[Marc Kadella 02.0] Desperate Justice

by Dennis Carstens

  He left his car with an attendant, entered the two-story, eighteen thousand square foot building through the solid oak double front doors but not before allowing the security camera a good look. An attractive, middle-aged woman, with dark auburn hair, a stylish cocktail dress and five-inch spiked heel shoes warmly greeted him in the foyer.

  “Hello, Judge,” she said as she linked her left arm through his right and began guiding him into the building’s interior.

  “Hello, Charlene,” Prentiss pleasantly replied.

  “It is nice to see you again,” she said with a practiced smile. “What can we do for you tonight?”

  “I was thinking I could use some pampering. Some stress release.”

  “Wonderful! I know just what you like,” Leo’s hostess replied as the two of them began climbing a stairway to the second floor. She opened a door to one of the private rooms, a tastefully furnished suite with a king size bed and an expensive oak table around which were four chairs in front of a small fireplace.

  Prentiss opened his checkbook, removed his platinum AMEX card and handed it to Charlene. She thanked him and discreetly backed out of the room. He went to the bar and poured himself a glass of champagne as two pretty, slender, very young girls, one a light brown-skinned, black-haired Asian and the other a blonde white girl entered through a door in the back wall beside the bed. They were dressed identically in black lace bras and panties. They introduced themselves as Nicolette and Yuke.

  Prentiss moved to the bed and sat down on it between the two girls. As the white girl began to undress him, the other went to the table and returned holding a mirror covered tray. She took one of the ecstasy pills and playfully put it in Prentiss’s mouth and then swirled her tongue around his ear.

  As Nicolette finished removing his shirt Yuke held up the tray and handed him a short straw. There were four lines of cocaine neatly laid out on the glass. Prentiss inhaled two lines, finished his champagne and handed the glass to Yuke to be refilled as Nicolette pulled off his pants and socks.

  He slipped off his boxers and positioned himself on the pillows in the middle of the bed leaning against the headboard. Prentiss watched the girls as they began to kiss and fondle each other. The cocaine and ecstasy started to work and after about fifteen minutes of being entertained voyeuristically, the giggling girls turned their attentions on him. As Nicolette began to fellate him, Yuke took a plastic hose with an inhaler attached to the end and placed the inhaler over his nose. Within seconds, the nitrous oxide, cocaine and ecstasy had Prentiss floating in a blissful, euphoric state.

  Three hours later, having had his AMEX card charged two thousand five hundred dollars, Gordon Prentiss got in his car and headed home.

  TWENTY-NINE

  The car Prentiss saw in his mirror that he believed had turned onto a side road just before he arrived at his destination had not turned at all. As he had done several times before while trailing the judge, Tony had simply turned off his lights while staying a discreet distance behind him.

  After dropping off Vivian Donahue, Tony had hurried to the Prentiss residence in the hope that this might be the night he could follow Prentiss to Leo’s mystery house. Tony had been on station three minutes when he saw the Lincoln pull out of Prentiss’s driveway. Carvelli had considered putting a tracking device on the car but had ultimately decided against it. He was a little old school, didn’t totally trust the devices and he was quite confident he could follow Prentiss without being discovered. Freeway traffic, even for a late Saturday night, was enough to easily fool an amateur like the judge. It wasn’t until they went onto side roads and residential streets that he had to be more cautious.

  Tony could see the Lincoln’s tail lights approximately a half mile ahead which told him the county road they were on was straight. As he carefully drove ahead in the darkness, he saw the brake lights come on when Prentiss arrived at his turn. Carvelli slowly crawled along for another three hundred or so yards then pulled over to the side of the road when he saw Prentiss had stopped at the gate. Tony checked his car’s display map and it indicated there was no public road leading off to where Prentiss turned.

  Tony patiently waited while the guard checked Prentiss’ identification and then allowed the Lincoln to pass. Realizing this must be the place, Tony again checked the map display which showed a street to take on the left about two hundred yards up ahead. With his lights still off, he slowly drove ahead until he found the turn, took it and parked a hundred yards up the street from the corner.

