“What happened with Brooke?”
“I don’t know,” Carvelli said. “The court had not called them when Marc called me. I’m heading out to Vivian’s now.”
“I’ll meet you there,” Maddy said.
“Oh, sorry, I almost forgot. One more bit of bad news. Brooke’s drug tests came back negative. They didn’t find anything.”
“Oh, boy,” Maddy quietly said. “That’s not good. Now what?”
“No, it’s not good,” Carvelli agreed. “I don’t know what now. We’ll see. I’ll meet you at Vivian’s.”
FORTY-SEVEN
The murder of a prominent attorney—especially by his secretary—drew a lot of media attention. The local TV talking heads were already speculating that there must be a sex angle in this somewhere.
Normally the felony arraignment courtroom gallery had a few lawyers looking for clients and anxious relatives ready to make bail. This morning, there were also a dozen media members in attendance. There were no cameras, microphones or recording equipment which actually made it better. What all any of them really wanted was a salacious tidbit to embellish into a sex scandal. They were going to leave disappointed. More than a few of them were undeterred. Since there was no recording allowed they could let loose their inner fiction writer and simply make up whatever they wanted.
Judge Martin Eason, a judge Marc knew fairly well, was handling arraignments. His clerk had warned him about the crowd in his courtroom and why the media was in attendance. Wanting to get rid of them as quickly as possible, the judge told her to call Brooke’s case first.
Brooke was led in and stood to Marc’s left directly in front of the judge. Judge Eason looked at Marc’s head and the walking boot on his still-healing leg. Knowing about the hit and run Eason quietly asked, “How are you doing, Marc?”
“Fine, your Honor. Thanks for asking,” Marc replied.
Marc waived reading of the charges, which at this point, was second-degree murder. The prosecutor, a young lawyer who Marc had just met and could not remember his name, informed the court that certain discovery formalities had been done. He also told Eason that the case was going to be presented to a grand jury for a first-degree indictment.
“That isn’t going to happen, your Honor,” Marc interjected. He said this as a preemptive strike to get bail. “They have nothing to present to make a case that this was premeditated. In fact, they have no evidence that my client did this at all. I am going to bring a motion for an evidentiary hearing at the omnibus hearing. I firmly believe this case will never make it to trial.”
“Apparently, Mr. Kadella is starting his bail argument,” the wily-old judge said. “What about that, Mr. Clark? Are you going to prove premeditation?”
“Well, um, your Honor,” the prosecutor said, “I was told to argue against bail. She clearly stabbed the victim with malice aforethought and…”
“I don’t think I’ve heard that phrase since law school,” Eason said. “I’ve read the complaint and am setting bail at one-million dollars. You tell Steve Gondeck… wait, never mind, I see him hiding out in back. Mr. Gondeck, please join us.”
All eyes in the courtroom turned toward the back as the head of the prosecution’s felony division came forward.
“As I was about to tell your young associate here, I’m setting bail at…”
“Your honor, this is very serious…” Gondeck started to say.
“Be quiet and don’t interrupt,” Eason sternly said.
An embarrassed Gondeck clamped his lips together while Marc suppressed a smile.
“I’m setting bail at one-million dollars, cash or bond. The defendant will surrender her passport.”
“Your Honor, if I may?” Gondeck said. “An ankle bracelet to monitor her movements?”
“Denied,” Eason said. “If you get a first-degree indictment, we’ll reconsider bail then. Anything else?”
“No, your Honor,” both Marc and the young prosecutor said.
Eason covered his microphone, leaned forward and said, “Steve,” and indicated Gondeck should get right up to the bench. Marc did the same.
“What were you thinking about sending this kid to argue bail in a homicide case?”
“He has to learn sometime,” Gondeck replied.
“Don’t do it again. You embarrassed him,” Eason said with a little smile.
Before leaving and while waiting for the media to trample out and chase down Gondeck, Marc took a moment with Brooke.
“I don’t have a million dollars,” she said almost pleading.
