said hopefully.
“We’ll see. For now, here’s the deal. I talked to the prosecutor who will try this case. He told me they’re taking this to a grand jury. I think they might want to charge you with some of the other so-called Crown of Thornes killings. We’ll see.
“Tomorrow or the next day they’re going to bring you to court for arraignment on the second-degree charge. Once the judge hears this is the Crown of Thornes case, you can forget bail. Until then, keep your mouth shut. Call Albright and talk to her about money. She was on TV last night promoting herself so I know she’s back in town. Sign this,” Marc said as he slid a two-page document and pen to him. “It’s a retainer agreement.”
Without bothering to look it over,
Howie signed both pages and handed it and the pen back to Marc. Marc placed it in his briefcase, stood up and tapped his knuckles on the door.
“I have to take off. I have some things to get started on. I’ll tell the cops no one is to talk to you without me being present. Remember what I told you. Talk to no one, especially other inmates and call Glenda Albright. Don’t tell her anything either. Have her call me or I’ll call her tomorrow. I’ll be back to see you tomorrow.”
Later that same evening, Maddy parked her Audi almost two blocks away from her destination. She had been to the Lakeview Tavern three or four times, always with Carvelli and always work related. Each time there had been parking available almost in front of the place. Tonight the cars were lined up on both sides of the street for two blocks in each direction.
Maddy entered the usually quiet, neighborhood bar and was stopped in her tracks by the size of the crowd. One of the customers, mostly men with a smattering of a few women, turned to her when she came in. Maddy recognized the man as an MPD burglary detective she slightly knew.
“Hi, Maddy,” the man said.
Like a light bulb coming on, just before she spoke to respond to him, his name popped into her head. “Hi, John. Have you seen Tony Carvelli?” She almost shouted to be heard above the din of the crowd.
“Yeah,” the detective said leaning close to her ear. “He’s up at the bar.”
“Thanks,” she said back. It took her a couple of minutes but she managed to squeeze her way through the crowd. While she did this she saw the large banner on the wall to her left. “Welcome Home Jake” was what it read.
Carvelli saw her approaching and waved her forward. When she got to him he said, “Hey, kid. Glad you made it.” Tony turned to the guest of honor standing next to him. He pulled on the man’s arm to turn him toward himself and Maddy.
“Jake,” Tony said, “this is Maddy Rivers…”
“I remember you,” Jake Washcke said as he extended his hand to her. “You were the P.I. that worked for that defense lawyer, Kadella. How are you?” he pleasantly said with a friendly smile.
“Oops,” Maddy replied taking his hand. “I was hoping you’d forgotten.”
Waschke laughed and said, “You’re not easy to forget. How’s the lawyer, is he coming?”
Maddy looked at Tony who said, “I don’t think I invited him. I’m not sure how well a defense lawyer would do in a bar filled with cops.”
“You look good,” Maddy said to the former MPD lieutenant.
“Prison agreed with me,” Washcke laughed. “I quit smoking, lost weight and exercised a lot.”
“Well, welcome home,” Maddy said a bit uncomfortably. She leaned into Carvelli and whispered in his ear, “I need to talk to you, outside.”
The two friends made their way back through the crowd and onto the sidewalk. Maddy lead Tony a half block away, stopped and said, “I heard the cops found barbed wire, gloves and a wire cutter in Traynor’s apartment.”
“Yeah,” Tony said, “between his mattress and box spring.”
“That’s what I heard,” Maddy said. “Tony, I checked between the mattress and box spring when I was in there yesterday. There was nothing there.”
The two of them looked at each other for a few seconds then Carvelli said, “You’re sure?”
Maddy said nothing but gave him a look with a raised eyebrow, “What do you think?”
“Sorry, dumb question,” Tony answered her. “What the hell…”
THIRTY-SIX
Gabriella Shriqui knocked on the office door of her boss, Hunter Oswood, the News Director at Channel 8. Without waiting for a response, Gabriella opened the door and entered. Waiting for her were the station’s General Manager Madison Eyler, Oswood, Melinda Pace and Melinda’s personal producer, Cordelia Davis. Gabriella greeted everyone and sat down on Cordelia’s right in front of Oswood’s desk.
“Thanks for coming, Gabriella,” Madison Eyler said, starting the conversation.
Madison Eyler was leaning against the window sill to Gabriella’s left. Oswood was seated behind his desk and Melinda, whom Gabriella despised and with good reason, was seated to Cordelia’s left.
Gabriella knew what this meeting was about. Melinda Pace, after a suspension lasting several months, was going back on the air. Her show, The Court Reporter had been a huge success and money-maker for the station. It was also used as a half-hour lead-in to the five o’clock news. As its name implied, the show was about court activity both locally and nationally. Especially interesting to the audience were notorious criminal cases. With the arrest of Howie Traynor the day before, Gabriella knew Melinda was circling like a vulture to cover the Crown of Thornes case. Knowing what was coming, Gabriella was determined to handle herself in a calm, objective, professional manner.
