by J. W. Lucas
“Jesus, Boss, this seems like so much white-collar crime stuff. My interest is a girl’s murder and a judge getting shot.”
“I hear you Daryl, but the way this Grand Jury is structured the others can investigate the insurance fraud and possible tax fraud. Where do you stand on your end?” he asked.
I told Damian that I was waiting to hear from Jacob Meisner with the search warrants I needed. Everything hinges on them. I told him that I was bringing Mandy and Judge and Lindsey Moran down to Stockbridge for a couple weeks for their safety, considering what had happened.
“Daryl, with all that you’ve gotten yourself into up there, how the hell do you sleep at night?”
“I don’t Boss. You’ve seen Mandy. Do I need to say anything more?”
“Ah…to be young again, I remember those days. Just don’t screw things up by getting yourself killed. It’s really starting to sound like Chicago up there. Call me when you’re ready for my techs to help you.”
“I will Boss, thanks.” I said and ended the call.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mandy coming up to the car. I got out, and she hugged me. “I saw you in the car for a long time and I was getting worried, then I saw you were on the phone. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, that was Damian. He gave me some information that I needed. Everything is fine, in fact coming together faster than I had hoped.”
“Good. What do you want to do about dinner? I could use a nice meal. What do you want me to cook for you?”
“Why don’t we go to the Shaker Barn Tavern for dinner instead? It’s a family place, and the food is excellent. We can plan to eat around six-thirty.”
“That sounds great. Hey! Let’s go inside my love, I’m feeling like we need a nap.”
“Yes, Ma’am I’m right behind you!” I said, not hiding mu enthusiasm.
When we got inside I saw that Mandy had fashioned three beautiful arrangements, and the aroma made the house feel like a home. We shared a steam shower and took our nap.
Sure, we did!
Chapter 17
Mandy and I slept late Friday morning, and we decided to have
breakfast at the Red Lion. She was in the shower when I took a phone call from Jacob Meisner.
“Richardson? Meisner here. I have your Federal search warrants. All of them; The doctor’s office, the bullets at the hospital, and the courthouse.”
“That’s great Mr. Meisner. Can you get the originals Fed-X’d to me overnight?”
“I can do better than that. I spoke with Capt. Merrill in Major Crimes; he wants to get the warrants into your hands as soon as possible. He said he’ll assign a trooper to drive down and hand deliver them to you.”
“Thanks, that would be great. One problem though, I’m down at my house in Stockbridge Mass.” Meisner was quiet for a moment.
“Well, that’s not a problem. I’m sure a Vermont State Trooper can find Massachusetts. Give me your address and I’ll pass it up to headquarters.” I gave him the address and asked him to give my cell number to the trooper who would be assigned.
“I will. I’ll have my paralegal also make up two certified copies of the warrants in case you need them.”
“Excellent, thank you, Sir.” I said.
“Richardson, I also got search warrants for the Sheriff’s sub-station in Ethan Falls and his main headquarters in Hamilton. Capt. Merrill is assembling warrant teams to execute them early next week. You may want to give him a call to coordinate your work. That should get the attention of those County guys.”
“Great thought. I have State Sgt. Jon Michaels assigned to me. He’ll be coordinating my warrant team and bringing in some of his people. I’ll ask him to touch base with Capt. Merrill,” I explained.
“Oh? Michaels is a good man. Tough as they come if things get nasty. You know Richardson, don’t let it go to your head, but after reading the warrant affidavits, you’ve put together a hell of a case in record time. On a personal note, just find the bastard that killed the girl. I Googled her Facebook page and saw that she was a beautiful and amazing young woman. I have a granddaughter about her age, so this is hitting home with me. Just be careful and good luck.”
“I will Mr. Meisner, and thanks for all of your efforts on this.” Attorney Jacob Meisner didn’t respond, he just hung up.
