“That’s it? That’s what you’re worried about?” Marc asked.
“We just think you’re a lot happier now than when you were married to her,” Eric said.
“We love Mom, you know. She’s Mom and all but…” Jessie said.
“Relax,” Marc told her. “I thought it was something serious like she wanted more money.” He looked at Jessica and said, “Now that you’re eighteen and done with high school, the child support stops.”
“I know,” Jessie said. “She made it a point to tell me.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Marc said.
“Don’t say mean things about Mom,” Jessie admonished him.
“You’re right, I’m sorry.”
The waitress brought their meals and while Eric started in like he had not eaten in a week, Marc said to his daughter, “So that’s why she invited me over this weekend.”
“Yep,” Jessie said. “Oh my God, I almost forgot, how’s Maddy? What happened?”
“She’s fine and I can’t tell you about it except she’s innocent. Just leave it at that,” Marc said wanting to avoid that discussion.
The three of them spent the rest of lunch catching up. Marc had not spoken to them since sometime last week. Eric had yet another new girlfriend and Jessie was on a girls’ softball team. Marc told her to send him her schedule so he could come to her games. All in all, one of the more pleasant couple of hours he had spent on a workday for quite a while.
Marc was holding Margaret’s hand as the two of them climbed the steps to the mansion’s front door. When they reached the landing and before he could ring the doorbell, the door opened and Vivian stepped out to greet them.
“How is she?” Marc asked while Vivian and Margaret gave each other a quick hug.
“All right,” Vivian replied. “She seems less distraught than she did last night. I gave her a sleeping pill and I think she slept well.”
“Are you talking about me?” they heard Maddy say as she came through the open front door.
“Ooops,” Marc said and smiled when he saw her. She did look and seem much better than the day before. Her eyes were clear and her entire bearing was much better.
“Hi,” Maddy said as Margaret embraced her.
Marc stepped up to her and examined her eyes. The dilation and hazy, confused look were gone.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
“Yeah, physically at least.”
“Let’s go inside,” Vivian said. “Anthony is on his way and when he gets here we’ll have some dinner.”
Tony Carvelli arrived and Vivian had dinner served on the patio by the pool. The five of them made awkward small talk while eating. The elephant at the table, Rob Judd’s murder, was completely avoided. No one was quite sure how, or even if, the subject should be brought up.
Maddy was seated to Marc’s left between Marc and Tony. Almost a half-hour went by during which she was conspicuously silent. Maddy poked at her food while pretending to listen to the mundane chatter at the table.
Finally, Marc finished his meal, placed his utensils on the plate and pushed it toward the center of the glass topped table. He reached over and placed his hand on Maddy’s forearm. She looked at him and weakly smiled.
“Have you had anything to eat today?” Marc asked.
“Yes,” Maddy said.
“Not much,” Vivian interjected.
“You have got to eat. I know you’re in an emotional hell right now but it’s likely going to get worse. You have to eat and sleep and keep your strength up.”
“Why do you think it’s going to get worse?” she asked.
Marc looked around the table and saw everyone had gone silent and were watching him. Marc took Maddy’s hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Owen Jefferson called me today. He wants you in for questioning. I told him I’d think about it and let him know,” Marc said.
“So, let’s do it,” Maddy said.
“And tell him what? That you have no memory of anything? He already knows that. I’m not inclined to cooperate with them,” Marc said.
“Are you sure that’s the best way to play this?” Margaret asked.
Marc released Maddy’s hand, turned to Margaret and said, “People have this belief, or really it’s a hope, that if they tell the cops their side of things then the cops will see it their way. They think that somehow the cops will understand how things happened, that it wasn’t really their fault, the cops will apologize for the inconvenience and let the whole thing slide.”
He turned back to Maddy and continued. “When the police are investigating a crime, they are not your friends. I like Owen Jefferson as a person, too. He’s a good man. But he’s a professional and right now, he is not your friend. You, as an ex-cop, should know that. How am I doing, Tony?” Marc asked Carvelli while still looking at Maddy.
“Spot on,” Carvelli replied.
“I don’t see any way you giving them a statement will help you. And I don’t know why, but I don’t think they’re not going to find any fingerprints or DNA in Rob’s bedroom except yours and his. We’ll see, but I think somebody drugged you to set you up to take the blame for his murder. If that’s true, then whoever did it is good enough not to leave anything behind.”
“You think I’ll get arrested?” Maddy quietly asked.
“Yeah, honey, I do. We’ll see but I’m pretty sure. Now try to eat.”
Vivian woke up with a start and her body involuntarily shook from it. Wide awake, she tossed her head from side to side trying to grasp what it was that awakened her. She looked at the clock on her bedside table which read 2:13 and saw the darkness outside through the window. Suddenly, she heard it again. A sharp, short scream coming from a bedroom down the hall. Only this time it wasn’t her subconscious that heard it.
In a flash, she flung back the covers and was up and headed for the door. Almost sprinting, she burst into Maddy’s bedroom, turned on the light, and found her huddled in a corner. Maddy’s knees were pulled up to her chin, her nightgown covering them and her arms squeezing her legs together.