  Carvelli was still wearing the suit he had worn to the fundraiser, but he wanted to get a look at the place where Prentiss had stopped. He could see houses straight ahead but on the corner where he had turned, it was totally undeveloped woods. This would give him excellent concealment. Walking through it to see the spot where his quarry had stopped probably wouldn’t do his suit any favors.

  There was just enough moonlight peeking through the cloudy sky to help him navigate through the trees. It took him about five minutes, moving slowly and quietly, to reach the spot across the road from the guard shack. In the darkness, the light from the small shack was enough to let him see everything he needed. Carvelli squatted behind a tree and watched the two bored guards, a couple of Leo’s thugs, he assumed, walk around in front of the closed gate.

  Carvelli observed the scene for two minutes then quietly made his way back to where he had left his car. Tony emerged from the trees and as he hurried to his Camaro, brushed off his suit which had made the trip mostly unscathed.

  Before pulling out for the drive back, he checked his GPS monitor and wrote down the exact location in the notebook he kept in the car’s console. He made a U-turn on the street where he had parked and drove back to the road he came from. Instead of trying to retrace the route Prentiss had taken, he saw from the map display that the road he was on would take him straight back to the freeway.

  When he arrived at the freeway interchange, he pulled into a gas station to fill up the car. Tony was just about done fueling the Camaro when he saw a man emerge from the station’s convenience store and begin walking toward a car two islands over.

  “Well, well,” he said softly to himself. “What have we here? What are you doing out in this neck of the woods?” he continued as the man got in his car.

  Tony quickly stopped fueling and having used a credit card to pay, jumped back in his car as the man he had recognized pulled away from the pumps. Carvelli watched as the car turned left out of the station to head down the road Carvelli had come from.

  “Well Conrad, what do you say we see where you’re headed,” Tony said aloud to himself as he pulled out to follow him.

  Tony stayed about a half mile behind the car, safely assuming he knew where the man was going. He again occasionally switched off his headlights to give the illusion to the driver that the car following had turned.

  Carvelli cruised to a stop, lights off, in almost the exact same spot he had stopped when following Prentiss. He again watched as this man also turned into the same guarded driveway. This time, though, the car barely stopped before it was allowed to pass through. Apparently the guards were very familiar with its occupant.

  “Okay, Conrad,” Tony said out loud to himself when the car disappeared into the trees, “it seems you and I need to have a little chat ‘cause I know damn well you’re not a member of this particular club, but I do believe I know what you’re up to.”

  THIRTY

  The next morning, a Sunday, Tony made a call while seated at his kitchen table. It was shortly after nine and he was drinking his first cup of coffee. The call was answered on the third ring.

  “Hello, sweetheart,” he said when the woman answered. “I hope I’m not disturbing anything. Are you alone?”

  “That’s none of your business,” Madeline Rivers answered.

  “So you are alone,” he laughed.

  “Not at all,” she said, “I have an extremely gorgeous male sitting right here on the couch next to me.”

&
nbsp; “Bubba’s a cat,” Tony said referring to the beautiful, Himalayan Siamese she had that had been a gift from a woman who could no longer care for him, “and he doesn’t count.”

  “Depends on what you’re looking for,” she laughed. “In fact, he might be the best boyfriend I’ve ever had. Loyal, affectionate and he doesn’t drink or snore. So what’s up you big lug, what’ve you been up to? I haven’t heard from you for a while.”

  “I’ve been pretty busy with a case, which is why I called. I need a favor,” Tony answered. “Plus it’s for my case and I’ll pay you for it.”

  “Okay. How much and who do I have to kill?”

  “Five hundred cash and all you have to do is pick up a guy in a bar…”

  “What do you think I am?”

  “Relax,” he laughed, “it’s not like that. There’ll be nothing to it. It’s a guy I need to talk to and I don’t want him to see me coming. Besides, if this guy gets out of line, I guarantee you can kick his ass without breaking a sweat.”

