The elevator doors from the building’s underground parking garage opened and before Carvelli could exit, three rude people, in a hurry to get home, entered the car. At least five more were waiting to get on, forcing Carvelli to literally elbow his way past them. Quitting time at a government building was not the best time to arrive unless you wanted to be trampled. As he hurried across the building’s atrium Tony heard and felt his phone go off in his inside coat pocket.
“Carvelli,” he said into the device as he continued toward the elevators that would take him up the court side of the building. He was in a hurry to get up to the courtroom to catch some of the proceedings before they finished for the day.
“Mr. Carvelli?” he heard a female voice ask. “You probably don’t remember me but my name is Gloria Metcalf. I work at CAR Securities. You talked to me a couple weeks ago about Rob’s death.”
“Actually, I do remember you, Gloria. Sandy-blonde hair, about five foot six, blue eyes, late twenties,” Tony said.
“Wow, that’s pretty good.”
“What can I do for you?” Tony asked. His curiosity grabbed ahold of him and Carvelli was standing still as the crowd of office workers hustled past on their way out.
“Well, um, I, ah, I think I have some information for you. I didn’t tell you before but I think I need to. Can we meet somewhere?”
“Sure, Gloria. When and where? You tell me and I’ll be there,” Tony assured her.
Metcalf gave him the location of a Caribou Coffee shop in a suburb north of Minneapolis. They agreed to meet that evening.
“This might be something,” Carvelli quietly whispered to himself as he replaced the phone in his pocket. Less than two minutes later he stepped off an elevator on the fifteenth floor. He arrived at Judge Graham’s courtroom just in time to greet the crowd of media types rushing through the door on their way out.
Carvelli entered the courtroom and saw that it was almost empty. The few remaining members of the audience were quietly moving to the exit. The judge, jury and prosecutors were all gone leaving Marc and Maddy still seated at the defense table. Carvelli looked at the TV camera and saw the red light was off indicating the camera was no longer turned on.
“Hi, where have you been?” Maddy asked Carvelli as he came through the gate. Desperately needing and happy to see a friendly face, Maddy stood and they quickly embraced.
“You okay?” Tony asked.
“Yeah, I’m all right,” she said with a weak smile. “It was a tough day.”
“I may have something,” Tony said. He sat on the edge of the table and looked down at Marc. “What’s wrong with you? Is the trial over?”
“I did something stupid,” Marc said. “I opened the door to allow Owen Jefferson to give the jury his opinion that Maddy was guilty.”
“So what? He wouldn’t be on the stand if he didn’t believe that,” Tony said.
“What’s done is done,” Maddy said,
“You’re right,” Marc agreed. “We’ll move on.”
Marc said, “The worst is probably over. The photos of you in the bedroom is the worst visual the jury will see. Maybe the autopsy photos, but you’re not in those. What do you have?”
Tony quickly told them about the phone call he had received downstairs.
“I’m pretty sure she’s on our witness list,” Marc said. He opened his laptop, found the witness list on it and quickly found her name listed on it.
“Yeah, Gloria Metcalf, CAR Securities. We didn’t serve her yet,” he continued referring to a subpoena, “but we still can. She didn’t say what she wanted?”
“No….” Tony started to say.
“She worked with Rob,” Maddy said. “I remember meeting her at the party. Sort of pretty but she seemed a little, I don’t know, mousy, I guess. Quiet. I remember Rob said she was really smart and had great phone sales talent. Kind of off for someone who seemed kind of quiet and soft spoken. What do you think she has?”
“I’m guessing something about CAR Securities,” Tony said. “I’ll find out.”
At precisely 7:30, the exact time they had agreed to meet, Carvelli walked into the coffee shop. Seated at a small table for two, as far from the door as she could get, he saw Gloria Metcalf waiting for him. She raised a hand and lightly waved at him and Tony nodded his head in recognition. He made a drinking gesture with his hand and she shook her head and held up her cup to indicate she did not need anything.