“Ssssh, let me see what I can do. I know someone. Go on back and I’ll be back before noon to see you. Trust me, okay?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Good point. No, not really. Go on, I’ll be back later this morning,” Marc said. He squeezed her hand and she slightly smiled. Marc watched the guards take her away while the next case was called.
As he turned to leave Marc saw a female reporter with Channel 8 waiting for him at the exit doors. As he walked down the room’s center aisle toward her, knowing what she wanted he thought, this might be a good idea.
“Hi, Marc,” she said when he got to her.
“Let’s go in the hall, Terry,” Marc said.
When they were outside the courtroom, Marc said, “Tell Gabriella to call me. I’ll find time to come on the show.”
“Really? How did you know…?”
“I know you’re one of the reporters who works with her. Tell her to give me a call. We’ll set it up.”
“Thanks, Marc. That was easy,” the reporter said.
On the elevator ride down to the government center’s second floor, Marc checked his phone for messages. There was a text from Maddy telling him that she and Carvelli were at Vivian’s and he should join them. At the end was a one-word question: Bail? Believing this was probably an inquiry from Vivian, he hurried to his car to see her.
One of the household staff opened the door for Marc and offered to escort him to the library. Being a semi-regular guest, he knew where it was and let the young woman go.
“How did it go?” Maddy asked when Marc entered the room.
Inside he found Vivian, Maddy, Carvelli, and Conrad waiting for him.
“Okay, Eason set bail at a million dollars. I had the pleasure of seeing Steve Gondeck get his butt bitten by a judge. That’s always fun when it’s someone else.”
“Will they need some form of certified funds?” Vivian asked.
“It can be wired in and thank you, Vivian,” Marc answered.
“From what Anthony told me, we, meaning he, got this young woman into this. We’re going to help her get out of it,” Vivian said.
Marc pulled a sheet of paper from his leather-satchel briefcase and gave it to her.
“The wiring instructions are on this,” he said. He handed her another sheet of paper and continued as he pointed at a number on the second sheet.
“This is the court case number. Your bank will need to put that and the case name, the State of Minnesota versus Brooke Hartley, on it.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Vivian said then went to a desk across the room.
“Did you tell her about the negative drug test?” Carvelli asked.
“Yeah, she has no idea. She still claims a complete blackout during the time of death,” Marc said.
“Her fingerprints are on the murder weapon?” Maddy asked.
“Yeah, but I think that actually helps us. They found no other prints on the handle and an almost perfect set of fingerprints. What are the odds?”
“Zero,” Carvelli said. “Unless they get evidence that Knutson’s office and the letter opener were cleaned the night before.”
Marc thought about this for a moment, then said, “Thanks for killing that idea. I’ll talk to Brooke about it.”
“Thank you very much and please hurry,” they heard Vivian say.
“Done,” she said to the others.
“Tell him, Conrad,” Carvelli said.
“The bugs are gone,” Conrad said.
“Yeah, I know. Maddy told me in her text. Any ideas what we do now?” Marc asked.
The room went silent for a moment then Marc asked Maddy, “Did they follow you this morning?”
“Yeah, they did. Right to the door. I waited until I got the call from Tony’s guys that the tail had left before I did. I called Rob a little while ago. No one has called or come looking for me,” Maddy said.
“You think they bought it?” Marc asked Carvelli.
“We’ll see,” Carvelli said. “My guys have her covered.”
“Good,” Marc said. He then asked again, “So, now, what do we do? How do we corroborate what Del Peterson told us?”
“His videotaped confession isn’t enough to take to a grand jury?” Vivian asked.
“Paxton doesn’t even have permission to work on this, let alone take it to a grand jury. She says her boss is adamant about not pursuing Cal Simpson. With only Peterson’s video…” Marc stopped and sat silently for a moment thinking about something, staring at nothing.
“Which begs the question: Why? Why doesn’t her boss want her pursuing Simpson?” Marc quietly said as if talking to himself.