Vivian went right to her and when Vivian got to her, she saw that Maddy’s eyes were wide open, unblinking and with a terrified look. Vivian knelt down in front of her and Maddy tried to shrink back farther into the corner.
Vivian reached toward the terrified woman with both hands but was afraid to touch her, “Madeline,” she whispered.
“No, no! The blood! What’s happening? Make it stop…” Maddy cried out.
Vivian grabbed her shoulders gave her a hard shake and yelled, “Madeline! It’s me Vivian!”
It worked. The sudden forceful shaking and the yelling of her name apparently snapped Maddy back from wherever she had been.
Vivian continued to hold her by the shoulders as Maddy blinked several times and silently looked around the room. At first, Maddy was breathing hard and it took almost a minute while the two women looked at each other before her breath came back to normal.
“What, what happened? Why am I on the floor? What…”
“You had a bad dream,” Vivian quietly said.
Maddy looked directly at her for several seconds then whispered, “No, no. It wasn’t a dream. It was too real. I saw Rob and the blood and… I’m not sure.”
“What can you remember?” Vivian asked letting go of her shoulders and taking her hands.
“It was…bizarre,” Maddy quietly said, trying to recall. “It was… I don’t know how to explain it… I saw the bedroom and a dark shape, like a man but I couldn’t see his face and I don’t know,” she said as the tears trickled down her face.
Vivian held her for a couple minutes then said, “Are you okay to go back to bed?”
“Yeah, I think so. Help me up, please.”
TWENTY
Marc Kadella was in his SUV eastbound on I-394 toward downtown Minneapolis. He was on his way back from the Corwin Mansion and had Maddy Rivers on his mind. Maddy had two more traumatic experiences over the past three days.
Vivian had taken her in for testing and a visit with a psychiatrist. They were waiting for lab results from her blood and urine but so far, no news. The shrink believed she was having some kind of flashback attack and likely, at least, somewhat drug induced.
Marc had called his friend, Dr. Lockhart every day impatiently looking for the results of the samples Maddy gave the day Rob was murdered. Lockhart assured him he would call as soon as he knew.
When Marc got into downtown, he quickly drove through the light mid-morning traffic to the government center. Being a Friday during the summer, he wasn’t surprised to find space available in the building’s underground parking. County employees were not shy about starting their weekend early.
He was running a little late for a pretrial conference for a minor in possession, first-time offense drug case. His client was the son of a business client of Chris Grafton, a lawyer in his office. The spoiled, little snot — Marc couldn’t stand the kid— was selling prescription opioids in high school. Because it was a first offense, a plea deal had been made. He received no jail time, probation until age twenty and a stern warning not to do it again. Every time Marc heard a politician blathering about how harsh the justice system was on drug offenders, he got a hearty laugh at their ignorance. The simple truth was, except for serious crimes such as homicide and rape, these miscreants had to work damn hard to get sent to prison.
When his case was resolved, instead of leaving the building to go to his office, Mark took an elevator up to seventeen. He took a look through the window in the door of 1745, saw that the courtroom was empty and went in. He went through the courtroom and into the back hall leading to the judge’s chambers.
“Hey,” he softly said to Margaret’s clerk, Lois, not wanting to startle her.
She looked up from her desk at Marc, frowned and said, “I see I have to call security again. They’ll let anybody wander around back here.”
“Is she in?” Marc asked ignoring the comment while looking at Margaret’s closed door.
“Just a second,” Lois said. She picked up her phone, dialed Margaret’s extension, put her phone on speaker, and when she answered said. “There’s a lawyer out here to see you.”
“What does he want?” Margaret asked not knowing who it was.
“I think it’s a personal matter.”
“Is he tall, dark and handsome?”
“Not really,” Lois answered her. “He’s not bad and I’ve heard he has a pretty cute butt.”
“Really? Well, send him right back,” Margaret laughed.
“You two should take this act on the road,” Marc dryly said.
“Hi,” she said as Marc came through the door. Margaret was out of her desk and slipping her feet into her shoes. She grabbed her purse and as she walked toward him said, “You’re just in time to take me to lunch.”
“How about Peterson’s,” Marc said referring to a coffee shop with good food in the building across the street.
“Sounds good,” she replied.
The waitress took their order, a salad for Margaret and cheeseburger and fries for Marc, then left them alone in the booth.
“Did you talk to Maddy or Vivian today?” Margaret asked.
“I went out there, to the mansion,” Marc replied. “She’s better,” he added referring to Maddy. “No waking up in the middle of the night screaming last night at least. Vivian had her in for a complete medical checkup. They haven’t found anything but they’re still waiting for lab results.
“She also had her see a shrink. He’s pretty sure it’s some kind of PTSD reaction. Of course, he wants to see her every week for the next ten years or so.”
“Don’t be so cynical,” Margaret said.
“I could’ve told them it was some kind of PTSD reaction,” Marc replied.
“Have you heard back from your guy, doctor what’s-his-name?”
“Lockhart,” Marc said. “No, he said it would take a few days to run a thorough check.”
“It’s been a few days. Have you called him?”
“Yes, every day.”
At that exact moment, his phone went off. He checked the caller ID and saw it was from the office.