Carvelli looked over the menu located behind the counter on the wall. He did not recognize a single thing on it. Finally, he gave up, looked at the smiling young girl patiently waiting and shrugged his shoulders.
He held up both hands, palms up, and said, “Can I just get a cup of black coffee? Do you serve that?”
“Sure,” the girl laughed.
Less than a minute later he joined Gloria at the table.
After greetings and handshakes, Tony quietly said, “You seem a little nervous. Are you okay?”
Gloria heavily inhaled then said, “Yeah, I’m okay. It’s just, I don’t know, I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing. I mean, I guess I know I am but I just, I don’t know.”
Tony reached across the small wood-topped table, gently squeezed her hand and said, “It’s okay. We’ll take it slow. I won’t bite, I promise.”
Gloria weakly smiled, inhaled heavily again and said, “Okay.” She exhaled and began.
“Something’s going on at work, at CAR. Something’s not right. I didn’t tell you this and I should have. I’ll be honest,” she continued. “I had a huge crush on Rob. He was so hot and such a great guy and well, anyway I was a little jealous of Madeline Rivers, his girlfriend.”
“It’s okay,” Tony said. “You’re human. It happens.”
“And I believed she did it. I believed something happened and she killed him. And the TV and newspapers made it sound like she did it. Now, I’m not so sure.”
“Why? What happened?” Tony asked.
Gloria turned her head to stare out the window for several seconds before answering. She turned back to Tony and said, “Rob told me, a little bit at least, about problems with the mortgage-backed securities that CAR held for their customers. He told me they were not what they were supposed to be. That they were not backed by the risk level they were legally required to be. He said he went to Walter with them, that’s Walter Pascal, our boss. He said Walter told him he would look into it. That was a few days before the party on the Fourth of July. He also told me Pat McGarry knew about this, too. He told me Pat told him he was going to talk to Walter about them, too.”
“Did Pat talk to Walter about them?”
“I don’t know. Rob didn’t know, either. Rob wasn’t so sure Pat’s death was an accident. I’m not so sure now, either.”
“Why?” Tony asked.
Gloria picked up a small leather folio she had placed on the floor next to the wall. She pulled out a small stack of papers from it and handed them to Carvelli.
“These are computer printouts of a sample of the mortgage-backed securities held by CAR. About fifty-million-dollars-worth. They show that there are a lot of B grade mortgages in them and there shouldn’t be. They are supposed to be triple and double A only. Do you know what I mean?”
“A little bit,” Tony said. “I can get these to people who do.”
Tony casually looked over the sparse crowd in the coffee shop. Satisfied that no one was paying any attention to them, he turned back to Metcalf and continued.
“Gloria, if what you’re saying is true, then you need to get out of there, out of CAR Securities. If they find out what you’ve done, your life could be in danger.”
“I know,” she said. “And I still don’t know if I’m doing the right thing. As far as I know, Madeline Rivers is probably guilty…”
“She’s not,” Tony leaned forward looked her directly in the eyes and said, “I’ve known her for years and she could not do this. And you probably don’t know this, but she was drugged at that party. We th
ink someone paid a waiter to drug her with roofies and LSD…”
“Oh, my God!”
“…and the waiter was found murdered right after that.”
“Oh, my God!” she repeated.
“You’re right, something’s going on at CAR Securities and with what you gave me, we might be able to get to the bottom of it and find out what.”
“Oh, my God,” she said again more quietly looking around with a dazed expression. She looked at Carvelli and said, “I can’t go back to work, can I?”
“No, you shouldn’t,” Tony agreed.
“What am I going to do?” she asked, tears forming in her eyes.
Carvelli again reached across the table and took both of her hands in his.
“Relax,” he smiled reassuringly. “You’re not going back to CAR Securities. I know someone willing to help and when this is over, find you a better job. Trust me, okay?”
“I’m not sure I have any choice.”