Mandy and I had brunch at the Red Lion, and after we ate I drove her to a local market to stock up on groceries. I learned that Ms. Mandy Simmons had a strong domestic side to her. Her choice of meats and vegetables were heavy on the healthy side as were the ten large grocery bags that we took home with us. I didn’t have the nerve to ask her if she knew how to cook world class meatloaf and beef stews like I could. In case you’re wondering, yes, I would occasionally cook meals at my Boston condo. I told her that a Vermont State Trooper would be driving down with some important paper that I needed for Monday. She looked at me but didn’t seem fazed by that. “Oh, nice. If he’s hungry after his drive I can make him something to eat before he goes back,” she said nonchalantly. “Do you have to work this weekend?” I told her no, that our plans hinged on Judge Moran being discharged on Saturday.
“Hey Daryl, if you were thinking we would drive up to the hospital and help Lindsey with getting him discharged, I’d like to pick up my car and drive it down here.”
“You don’t like the Camaro?”
“I love it but I’m afraid to drive it! I don’t know how long we’ll be staying down here, and I don’t want to leave my Jeep sitting in the condo lot.”
“Okay, Hon, whatever you want we’ll do it.” I went outside to the garage and saw that Erik was working on the lawn tractor. We chatted for a while, and I took a ‘restricted’ in-coming call. It was Vermont State Trooper Rick Anderson telling me that he was picking up the search warrants and that he expected to be in Stockbridge between two and three this afternoon. I gave him directions from the center of Stockbridge to the house, and he said he’d find it. When I got off the phone Erik asked, “Daryl? Are you planning to keep doing the government work that you’re doing?”
“Yeah, I really haven’t given any thought to doing anything else, why?” He thought before he spoke.
“It’s just that after meeting Mandy, Bernie and I were hoping that she’s the girl for you. You, know, settle down, maybe start a family, and enjoy everything that your aunt has provided you.”
“I do think Mandy’s the girl for me, Erik. No, not think, I know it. But she asked me to wait for about a year before we talk about anything permanent between us.”
“Smart girl.”
“How so?”
He put down his wrench and wiped his hands with a rag. “Daryl, you’ve only known Mandy for what, a couple weeks? And in that time you’re involved with murder cases, hit men, and lord knows what else. Are you sure that she can handle those things in your life?”
“I don’t know Erik, but I hope so. I guess we’ll just have to see how this all plays out.” He didn’t pursue the conversation and went back to his work. I walked around the house and went inside to the family room. Mandy was sitting out on the deck taking in the sun. I went over to my office set-up and thought I would write up a report of my recent activities. When I sat down, it struck me that it worked fine for one person, but when I had all the renovations done I hadn’t thought about a formal home office, something that could accommodate two people. I could convert one of the guest suites I thought, but quickly talked myself out of it. I found a contractor’s tape measure in a kitchen drawer and went out to the deck. I stood there looking around and started to measure the length of the deck
. I saw Mandy look at me over her sunglasses. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but now what?”
I told her that I was thinking that we needed a formal home office and thought maybe we could enclose part of the deck and cut an entry into the house somewhere.
“Don’t you ever rest, Daryl Richardson?” “Sometimes. I like to take naps!”
“That I know, but seriously
, do you really want a home office?”
I told her, yes, and we spent the next two hours looking around, measuring and bouncing ideas off each other. About two-thirty I saw an unmarked police car coming up the driveway, and we greeted Trooper Anderson. This man was big! At least six-four, wide shoulders, in his crisply pressed uniform and hat he looked like a recruiting poster. I introduced myself and Mandy and invited him into the family room. He wasn’t shy about telling us how much he loved the house.
Mandy insisted on making him a sandwich, and while she was in the kitchen, it gave the Trooper and I some time to talk.
“Daryl,” he said, “these Abbot County cops are a rough crew. The word around our barracks is that you Feds are going to take down the whole department.”
“Well, that’s an exaggeration Rick, but I think that their leadership may have some issues we’d like to talk to them about.”
“You know,” he said, “they have some good young cops down there. But the Sheriff gives them the least active patrol areas. What a waste of their talents. A lot of those guys are putting in for jobs in my department.”
