Insider Justice: A Financial Thriller (Marc Kadella Legal Mysteries Book 8)

by Dennis Carstens

  While Maddy was preparing to leave, Semple was making a phone call. Aidan’s man, Richie, had bribed the security guard at Maddy’s building. Richie told the young man he was looking for his cheating wife and her lover lived in this building. He wanted to park in the building’s private lot and look for her. Richie was in the parking lot fifty feet from the underground garage exit.

  A couple minutes after Semple’s warning call, Richie watched Maddy drive out to LaSalle. He pulled out to follow and called one of the men in a dark, Ford van a block away. Keeping their distance, they followed her a few blocks to a local convenience store.

  Maddy parked in the small, dark lot alongside the building. She went inside and went right to the freezer in back. She found what she wanted, a half-gallon of chocolate almond, then stood in line for three minutes. She paid for the ice cream and walked out and back to her car. Maddy noticed a dark, Ford van now parked next to her and an alarm buzzed in her head. When she arrived at the driver’s door, she reached into her purse and felt the comfortable grip of her Lady Smith nine mm handgun.

  “Careful,” Semple snarled at the two thugs from the van. “Be very careful with her,” he demanded.

  While Maddy was in the store, the van parked next to her car. Harry Semple arrived and watched the takedown from his car across the parking lot aisle. Semple saw Maddy’s hand go into her purse and immediately sensed it would come out holding a gun. Aidan’s men in the van beat her to it by barely a second. The one in back hit her on the left side with a high voltage taser and she dropped like a rock.

  By this time, Richie had joined them to help lift her into the van. Richie knew there was something scary about the Brit, the guy Aidan had brought in. When he said to do something, Richie and his guys did not argue.

  “Be careful,” Richie repeated while Semple kept watch.

  They got into the back of the van and laid her on a blanket. One of the men crawled up and got in the driver’s seat. While he did this, Richie pulled a syringe from his coat pocket and removed the stopper on the needle. He used his left hand to sweep Maddy’s hair out of the way and carefully shoved the needle into her neck.

  “She’ll be out for at least four or five hours. It’s only a two-hour drive, so she’ll be fine,” Richie said to Semple.

  “You stay in back with her,” Semple said. “You,” he continued looking at the man with the Taser, “take his car,” he said referring to Richie. “I’ll follow. Don’t speed. Drive carefully.”

  The two vehicles made one stop to pick up Aidan at his apartment. He got in the car Semple was driving and for the rest of the trip, the van followed them.

  “Can you guys find your way back all right?” Aidan asked Richie and the van’s driver.

  They were standing in a guest bedroom of Cal’s lake place outside Foster, Minnesota. Maddy was lying peacefully on the bed and Harry Semple was watching over her. It was almost midnight and she would be out for another two or three hours.

  “Yeah, no problem,” Richie said. “We just go out the driveway and take a left. Follow that back to the stop sign and take another left. That takes us into town and the main street. I got Google on my phone. We’ll be fine.”

  “Okay, take off. I’ll see you in a day or two,” Aidan lied.

  Semple took a chair in Maddy’s room and kept vigil over her all night. Every half-hour or so Aidan would check in on them to see if she was awake.

  “She’s awake,” Semple told Aidan waking him at three o’clock. Aidan was asleep on a couch downstairs, and the two of them went back to the bedroom. A still very groggy Maddy was lying on the bed. Her arms were extended by the ropes that were tied to the headboard. The two men stood at the foot of the bed watching her, waiting for her to come around.

  “Does Cal know what you did?” Maddy said when the cobwebs cleared.

  “Of course he knows, Madeline Rivers,” Aidan said.

  Maddy was able to suppress it so it did not show, but the use of her real name sent a shock wave through her. She immediately knew she was in very real, probably mortal, danger.

  “How are you feeling?” Semple asked.

  “Who are you?” Maddy asked the man with a British accent.

  Ignoring the question, Semple asked, “Would you like something to drink? Are you thirsty? Do you need to use the loo?”

  “Yes and yes,” Maddy answered.