“Paxton says it’s because it is not in their jurisdiction and she has plenty of other cases to work,” Maddy said.
Marc looked at Maddy, nodded his head and said, “Yeah, maybe that’s all there is to it. Something’s been bugging me, though. Remember when Tony first approached Knutson at the Minneapolis Club? Brody ran right to Cal. Then we picked up from the bugs Cal and Aidan talking. Aidan was going to check with people he knew, probably crooks and gangsters. Cal said he was going to call D.C. —that’s Washington—and check with someone. Remember? They thought Tony was Mafia. They were trying to find out if the Mafia was on to them. Who in the government might know?”
“Justice and the FBI,” Maddy answered him.
“Right. Then a while later, someone named Mason called him back. Remember? Didn’t he specifically say, ‘Thanks for calling back,’ when this guy Mason called him.”
“So, you think Mason is someone in the government and is a friend of Cal’s?” Carvelli asked.
“I think we need to find out who this Mason guy is. It’s not a very common name. We should be able to find him,” Marc said. “Tony, have Paul start a search for a Mason in the government. Start with the DOJ and FBI.
“Maddy, give Paxton a call, and see if she knows anyone.”
Marc looked at his watch and said, “I should go. I’ll see if the bail money is in. Thanks again for that, Vivian.”
“I’m not worried about it. I’ll get it back,” she replied..
FORTY-EIGHT
Tony Carvelli took the back stairs to Marc’s office two at a time. For a man in his fifties—even compared to most American men in their twenties—Carvelli was in excellent shape. The impressive fact regarding his physical condition was that he did next to nothing for it. He ignored his bad diet and spent zero time in the gym. Yet his waist size was the same as when he was in his twenties and running up the back stairs had no effect on his breathing. Likely due to his one concession to healthy living having given up smoking many years ago.
Once inside the law offices, he greeted everyone, especially the secretaries, with his usual banter. Happy to see him, as always, they gave it right back to him. He nodded toward Marc's closed office door and looked at Carolyn who told him Marc was on a phone call.
“Take your chances,” Carolyn said when Carvelli silently pointed at Connie’s door.
He knocked on Connie’s door and without waiting for a response, opened it just wide enough to stick his head in.
“Hello, beautiful,” he smiled and said.
“Well, hello, Mr. Charm,” Connie replied. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
Carvelli stepped inside, closed the door and took one of the client chairs, then said, “I need to see Marc.”
“Have you found this Mason person?” Connie asked.
“Person? When did you become so PC?” he asked.
“Screw you; I’m not. Mason is also a girl’s name, dummy,” she replied.
“It is? Damn, I hadn’t thought of that,” he said, a thoughtful look on his face. “Although, I’m not sure it matters. But to answer your question, no, not yet. I’ve been meaning to ask you, if you don’t mind…”
“And if I do mind, you’ll ask anyway,” Connie said.
“True, but you might not tell me. How’s the stockholder’s suit going?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Connie sighed. She reached into her middle desk drawer and removed a cigarette and a lighter. She pushed her chair back to the window behind her desk, opened it and lit up. After blowing a stream of smoke through the window, Connie continued.
“We’ll be able to get most of their initial investment back but none of the gains they should have received. I’ve been trying to get the feds involved, but they’re not interested.”
“Why? This should be their deal.”
“I know. I’ve talked to Paxton about it and she’s getting stonewalled on her end, too. Too many heavyweight politicians involved. A lot of small investors are getting hosed and they don’t seem to care,” Connie told him.
“This can’t be an isolated thing. This kind of insider trading and stock manipulation…”
“Goes on all the time,” Connie finished the thought for Carvelli. “Money, politicians, power, and more money. How do these people enter Congress penniless and leave multimillionaires? They get to make the rules.”
“How many times do I have to tell you?” they heard Marc ask. “There’s no smoking in Minnesota. Smoking in Minnesota is the only crime punishable by death,” he said as he closed the door and sat down.
