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

by Dennis Carstens

  “Shut up, Sheriff. He doesn’t need any ideas,” Abby said.

  During the winter, after having worked together for two years, the love bug had bitten both Newkirk and Abby. The wedding was set for mid-June.

  “Who, me, nervous?” Newkirk said feigning a heart attack.

  “Very funny, you too. I’m the one who should be nervous,” Abby said. “You should thank your lucky stars.”

  “She has a point,” Goode said sitting down next to their desks.

  “She does indeed,” Newkirk smiled.

  Goode handed Abby the printed material, then told them both about the phone call. When he finished, the two investigators looked at each other with mildly surprised expressions.

  “Isn’t that interesting?” Abby asked.

  “I’ve been at this long enough to not be too surprised about anything. But I’d have to say, after everything that happened, this will rank in my top ten,” Newkirk replied.

  “I was thinking,” Goode said, “Since you’re not doing much around here anyway, you want to go down to the Cities and deliver the news in person? This should be done with more than a phone call.”

  “Yeah, I agree,” Newkirk said. “You want to run down there?”

  “Yes, I do. There’s this store at the Mall of America I want to check out,” Abby replied.

  “Thanks,” Newkirk said to Goode. “Now I get to go mall shopping.”

  “Have fun,” Goode laughed. “You should call ahead to make sure he’ll be there.”

  “Please, dear God, let him be on vacation,” Newkirk muttered.

  He was not.

  Thanks to the wonders of GPS technology, Newkirk had no trouble locating Marc’s office. The two of them arrived fifteen minutes early, parked in the back lot and went up the back stairs.

  Because of the interest and curiosity, they used the conference room for the meeting. Everyone in the office crowded in to hear what the investigators had to say. Newkirk’s phone call to Marc had made it clear that they had important information about Zach Evans’ death.

  Newkirk and Abby were given seats at the head of the table while everyone else took the other chairs or brought their own. It was Abby, because she had read through the report on the drive down from Foster, who started off.

  “We got a call from a Chief Stone with the Michigan City P.D. this morning. That’s Indiana. He told us and sent us the case file, about who was behind the death of your friend, Zachary Evans,” she began looking down the table at Marc, Maddy and Tony Carvelli.

  “Do you remember a guy you defended a few years back for killing his wife?”

  Marc took a little too long to remember so Abby filled in the blank.

  “A former judge by the name of…”

  “Gordon Prentiss,” Marc said. “What would Gordon Prentiss have to do with this? I didn’t know he even knew Zach or why he would …”

  It was then the light went on in Marc’s head. Uncertain though, he kept quiet.

  “Don’t know if he did know Zach Evans. In fact, according to the confessions in the report,” Abby continued. She held up two copies and slid them down the table to Marc, “it doesn’t look like he did.”

  She paused, looked very seriously at Marc and said, “Evans was killed by mistake. You were the target,” she said confirming what Marc had just realized.

  The room almost exploded as everyone tried to ask questions.

  “Stop!” Marc loudly said. “She’ll get there. Go ahead, Abby.”

  “Apparently, he’s a very bitter, angry guy. He maintains his innocence and blames you for losing his trial.

  “While in prison—I guess he’s doing his time at Indiana State Prison in Michigan City—he made friends with another inmate, a wiseguy wannabe who hung around bad asses in Boston. Prentiss, who still has access to money, had a hundred thousand dollars wired to an account this other guy, Jimmy Burke is his name, set up. Burke hired two guys he knew to do the job.”

  “The Tierneys,” Carvelli said.

  “Right,” Newkirk replied.

  “Anyway, they were following you for about a week. They were supposed to make it look like an accident but never got the chance. They followed you to Foster when you were representing Evans. The driver…”

  “Little Mikey,” Newkirk said.

  “…isn’t, or rather wasn’t, the brightest bulb on the tree. He saw you guys and mistook Zach Evans for you.”

  “You’re both about the same age, same size and hair color,” Maddy said to Marc. “And, like she said, this guy wasn’t the smart one. Sean O’Rourke told us that.”

  “That’s right,” Marc agreed.

  “Prentiss and Burke have been on bad terms ever since. Prentiss wanted his money back and Burke had no way to do that. He had already paid the Tierney’s.”

  “And they disappeared shortly after the hit and run,” Carvelli said.

  “Right,” Newkirk replied. “The Michigan City police checked with the Boston P.D. Boston’s snitches say the Tierneys are buried in the New Hampshire woods. They believe their demise is unrelated to your case. Ryan had been having a little fling with a mob boss’s mistress. At least that’s the rumor.”

  Abby said, “The acrimony between Prentiss and Burke came to a head a couple months ago. Burke stabbed Prentiss in the chest with a homemade knife, a shiv. Prentiss wasn’t hurt too badly, but it caught the attention of the prison authorities and it all came out. Prentiss is going to be relocated and Burke got an extra thirteen years for conspiracy. Prentiss got another twenty for the death of Zach Evans,” Abby concluded.

  “To be served consecutively,” Newkirk added.

  “Do you understand what this means?” Connie asked Marc.

  “Yeah, I do,” Marc said, still a little shocked. “We set out to find out who killed Zach Evans. Instead, we unraveled a corruption scandal, insider trading crimes, money laundering, stock manipulation and murder conspiracy. And it wasn’t Zach they were after at all. It was that arrogant, pompous ass Gordon Prentiss taking a shot at me. Unbelievable.”

  “What about the other victim. The female lawyer?” Carolyn asked.

  “Lynn McDaniel,” Carvelli said. “You didn’t tell her?” he asked looking at Marc.

  “I thought so,” Marc said. “You know, I think you were out for some reason.”

  “Cal Simpson’s thug, Aidan Walsh, admitted to me he killed her,” Maddy said. “You guys got that, didn’t you?” Maddy asked Abby.

  “Yeah, we did,” Abby agreed.

  “Unbelievable,” Marc said again.

  Maddy leaned over, kissed him on the cheek then said, “It helped bring us together.”

  “Silver lining,” Marc smiled.

  “You two aren’t going to be nauseating forever, are you?” Connie Mickelson asked.

  Author’s Note

  There is no Foster County or Foster, Minnesota. I decided to use a fictitious setting for the lake home of Cal Simpson and subsequent events there. In fact, there are hundreds if not thousands of ‘Foster, Minnesota’ cities and counties. All of them containing resort areas with multiple lakes and recreation.

  Since there is no Foster, Minnesota, there was no Jacob Foster holding the flag during the charge of the First Minnesota Volunteer Regiment. At least none that I know of. The story of Jacob is an accurate portrayal of flag bearers during the Civil War. It was an honor to be chosen to do so. In fact, soldiers of both sides fought for the right to carry the flag into battle. I must admit if I had been there I likely would have put some distance between the flag bearer and myself. These men, on both sides, were bullet magnets whose life expectancy, once the shooting started, could be measured in seconds.

  The charge of the First Minnesota at Gettysburg is factual. Fewer than three hundred men, in a suicidal charge, threw themselves into a breach in the Union line and may have saved the nation. It was one of many instances during that battle and throughout the war of unfathomable courage. Men willing to sacrifice their lives for a cause greater
than themselves. And we are raising a generation who need a puppy for comfort if they hear a bad word.

  Finally, I must confess to entirely making up the street drug Roofie Express that I used to drug Brooke Hartley. Call it literary license.

  Thank you and I hope you enjoyed Insider Justice.

  Dennis Carstens