“Do you know Sheriff Hunter?” I asked
“Porky? I’ve been on the job for twenty-one years and yes, he and I have banged heads a few times over jurisdictional and cooperation issues. I don’t know exactly what you’re looking at him for, but I will tell you, the guy is dirty. And his two detectives, Carpa and Manning, I wouldn’t trust them as far as I can throw them. They’re snakes. Just watch your back with those two.”
“Thanks for the heads up,” I said as Mandy came into the room with some sandwiches and drinks on a tray. “It’s nice outside, let’s eat on the deck.”
We enjoyed our late lunch with some light conversation. Trooper Anderson had a lot of questions about the house, and he and Mandy talked about each other’s backgrounds. When we finished, he asked to use a bathroom and excused himself. After he went inside Mandy whispered, “Daryl, he is huge! Can you get him to work on your team? Nobody is going to mess with that guy.”
The Trooper came back to the family room, thanked Mandy for his lunch, and he and I exchanged business cards.
“Daryl,” if you find that you need some more manpower assistance from my department, please keep me in mind.” I assured him that I absolutely would, and we saw him on his way. Mandy and I went back onto the deck, had a drink and spent the afternoon relaxing. About seven thirty in the evening I got a phone call from Bellington Detective Captain Dan Monroe.
“Daryl, not interrupting dinner, am I?”
“No Dan, what’s up?” I asked as I got up and walked into the kitchen.
“I just got a call from the County Jail where we were holding Carpanara before his arraignment on Monday. A lawyer and a bondsman showed up trying to post his bail.
“I charged him with attempted murder, possession of a firearm by a convicted felon, and possession of a silencer. I asked for no bond, but the bail commissioner set it at seven hundred fifty thousand dollars, cash or surety. I did my best to get it cash only, but the Ccommissioner wouldn’t go for it, he said that would be punitive and unreasonable. “Dan, didn’t you say he was on parole? Can’t you detain him for violating that?”
“His on-line jail release record says parole, but there’s no warrant information. When my detectives got notified that he was trying to post his bond they made phone calls to the Jersey authorities but were told no one was available to verify his status. We tried to get the name of his parole officer, but there’s nothing on file they said. The State Parole office number goes to phone mail.”
“I can’t believe this Dan. Did you notify the FBI? They could prefer Federal firearms violation charges.” I said.
“Too late Daryl. After two hours of trying to stall his lawyer, he went ballistic and threatened to wake up a Judge and demand his client’s immediate release on bond. The Shift Commander at the jail was contacted, and he allowed the bondsman to post the bail.”
“Dan, tell me that’s not so! What bail bond company was it?” “Freedom Bail Services. But it wasn’t a guy the jail normally deals with, and the lawyer is from out-of-state, but he produced documents to show he’s licensed in Vermont. I just got off the phone with the jail Shift Commander, he said his officers made copies of both guy’s IDs. We ran them, they’re both fake IDs.”
“Dan, I received word late yesterday that the US Attorney’s office in Boston has evidence that Freedom is a sham company. Their bonds aren’t backed by an insurance company.”
“Dammit, Daryl, how were we supposed to know that? Freedom has been doing bond business up here for years. Damn, Damn, Damn!” “You wouldn’t have any way of knowing Dan. The US attorney is working with the FBI to get a statement from the insurance company that appears on the paperwork Freedom filed with the State to prove that they’ve been uninsured for the last couple of years.”
“Well, Daryl, the damage is done. Carpanara’s gone. This is a huge screw-up!”
I was almost ready to let loose with a rage of vile words, but I caught a glimpse of Mandy standing at the kitchen entrance. My raised voice had scared her.
“Okay Dan, thanks for the info. I need to think this through. Maybe I can quickly apply for a Federal warrant. I’ll call you tomorrow.” “I’m really sorry Daryl, I’m sick over this, and I’m worried that these sons-of-bitches may try and hit the Judge again.”
“I am too, Dan, but hopefully we’ll be moving the Judge to a safe place tomorrow. I’ll let you know. I just need some time to think. Good night.”