“How do you feel about working with Melinda on the Crown of Thornes case?” Oswood asked Gabriella.
“That depends on her,” Gabriella calmly replied. “I won’t be a party to another fiasco like the Riley case. So ask her, can she conduct herself like a professional?”
“I resent….” Melinda started to sputter.
“What? You resent what, Melinda?” Gabriella interrupted her leaning forward and turning her head to look at Melinda.
“She has a good point, Melinda,” Madison Eyler said. “Let’s not rehash the past. Do you understand Gabriella’s concerns?”
A thoroughly chastened Melinda meekly replied, “Yes, I understand.”
“We need to get on top of this,” Oswood said to both women. “This is a huge story. This station’s credibility took an enormous hit…”
“We got our asses kicked,” Eyler interjected.
“…and I want it restored.” This last point was made while Oswood stared directly at Melinda Pace.
“I have a question,” Gabriella said.
“Go ahead,” Oswood told her.
“You put me in charge of the coverage of this case. I make all of the decisions subject only to your approval. Is that still the deal?” Gabriella asked.
“Yes,” Eyler said. “That’s still the deal.”
“Then she works for me,” Gabriella said referring to Melinda.
“Yes, that’s correct,” Oswood agreed.
Gabriella leaned forward again to look around Cordelia Davis who had remained uncomfortably silent. Gabriella looked at Melinda and said, “You work for me, I don’t work for you. What I say goes. You don’t put anything on the air that I disapprove of.”
“Mine is an opinion show,” Melinda tried to argue. “Sometimes the audience likes strong opinions.”
“The main thing I want to get through your head,” Gabriella started to say, her anger becoming apparent, “is the concept of innocent until proven guilty. Are you clear about that? For Christ’s sake, Melinda, you went to law school. Didn’t anyone mention that to you in the three years you were there?”
“I got it,” Melinda softly replied. “I know I went too far with Brittany Riley and I feel terrible about it. It won’t happen again.”
“Hand it to her,” Eyler told Oswood.
“I’ve taken the liberty of writing an apology you will make at the start of your show today,” Oswood told Melinda. He reached across his desk and handed a single sheet copy of a paper to Gabriella, Cordelia and Melinda.
Melinda took hers and without even glancing at it said, “I’ll look it over and tell you what I think.”
“You will read it verbatim or I will fire your ass here and now,” Eyler sternly said. “It’s already on the teleprompter. Make sure you get it right.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Melinda replied while Gabriella and Cordelia read over the apology.
When Gabriella finished reading the apology, Oswood asked, “Anything you want to add?”
“No,” Gabriella said. “This should be fine.”
“Okay,” Oswood continued. “We’re all on the same page?” he asked looking at Melinda.
“Can I say something?” Melinda politely ask
ed.
“Sure.”
“I know I can be a total pain-in-the-ass prima donna, but I really did learn my lesson. I have to live with what happened to the Riley family and well, I just want to say I’ll do my best. I am grateful for another chance and I won’t let you down.”
Gabriella stayed behind when Melinda and Cordelia left. “Is she really off the booze?”
Oswood shrugged and answered her by saying, “Cordelia says she is but we’ll see.”
“I think she is,” Eyler said. “She looks a lot better and seems better.”
“Do you believe her?” Gabriella asked.
“I don’t know,” Oswood sighed. “I think so but keep an eye on her.”
“Traynor is being arraigned at one o’clock. I’ll be there. No TV though,” Gabriella said.
“We’ve joined in with the other TV stations to bring a motion to have the case televised,” Eyler told her.
“The judge has discretion and Traynor’s lawyer is the same guy who represented Brittany Riley. I doubt he’ll want this on TV,” Gabriella replied. “I’ll see if I can get an interview with him today.”
Marc waited with growing unease and impatience for the deputies to bring Howie Traynor to the courtroom. He was seated at one of the tables inside the bar anxious to get Howie’s arraignment over with. At the other table was Steve Gondeck, the head felony litigator with the county attorney’s office and a man Marc knew well.
The two of them had been in here since noon and had just come from the judge’s chambers. While Judge Annette Koch ate lunch at her desk, she heard a motion concerning TV coverage of the arraignment. There were seven lawyers present all representing various local or national TV news outlets plus Marc and Gondeck.
The judge patiently heard each lawyer take his or her turn making the same basic argument. When they finished, Judge Koch looked at Marc and Gondeck sitting together on the judge’s couch.
“What do you think, Mr. Gondeck?”
“We do not oppose the motion, your Honor,” Gondeck replied while the court reporter continued to make a record of the hearing.
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