“It will be all right,” Tony said.
He reached into his coat, removed his phone and found the number he wanted. He dialed it and it was quickly answered.
“Hi, hon,” Tony said. “I have a huge favor to ask for Maddy. I need to bring someone out to see you, tonight.”
He listened for a moment then said, “Good. We’ll see you in a little while. Thanks, Vivian.”
THIRTY-SIX
It was after one o’clock on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving when Graham adjourned for the lunch break. As the jury was being led out, the judge motioned to the lawyers to come up to the bench.
“Are you on schedule?” Graham asked Gondeck.
“Yes, your Honor,” Gondeck replied. “I have the medical examiner as my last witness this afternoon. I am anticipating one or two rebuttal witnesses to call during the defense case but that’s it.”
“Mr. Kadella?” Graham looked at Marc.
“I’m going to want to make my opening statement when he’s done, no matter how late it is.”
“My witness will take a while, your Honor. The jury is going to want to get home for the holiday,” Gondeck said.
“Your Honor, he wants the autopsy photos to be the last thing they see before the weekend. In fairness to my client…”
“I agree, Mr. Kadella. In fairness to the defendant, he gets to make his opening today. Unless you want to come in tomorrow?” Graham said looking at Gondeck.
“I’m willing,” Gondeck said knowing the jury would be angry at the defendant for ruining their long weekend.
“Your Honor! They’ll want to take it out on my client…”
“Relax, Marc,” Graham said. “We’re not coming back until Monday. But,” he continued looking at Gondeck, “he gets to make his opening today so, move it along. If the jury thinks you’re dragging it out, well…” he shrugged.
Marc noticed Tony Carvelli come into the courtroom. Tony walked up to the gate and waited for Marc.
“Your Honor,” Marc said. “One moment, please.”
He quickly walked to where Carvelli was waiting and the two of them quietly conferred. Marc pointed at a chair next to Maddy, who was anxiously watching them, and Carvelli took a seat next to her as Marc went back to the bench.
“Your Honor, I need to revisit another matter. We have a witness who can verify that the owners of CAR Securities had a motive to murder Robert Judd…”
“No, no, no,” Gondeck emphatically shook his head while saying, “we’ve been around this block already judge.”
“I don’t need his permission, your Honor. She’s on my witness list. I also have an independent expert to call to back up what she will say,” Marc said. “I want to subpoena their records and the owners, or, at least, one of the principals.”
“I strongly object, your Honor,” Gondeck said.
“Tell you what,” Graham said looking at Marc. “What’s her name?”
“Gloria Metcalf,” Marc replied.
“Okay. Have Ms. Metcalf in here at ten. on Friday morning and your expert too. Let’s hear what they have to say without the jury present. Then I’ll decide about a subpoena for their records.”
“Nice try,” Marc said to Gondeck as they walked back to their tables.
“Will you leave the autopsy pictures up while you give your opening?”
“Sure and I’ll have Maddy change into a bikini while your M.E. is testifying and when you do your close,” Marc replied.
“Might be worth it,” Gondeck replied.
“You two are disgusting,” Jennifer Moore said barely containing a laugh.
“I was thinking we could dress you up in a French maid outfit,” Marc said to Jennifer.
“You know I have a permit to carry a gun, right?” Jennifer said with a serious, grim look.
“She’s good with it, too,” Gondeck said.
Maddy heard this last comment and asked Marc, “Good with what?”
“A gun,” Marc replied.
“What did you say to her?” Maddy severely asked. “You have my permission to slap him,” Maddy told Jennifer.
“He needs it,”
“I’m leaving,” Maddy said.
Over lunch the three of them, Marc, Maddy and Carvelli discussed Gloria Metcalf’s testimony. Carvelli had brought the news that a certified financial planner from an investment advisor firm had reviewed the documents Metcalf had obtained from CAR Securities. What they came up with verified what Metcalf and by extension, Rob Judd, had found. The mortgage-backed securities were not the quality they should have been.