  “Get her a bottle of water,” Semple told Aidan.

  “Who put you in charge?” Aidan asked.

  Semple had started untying the ropes, then said, “Just be a gentleman and get her some water, please.”

  “Be careful with her,” Aidan said, as he pulled a pistol from behind.

  “You won’t cause us any trouble, now will you, lass?”

  “Just give me a chance and we’ll see,” Maddy replied.

  Aidan leaned down in front of Maddy so his face was barely six inches from hers. They were in the basement of Cal’s lake place. Maddy was seated in the middle of the room in a simple wooden armchair. Her arms and legs had been secured with duct tape.

  Aidan smiled and while he did, Maddy was thinking about how easy it would be to break his nose with her forehead.

  “You going to torture me now, moron?” she asked.

  “I wouldn’t be so sassy if I were you,” Aidan said.

  “Why? What are you going to do to me? You brought me here to torture and kill me. Well, you dickless wonder, get on with it. I just hope I live long enough to see what Cal has in mind for you. Do you really believe he’s going to let you live? That’s laughable. That guy behind you,” she continued referring to Semple, “is here to put a bullet in your head when this is over.”

  “Not true,” Semple said.

  A furious Aidan reached back with his right hand and back-handed Maddy across the face so hard it knocked her over.

  “How’s that for a start, you bitch?” Aidan said standing over her and snarling down.

  Aidan did not see it coming and had no idea what hit him. The next thing he knew he was lying on the floor staring at the ceiling in a lot of pain. And he could not breathe. Kneeling next to him with his right hand firmly gripping Aidan’s throat was Harry Semple.

  He leaned his head down next to Aidan’s ear and whispered, “I know what you have to do to her. But until then, don’t you lay another hand on her or I’ll snap your neck like a twig.”

  Semple lifted his head looked Aidan in the eyes and asked, “Am I clear?”

  “Yes,” Aidan croaked.

  Semple helped Maddy up while Aidan found a chair. He asked her, “Are you okay, lass?”

  “What? You think that pussy can hurt me? Cut me loose and he’ll see what an ass kicking is all about,” Maddy replied looking at Aidan.

  Semple heartily laughed and said, “I believe you could do it.”

  Semple went into the downstairs bathroom and came out with a wet washcloth and towel. Despite the bravado, Aidan had hurt her badly. Another shot like that and she would be missing four or five teeth. Semple cleaned up the blood on her face and in her mouth.

  “If you expect me to thank you, forget it,” Maddy told Semple.

  “No, I don’t expect you would,” he replied. He turned to Aidan and said, “Now, we’ll just wait for Mr. Simpson.”

  “How do you know his name?” Aidan asked.

  Semple sat down across from Aidan and ignored the question.

  SIXTY

  “Come on, come on, answer your damn phone,” Carvelli said impatiently.

  It was already late Saturday afternoon and Carvelli was trying Maddy for at least the tenth time. So far all he got was five rings, then voice mail. He had left a message the first few times, but none since.

  Becoming more and more worried, he called Dan Sorenson, his guy who was to have been watching her last night. It was a brief conversation. Dan told him about Maddy calling last night and letting him go. Carvelli blew a gasket, screamed at Sorenson and told him to get over to her apartment and use the key he
had to check on her.

  Carvelli paced around his living room for a couple of minutes cooling down. He made a mental note to call Sorenson later and apologize. He picked up his phone to call Marc when an incoming call came through. It was an MPD caller ID number. Almost in a panic, he answered the call.

  “Tony,” he heard a man say, “It’s Bob Fields.” Fields was a friend and patrol sergeant with the police.

  Almost too scared to ask, Carvelli said, “What’s up, Bob?”

  “I don’t know what’s going on, but we found Maddy Rivers’ car. It’s parked at a convenience store on Grant and LaSalle.”

  “Any sign of violence? Any blood?”

  “No, not that we can see. There’s a half-gallon of melted ice cream in a bag next to her car. Nothing else. I have the night manager coming in to see if he can ID her and if he knows anything.”