I went back into the family room and sat down in the recliner. Why didn’t the jail get on the internet and verify the lawyer’s credentials with the State’s on-line database? And why was the Shift Commander so intimidated by the threat to wake up a Judge? It would take hours to draw up a writ demanding release on bail, and I couldn’t imagine any
Judge signing off on it without a hearing. Damn!
Mandy sat down on my lap and laid her head on my chest.
“Daryl, I don’t want to know what’s wrong. I just want this nightmare to end, and I want you out of all of this.” I sat there without talking, brushing her hair with my hand. She was right, this was a nightmare, and I brought her into it. I wasn’t too happy with myself at that moment.
She got up, and I went over to my laptop and started typing up an affidavit to obtain a fugitive warrant for Pasquale Carpanara. I lost track of everything around me until I felt her hand on my back. “This is something bad, isn’t it?” I nodded yes. “But I’m going to make it better,” I said, and went back to my typing. She kissed the top of my head and said that she was going to bed. I turned and watched as she walked from the room. I really hated myself for dragging her into this.
I typed until almost one in the morning. I read the affidavit a half-dozen times and made edits until I was satisfied that it was brief, concise and flowed smoothly. I just needed probable cause, not a book. I would call Dan Monroe tomorrow and get the names of the lawyer and bondsman who had been at the jail. All I had to do was insert them into the narrative and I was done. I wondered to myself if Mr. Yale Law Jacob Meisner had any moments like this. I went to bed and prayed that Judge Moran’s discharge in the morning would go off without another nightmare.
Saturday morning Mandy and I got up early, had breakfast, and I called Lindsey. She said that she had already been on the phone with the Judge’s surgeon and the attending doc, and they were signing off on his discharge. She said they were trying to get him ready for eleven AM, and I told her that I’d meet her at the hospital about 10:30. Mandy grabbed her empty suitcases, and we headed up to North Bellington.
She didn’t talk much on the ride, other than some chatter about what clothes she wanted to pack. The New England weather starts to cool off quickly in early September, and she wanted to be ready.
I dropped her off at the condo and she said she was all set and didn’t need any help with her luggage. She gave me a kiss goodbye, and I headed over to the M
edical Center.
When I got to the Judge’s room I was surprised to see that both Kaitlyn and Captain Dan Monroe were inside with Lindsey. I greeted them and said, “Hey folks, everything okay?”
“Hi Daryl, yes, all is well,’ Kaitlyn said.” Dan and I wanted to see the Judge off and make sure that there weren’t any last-minute discharge glitches. We’re just waiting for some paperwork.” I shook hands with Dan and pulled him aside and thanked him for being here.
“After yesterday’s screw up at the jail it’s the least I can do. Two of my detectives are in an unmarked car outside; they’re going to follow you down to the Mass border. I don’t want to take any chances with something going wrong. We don’t know if those two hit men are still up here in Vermont.”
“I appreciate that Dan, but I’m thinking that they’re long gone. I wrote up a Federal arrest warrant application last night, but I need the phony names that the lawyer and bondsman used at the jail. If I can have warrants issued, I’d like the FBI to take the case if that’s okay with you.”
“Sure, that will work. I’ll call my office right now and get the names for you.” I went over to Lindsey and gave her a hug. “Daryl, thanks for being here. I won’t be able to relax until we get Forrest down to your place. Where’s Mandy?” I told her that I dropped her at the condo to get some more clothes, and she wanted to drive her car down to the house.
“Are you sure you’ll have room in the driveway for all of our cars? I don’t want our being there to inconvenience you.” I assured her I had room, and thought to myself, was she going to be surprised when she got there.
Lindsey had her car out in front of the hospital, and I told her that when we left I would drive ahead of her and that Capt. Monroe would have an unmarked car follow us to the State line. I could sense she was nervous. At 12:15 an orderly showed up with a wheelchair for the Judge and we were whisked down to the lobby in a service elevator, accompanied by Lindsey, Dan, the uniformed police officer who had been guarding the room, and one of the hospital guards. Dan Monroe wrote the names I had asked for on a business card and gave it to me. Once inside the elevator Judge Moran finally spoke “I didn’t want all this fuss but thank you all.”