“There is a problem here,” Marc said. “The documents Metcalf took with her are stolen, proprietary reports. We can probably get her to tell what she knows on a witness stand but Graham might not let the documents themselves into evidence. And what she claims Rob told her is hearsay although there is an exception to the hearsay rule. Graham should allow that.”
“What about this afternoon?” Maddy asked. “I’m a little worried about it. I don’t want to see Rob’s autopsy pictures.”
“Try not to look at them,” Marc said. “Graham’s only letting them show two of them to let the jury see the stab wounds. Most of his testimony will be done using a drawing of the outline of a man’s body. Knowing Steve, he’ll get those photos up on the TV right away and leave them there as long as he can.”
“And then their case is done?” Carvelli asked.
“Yeah, of course,” Marc continued looking at Maddy, “he’ll use the picture show again during his closing argument.”
“Maybe I should wear a bikini,” Maddy said with a grim smile.
“That’s not a bad idea,” Marc seriously said.
“I’m joking, Marc. I don’t think the judge would allow it.”
“No, remember what we did during the Fornich trial?”
“Yes, I do!” Maddy said lighting up. “You think…”
“Let’s think about it,” Marc said.
“Okay, I’m game,” Maddy agreed.
“You think this is a good idea?” Carvelli asked.
“I don’t know. Let me think about it. We’ll see,” Marc said.
“How’s Metcalf doing?” Marc asked Carvelli.
“She’s fine. Bored but okay,” Carvelli said. Vivian Donahue was funding the trial and picking up the expense of hiding Gloria Metcalf in a Bloomington hotel with round the clock security. The security was being provided by several retired-cop friends of Tony.
“Her family is in Philadelphia, so she wasn’t going home for Thanksgiving anyway. I’ll bring her to Vivian’s tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I know,” Marc said. “I’ll take her to a room at the mansion and prepare her for Friday. We should get back,” he continued looking at his watch.
The prosecution wrapped up their case with almost four hours of testimony from the medical examiner, Clyde Marston. Marston was a long-time veteran of the M.E.’s office and virtually a professional witness. He barely needed any preparation before testifying. Just wind him up and let him go. He could exp
lain his procedures and get to the cause of death in a way a ten-year-old would understand him. And he would not come across as condescending or patronizing in the least. Plus, it helped that he looked like everyone’s idea of a favorite uncle.
What took so much time was Gondeck’s inability to control his witness. There are times when a professional witness can be a problem and now was one of them. Because of the TV camera, Marston took it upon himself to savor the limelight. Despite Gondeck’s best efforts, and he truly tried to move his witness along, Marston decided he needed to graphically show and explain to the jury each and every stab wound. All fourteen of them.
During this phase of his testimony, after the preliminary of his qualification and years on the job, he put up a photo of Rob Judd lying on an exam table. Rob was shown naked from the waist up. Fortunately, this photo was taken after being prepared for the autopsy but before it was performed. Each of the wounds in his torso was cleaned and clearly visible but sterile. While it was a real photo of a real homicide victim, every juror had seen much worse things, many times, on TV and in the movies.
On an easel set up next to the TV was a life-size outline of a man. On that, Marston had displayed every stab wound and numbered them in the order he believed they were inflicted.
Using a pointer he went through each one pointing first at the outline on the easel, then the corresponding wound on Rob’s body. And for each one he spent anywhere from five to ten minutes explaining the damage the wound had done to Rob’s internal organs.
Marc was tempted to object two or three times. Instead, he looked over the jurors and it was not long before he saw obvious signs of boredom. One older man actually nodded off, so Marc kept quiet and let Marston go.
“Your honor,” Marston said after the fifth or sixth wound he described, “it would be useful if I could put up photos of the actual organs I’m talking about.”
Marc had stood up to object but the judge beat him to it.
[Marc Kadella 06.0] Delayed Justice Page 24