“Yeah, yeah, screw you, Mr. Health Nut,” Connie said.
Ignoring Connie’s comment, Marc asked Carvelli, “What did Paul find out about this Mason guy?”
“Could be a girl,” Connie said.
“Okay, guy or girl,” Marc replied.
“The name, Mason, is not as uncommon as we thought. There are almost a thousand of them working for the federal government,” Carvelli answered. “He narrowed it down to the FBI and DOJ and even there, came up with a list of thirty-two just in the D.C. area.”
“Okay, that’s a workable number at least. Now what?” Marc asked.
“I saw my guy…”
“Paul,” Marc said.
“… this morning. Barely an hour ago. He’d been up all night and needed some sleep. Later he’ll start going through them individually to find any connection to Cal Simpson or Aidan Walsh or any of the aliases we’ve come up with. It will take some time, but if it’s there, he’ll find it.”
“How’s our girl?” Connie asked.
“Maddy’s fine. They are still on her, but it’s getting looser, I think they bought into the job cover,” Carvelli said.
“I got a call from Rob this morning. My friend at the firm. They have a couple calls for her. No messages but they covered for her,” Marc told them.
Carvelli handed Marc a small brown paper bag with two items in it. One was a small Tupperware-like container with a brown liquid in it. The other was an unwashed, empty coffee cup.
“What?” Marc asked holding the item up.
“The coffee cup and what was left in it on Brooke’s desk the morning Knutson was murdered,” Carvelli answered.
“You broke into a crime scene and stole this?” Marc asked.
“Well, um, that’s a harsh way of looking at it,” Carvelli replied feigning hurt feelings. “I would say we gathered evidence for analysis.”
“That does sound better,” Connie said.
“Thank you,” Carvelli told her. “See,” he continued, looking at Marc, “I have an experienced officer of the court who agrees with me.”
“I didn’t say I agreed with you,” Connie replied.
“Minor detail,” Carvelli replied waving his hand at her. Carvelli
took a slip of paper out of a pocket and gave it to Marc.
“Chain of custody sheet,” he said. “I signed and gave it to you. You sign and get it to a lab unless you want me to.”
Marc put the two items back in the bag and handed it back to him. “Yeah, go ahead. We need to find out what she was drugged with.”
“There are drugs, date rape drugs, derivatives of roofies and new things that are out there that the body would metabolize very quickly. But, if it came from the coffee she drank, and I think it did, it should still be in here. Coffee doesn’t metabolize drugs the way the liver does,” Carvelli said holding up the bag.
“Which brings me to another question,” Carvelli said. “How did whoever did this know Brody Knutson would be in his office that early? Assuming it was Cal or somebody like Aidan, how did they know?”
“Somebody tipped them,” Marc replied. “The problem is, in a firm that size it could be any number of people who know his work habits.”
“It had to be a phone call and not from an office phone. I got a list of names of people who work on the same floor as Knutson. It’s a place to start. I gave it to Paul this morning. He’s going to search for phone numbers for them and see if he can track any calls to one of the phones for Cal and Aidan. How’s Brooke doing?”
“She’s fine. She’s home,” Marc said.
“God, I feel guilty about dragging her into this,” Carvelli said.
“Don’t. They would have done it anyway,” Marc said.
“Probably, but still…”
Paxton O’Rourke walked quickly through the cubicle farm toward the big corner office. Her boss, Norah McCabe, had summoned her to a meeting and being a minute late was not acceptable.
At first, when she read the email with the summons from Her Majesty, Paxton felt a real shiver of concern. Then she talked to a couple of the other lawyers who said they were also scheduled. Every one of the lawyers was meeting with her for a case briefing. McCabe had spent very little time at the Chicago office over the past month. The rumor was, she was back from a career advancement round of ass-kissing the higher-ups in D.C. and she needed catchup briefings from everyone.
Insider Justice: A Financial Thriller (Marc Kadella Legal Mysteries Book 8) Page 30