“Your doctor friend called,” he heard Carolyn say. “He has Maddy’s lab results.”
“And what are they?” Marc anxiously asked.
“He wouldn’t tell me. He said he was only authorized by Maddy to tell you.”
“Give me his number, I’ll call him,” Marc said.
Carolyn told him the number which Marc wrote down on a napkin. He thanked Carolyn, ended the call and started to dial.
“What?” Margaret asked.
Marc told her what it was about while listening to the phone ringing. A receptionist answered and put him on hold. While he waited the waitress came back with their orders and while Marc was munching on french fries, Dr. Lockhart came on the line.
“Nathan, it’s Marc Kadella, what did you find?”
“You were right, they found a significant dose of flunitrazepam also known as Rohypnol…”
“Also known as roofies,” Marc added.
“Right,” Lockhart agreed.
“Enough to make her blackout?”
“Easily. Probably twice the amount needed.”
“Now, I have to figure out who, how and why it was done to her,” Marc said.
“What?!” Margaret anxiously asked. “Someone slipped her roofies?”
“It gets worse, Marc,” Lockhart said.
Marc looked at Margaret, nodded his head at her question and held up an index finger to her,
“What?” Marc asked.
“She was also a given a pretty good dose of lysergic acid diethylamide,” Lockhart told him.
“What the hell is lysergic acid diethylamide?” Marc asked the doctor.
“LSD,” Margaret said from across the table.
“LSD,” Lockhart replied through the phone.
“Sonofabitch,” Marc quietly muttered. “That may explain some things. Anything else?”
“Isn’t that enough?” Lockhart asked. “No,” he continued, “so far at least. They’re still double checking for other things but so far, that’s it.”
“Okay, thanks, Nathan, I think I owe you one,” Marc said.
“Is that bad news or good news?” Lockhart asked.
“Both,” Marc replied then ended the call.
They ate their lunch mostly in silence. When they finished Marc called Vivian and told her he was stopping by again.
On their way back to the government center, they walked against a red light on Fourth Avenue. They went inside and got on the escalators to rise up to the second floor.
“You have a defense against murder,” Margaret told him as they stood looking at each.
“If it comes to that,” Marc said. “I don’t believe she did it. Someone spiked her drinks at that party to set her up. I just need to find out who…”
“And why,” Margaret added as they stepped off the escalator.
They said goodbye and Margaret walked toward the elevators to take her up to her courtroom. Marc headed for the building’s Northeast corner and the elevator to take him down to his car.
“What can you remember?” Marc asked Maddy. The three of them, including Vivian, were in the library and Marc had given her the news. It took almost five minutes for Maddy to calm down and stop talking about a revenge homicide if she found out who did this. She finally got enough control to take a seat on the couch with Vivian opposite the one Marc was on.
“Before the fireworks, what can you remember?” he asked again.
“Pretty much everything,” she said. “It had to be one of the bartenders or the waiter. I had two small glasses of beer,” she continued, “both of them Rob got for me. Then I had another with dinner.”
“Do you think Rob…” Vivian started to ask.
“No,” Maddy answered emphatically. “Why would he?”
“That’s the question,” Marc agreed.
�
�Besides, I felt fine until later, several hours later. It wasn’t until the fireworks started that I began to feel sick.”
“What time was that?” Vivian asked.
“Ten o’clock,” Maddy said. “I had three small glasses of wine after we ate.”
“Did you get them from the bar or did Rob?” Marc asked.
“No, no,” Maddy said after thinking about it for a moment. “The waiter. It was the same waiter. A young guy, early twenties, curly brown hair, about five foot seven or eight. Muscular, like he worked out a lot.”
“Are you sure?” Marc asked. “It was the same guy that brought you the wine each time?”
“Yes, positive,” Maddy replied. “I remember him because he had this funny little smile on his face like he was expecting me to swoon over him. Believe me, I know the look.”
“Okay, good, that’s a start. We’ll get Tony on it,” Marc said.
“I’ll go find his little ass…” an angry Madeline started to say.
“No, you won’t and that’s final,” Marc declared. “And you know you can’t do that. Let Carvelli do it.”
After a few moments Maddy took a deep breath, sighed and said, “Yeah, you’re right. But I’ll tell you right now, when this is over, me and that little shit are gonna have a serious chat.”
Vivian, through her laughter, said, “I’ll want to see that.”
Marcie Sterling was a faster reader than her partner, Owen Jefferson. That and Owen was more thorough and meticulous. Marcie had finished the preliminary autopsy report of Rob Judd two minutes ago. Owen was still checking and rechecking points he had already read while Marcie patiently waited for him.
“Fourteen stab wounds,” Owen finally said when he finished and looked at Marcie. “None of which, by itself, was fatal.”
“Except for the one in his liver. That would have eventually killed him,” Marcie said.
“Yeah, right. I meant none in the heart or lungs to kill him quickly,” Owen added.
The two of them were at their desks in the homicide squad room facing each other. The preliminary autopsy had been emailed to them this morning.
“Almost like someone who was stabbing wildly.”
[Marc Kadella 06.0] Delayed Justice Page 14