  “Will he be armed?” she asked.

  “No, I doubt it. That’s not his thing. He’s a surveillance guy. A techie. You know the type. No people skills. Used to work for law enforcement, including the FBI. Now he’s freelance. One of the best in the business.”

  “Okay,” she said. “So, tell me what you need.”

  Tony then spent the next ten minutes telling the stunningly beautiful Ms. Rivers, a good friend and fellow P.I., what he needed from her.

  Madeline Rivers was a Chicago police officer until she foolishly posed for PLAYBOY magazine, mostly as a lark. Unfortunately, the grief she took from the cops she once believed were her friends made it almost impossible to stay on the job. About two years ago she had resigned from the CPD, pulled up stakes and relocated to Minneapolis. A friend in Chicago who knew Tony Carvelli had introduced her to him and he had helped her get started in the business. The two of them were good friends, more compatriots than competitors. Maddy’s bread and butter was investigating men, and some women, for dating services to check them out for prospective romantic relationships. It was a booming new business and she was making an excellent living at it. She was especially adept at checking out the men for other women. If they could resist her, the odds were excellent they were loyal and trustworthy.

  Around 8:00 that evening, Carvelli slipped unnoticed into a faux Irish pub named O’Reilly’s on Lake Street, a block west of Lyndale. For a Sunday evening, even on a pleasant early summer day, the place was fairly crowded. The crowd suited Tony well since he did not want to be noticed.

  He spotted the man he was looking for sitting toward the end of the bar away from the entrance. Tony found an empty two-person table with a slightly obstructed sightline of his target. He ordered a Guinness Blonde from the pretty young waitress and made a quick call on his cell.

  A few minutes later, Maddy walked in and as usual, the male patrons, as if suddenly sensing a subtle pheromone slowly making its way through the air, began to stir. She was wearing four-inch spike heeled half-boots, black designer jeans and a white silk blouse that was just transparent enough to detect the black lace bra she wore. The almost six foot tall one-time model spotted Tony and as several heads turned to follow her, she draped her purse over the back of the chair and took the seat at his table.

  “It’s interesting watching what you do to a crowd,” he said.

  “To tell you the truth, sometimes I like it but mostly I don’t. Anyway, where is he?”

  “Seated at the far end of the bar.”

  He described the man to her and as she was getting up to go snare him, she said, “What’s his name?”

  “I didn’t tell you?”

  “No.”

  “Conrad Hilton.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No, not at all. I swear that’s the guy’s name, Conrad Hilton. Listen,” Tony continued as he stood and dropped a few bills on the table, “you can handle this. If you have a problem, call me. Otherwise, I’ll meet you at the motel. I’ll wait in the lot until I see you pull in.”

  She made her way to the end of the bar, stood behind Conrad, looked at Tony who waited by the front door then slightly nodded his head to let her know she found him. Maddy slid onto the barstool next to him which caused Conrad to almost wrench his neck when his head jerked at the sight of her.

  “Excuse me,” she smiled and pleasantly said, “is your name Bill?”

  “Um, uh,” he stammered, “would you like it to be? I mean, um, I could change it if you want.”

  “Oh, you’re not Bill,” she said clearly disappointed. “My friend set me up with a blind date and the guy she described sounded just like you,” she continued looking around the bar as if trying to spot someone else. “I’m a little late so, he might’ve left already. Do you mind if I sit here and see if he shows up?”

  “No, be my guest,” Conrad replied silently saying the first prayer he had made in many years. “In fact, let me buy you a drink.”

  The two of them made some small talk for a half hour or so, Maddy mostly lying about who she was and what she did. She easily steered the conversation to allow him to talk about himself, brag about his years with law enforcement, especially the FBI. He “confidentially” let her in on a couple of cases he had peripherally been involved with trying his best to make it sound like he had been the key to busting the bad guys.

  Maddy played her part to the hilt, the over-awed female who was too impressed with his many significant accomplishments.