  “Who caught the case?” Carvelli asked wondering who the detective was.

  “Owen Jefferson is on his way,” Fields said. “In fact, he just pulled up. I called him at home, he gave me your number then I called you. I mean, you know, everybody loves Maddy. I figured he’d want to know.”

  “You did great, Bob. Tell Owen I’m on the way.”

  Driving over fifty on streets with 30 mph speed signs, Carvelli was there in under ten minutes. Somehow, he managed to call Marc and tell him without killing anyone while he did it.

  Carvelli arrived at the scene the same time that Marcie Sterling did. Marcie was an MPD detective and former partner of Owen Jefferson.

  “Owen called you at home?” Carvelli asked her as the two of them quickly walked together toward the crime scene.

  “Yeah. Hey, even I like Maddy. Sure, I hate her because of the way she looks, but I still like her a lot,” Marcie replied.

  Jefferson saw them coming and stepped away from the crime scene tape. He greeted them and said to Carvelli, “That’s the night manager over there,” Jefferson said, referring to a black kid that looked no older than eighteen.

  “We showed him a picture of her and he remembered her right away,” Jefferson continued. “Says she came in around nine thirty last night.”

  “He remembers it that clearly?” Carvelli asked.

  “He’s a male,” Marcie said. “Of course he remembers her.”

  “He said she bought some ice cream, paid cash and left. That’s all he knows. The ice cream was found on the ground next to the driver’s side door.”

  Carvelli turned his head toward the street and saw Marc running toward them. Trying to keep up with Marc were Tommy Craven and Franklin Washington. They were babysitting Marc and had been in his kitchen when Carvelli called.

  He breathlessly asked, “Where is she? What happened? Is there any blood?”

  “Calm down,” Carvelli said.

  “Fuck calm!” Marc yelled using the F word which was very unusual. “This is Cal Simpson and his pitbull, Aidan Walsh. We need to go out to his place, kick the door in and beat the shit out of both of them!”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Washington said.

  “We can’t just…” Carvelli started to say.

  “I’m going right now. You coming?” Marc said.

  Carvelli looked at Jefferson who held up his hands and said, “I haven’t heard any of this. Did you?” he asked Marcie.

  “Any of what?” she replied.

  While Marc and the crew were on their way to Simpson’s house, Cal was packing his Mercedes to leave. Driving out he took a left-hand turn on the road at the end of the driveway to go to his lake place. When he made the turn, Marc and his friends were less than thirty seconds away.

  “What do you think?” Tommy asked Carvelli.

  The four of them had made a thorough examination of the house’s exterior. From what they could see there was no sign of life anywhere to be found.

  Carvelli, Tommy and Franklin were standing together by the pool. All three of the ex-cops were holding semi-auto handguns at their side. Marc was peering into a window next to the back door.

  “No one’s here,” Carvelli replied. “I think someone would have come out by now.”

  They heard a loud crash and looked at the house and saw Marc entering a back door. Apparently, he had kicked it open.

  The three of them took off running after him, and Franklin said, “This place is gonna have an alarm.”

  They found Marc stomping around the first floor, not quite sure what to do next. The ex-cops did.

  They caught up to Marc in the living room. Carvelli said, “There’s bound to be an alarm.”

  “Tough shit,” Marc said.

  “You wait here,” Carvelli told him. “Just wait here and we’ll clear the place.”

  “Okay,” Marc calmly agreed.

  Franklin and Tommy had already split up. Tommy took the upstairs, Franklin the basement, and Carvelli the main level. In barely two minutes, they verified the house was empty.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Carvelli said. “Minnetonka is probably on the way,” he continued, referring to the local police.

  They had arrived in two cars and pulled out of Simpson’s driveway barely ahead of the local cops. Carvelli was leading the way and he pulled onto Vivian’s driveway a quarter of a mile down the road.

  While walking toward the house Marc asked Carvelli if he had called Vivian.

  “No,” Carvelli quietly said. “You know how she feels about Maddy. This is news I have to deliver in person.”