  Half-way through her second drink, Maddy quietly said as she seductively drew an index finger along his arm, “This is kind of, you know, forward and all, but what do you say we get out of here?”

  “I’m game. Where to? Your place or mine?” he said taking a shot at this once in a lifetime opportunity.

  “Look,” she continued, “I know this place, it’s sort of an, ah, adult motel. You know what I mean? Why don’t you follow me?”

  With that, she gathered her purse, stood and started toward the door. Conrad, lacking any willpower at all, followed behind her trying to understand how this could be happening.

  Fifteen minutes later the two cars pulled into the parking lot of the Minnehaha Motel. They parked their cars and while Tony watched from a safe spot with an amused look on his face, Conrad scampered into the office to rent a room. When he got inside, Maddy turned toward Tony’s Camaro and gave him a look that could kill, hoping he could see it in the dimly lit parking lot.

  Ten minutes later, Conrad opened the door to the room and stepped aside to let Maddy go in. As soon as they were inside and the door was closed, he tried to put his arms around her and actually grabbed her butt in the process.

  “Wait, wait, big fella,” she said as she gently pushed him back. “Look, this may seem a little kinky, but there’s something I really like to do.”

  “That reminds me,” he said almost gasping for air, “I have a condom,” which he removed from his wallet.

  “Great,” she said. “Put it on the night stand.” She reached in her large purse and removed two sets of handcuffs. Maddy held them up with raised eyebrows with a “let’s get kinky” look in her eyes and sensually said, “What I want is for you to strip down to your shorts and lie down on the bed.”

  In less than thirty seconds Conrad had obeyed and was even holding his hands out for her to slip the cuffs on them. She got on the bed, straddled him and clamped one handcuff on each wrist and secured both to the headboard. Maddy then removed the scarf she was wearing and began to place it in his mouth and tie it behind his head. He tried to protest this but she leaned down and with their noses an inch apart, she quietly said, “It’s okay you big raging stud. Just relax and everything will be fine. Trust me.”

  She finished tying the scarf behind his head, got off of the bed, went to the door, jerked it open and said, “Get your ass in here,” to Carvelli who was patiently waiting outside. “You know, he grabbed my ass!” she snarled as she let the door automatically
close.

  “Can’t say I blame him. It is a lovely ass,” Tony said as he walked past her into the room.

  “That’s not funny,” she replied slapping him on the shoulder.

  “Hey, Conrad, how ya’ doing?” Tony asked as he picked up the man’s clothes, walked to the bathroom, tossed them on the floor and closed the bathroom door.

  “Why did you do that?” Maddy asked.

  “Because old Conrad here is a master at electronic surveillance, aren’t you Conrad? And believe it or not, he could have a bug in his clothes to record this which isn’t going to happen.” Tony pulled a chair up next to the bed, sat down, reached over and pulled the gag out of Conrad’s mouth.

  “What the hell is this?” he yelled. “What the hell is going on? Who are you…” he sputtered as Tony replaced the gag.

  “Conrad,” he said quietly while Maddy continued to watch, “I just want to talk to you.”

  Conrad made some muffled sound that sounded like he was saying, “This is kidnapping.”

  “No, it isn’t, Conrad. You came here voluntarily and,” he continued as he looked at Maddy, “I’m guessing you didn’t put up too much of a fight when she cuffed you to the bed. Plus, you’re not going to get hurt. Everything will be okay. I just need some information. Now, I’ll remove this again and you stay calm, tell me what I want and you’ll be out of here in no time at all. Okay?”

  As Tony again removed the gag, Maddy said, “I’m outta here. See you later.”

  “Wait,” Conrad said as she started to open the door. “You mean we’re not gonna, you know…”

  “Jesus Christ,” Maddy muttered. “No, Conrad, we’re not gonna…” she mockingly said. “And keep the scarf. I won’t be needing it.”

  “You look familiar,” Conrad said looking at Tony, obviously deflated by Maddy’s departure. “I know you, don’t I?”