  Two minutes later the four men were standing in Vivian’s library. Carvelli had told her. Being a paragon of decorum, Vivian took the news without comment. For a full minute, there was silence in the room, while the men waited for a reaction. Finally, a single tear trickled down each side of her face.

  “My god, what have we done?” she quietly said.

  Carvelli led her to a couch by the fireplace. He sat down next to her and held her hand while she quietly cried. The others, all three of them, wiped tears from their eyes while they watched.

  Marc sat down on the opposite couch and said, “They must be at his lake place. The one outside Foster.”

  “You’re right,” Carvelli said. “But how do we get…”

  He stopped himself, retrieved his wallet from his coat and looked through the contents, “Got it,” he said holding up a business card.

  Carvelli took out his phone, dialed the number and when it was answered, identified himself. The conversation lasted less than three minutes. He thanked the man profusely at the end of the call.

  “I got it,” Carvelli said. He stood and said, “Let’s go.”

  Before he could walk away, Vivian stood, grabbed his arm and said, “Anthony, find her. Bring her back.”

  Carvelli lightly kissed her, gave her a brief hug and said they would.

  Outside, as they scurried to the cars, Marc asked, “Who did you talk to?”

  “You remember the Foster County sheriff? I called his lead investigator, Chris Newkirk, at home. He told me he’d be at the sheriff’s office with the cavalry.”

  While Marc and company were driving to Foster, less than an hour ahead of them was Cal Simpson. When he arrived at the lake house, he was greeted by both Aidan and Harry Semple in his driveway.

  “Where is she?” Cal asked. “Is she secured?”

  “Of course,” Aidan answered.

  Cal followed Aidan downstairs with Harry Semple silently bringing up the rear. When Cal saw Maddy strapped to the chair, an odd sadness fell over him. He pulled up a chair and sat facing her about five feet away.

  “You probably won’t believe this, but it makes me sad to see you like this,” Cal said.

  “So, cut me loose,” Maddy said. “Then I’ll show you what feeling sad is really like.”

  “I’ve read your bio, Ms. Rivers, and I know you’re very capable. But I doubt you could handle all three of us,” Cal replied.

  Maddy leaned forward as much as she could, looked Cal directly in the eyes and said, “Why don’t you see if you can find t
he balls to give it a try. What do you say, Cal? Once around the dance floor?”

  “You know, hearing you like this, I think I like you even more. What a shame. What a waste,” Cal said. “The little woman has filed for divorce. We could’ve had a great life together.”

  “Except the first time I found you asleep, I would have slit your goddamn throat,” Maddy said.

  Cal laughed and said, “You know, I believe you would.”

  Cal stood and motioned for the other two men to follow him out through the patio door. When they got outside he said, “Wait until it’s good and dark. It won’t be long. Then take care of her.”

  “Don’t worry,” Aidan said. “We’ve already loaded enough chain and cinder blocks in the boat to keep her under until the fish are done with her. We’ll go out to that deep spot.”

  Cal reached into his coat pocket and came out with a thick envelope. He handed it to Harry Semple and said, “A bonus. You’ve earned it.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Simpson,” Semple said. Without looking into the envelope, he stuffed it in a back pocket of his pants.

  Cal read his watch by the light through the door and said, “I’m on a tight schedule. I have to go. I’ll see you in a few days,” he told Aidan.

  “All set,” Aidan said.

  They went back inside and Cal said to Maddy, “Sorry, darling, but I have to run.”

  “Don’t have the balls to do it yourself, you dickless coward?” Maddy asked. As terrified as she was and hurting knowing she was about to die, she was determined not to show it. She was not going to give them the satisfaction.

  “You are fabulous,” Cal said sadly shaking his head. “Such a waste.”

  While Aidan stood back with a gun in his hands, Semple tied Maddy’s hands and feet together, kneeling in front of her, with his back to Aidan to block his view while he did it. When he finished, Aidan tossed him a hand towel which he used to gag her. Satisfied she was secured, the two men carried her down to the dock and into a speedboat. Despite what was in store for her, both men very gently placed her on a bench seat along the right-hand side.