Exquisite Justice

by Dennis Carstens

  “I ain’t…”

  “Shut up! Don’t treat me like a fool.”

  “Yes, sir,” Jimmy replied, the anxiety back.

  “Get out. One week, I want you to give a detailed report to Lewis on this Tony Russo and all of your employees.”

  After Jimmy had fled, Damone told Lewis to get the photo and information about Tony Russo to Delmar to check him out.

  “I think he’s a refugee from Witness Protection,” Damone said.

  “Sounds like it,” Lewis agreed.

  “Let’s find out.”

  At precisely noon, Damone’s burner phone for the day rang. The three of them were in Damone’s second-floor office waiting for this call.

  “It’s Jeron,” Lewis said as he handed the cheap flip phone to Damone. Damone waited until Lewis and Monroe left before answering the call.

  “Are we ready?” Damone asked without even saying hello.

  “They won’t be able to change this month’s shipment,” Jeron replied. “It’s too late. The shipment for the first and second weeks of October,” Jeron replied.

  “First thing next month,” Damone said. “Good. That is sooner than I thought. How were you treated?”

  “Like a prince,” Jeron said. They were referring to a week-long business trip to Mexico Jeron returned from the night before. “We are a favored customer,” Jeron said.

  “They are animals,” Damone said. “When we are ready, we should deal with them.”

  “Everything is proceeding better than we had hoped,” Jeron reminded his older brother. “Now for the next, more profitable phase.”

  “Yes, you’re right. Stay in touch. Take care, brother,” Damone said then ended the call.

  Fentanyl-laced opioids from China, Damone thought. Yes, more money from the next phase.

  Twenty-Nine

  “Yeah, Russo,” Tony Carvelli said answering his drug dealer phone.

  “Yeah, it’s me,” he heard the caller say.

  “Me who?” Carvelli gruffly said to make the caller tell him even though he knew exactly who it was.

  “It’s me, Jimmy,” Jimmy Jones replied.

  Upon meeting Chip’s wholesale provider, Jimmy Jones, Carvelli decided to act the tough guy with him. Despite the entourage/bodyguards he had surrounded himself with, Carvelli could sense Jimmy was not a tough guy.

  “Okay, tell me,” Carvelli said. “What did you find out?”

  “We can do business,” Jimmy replied. “When can you come by?”

  “An hour,” Carvelli abruptly said.

  “Yeah, that’ll do, see you then,” Jimmy said, but he was talking to himself. Carvelli had hung up.

  “I’m in,” Carvelli said into his phone.

  He was in his car a few minutes after receiving the call from Jimmy, on his way to pick up his “partner”, Wendy Merill. He had called her first to get her ready, then placed his current call.

  “What do you need?” Jake Waschke asked.

  “Get one of the guys to follow me.”

  “Dan Sorenson’s here,” Waschke replied.

  “Good. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  Carvelli entered the limo service office in his disguise and greeted his friends. Jake and Dan were the only ones there.

  “What do you think?” he asked them as they stared.

  “Looks good,” Waschke replied.

  “Are you kidding? It’s a huge improvement,” Sorenson said.

  “Very funny, smartass,” Carvelli said.

  “Seriously,” Waschke said. “If they had a picture of you as Carvelli, I don’t think they’d make the connection unless they knew you.”

  “What do you need from me?” Sorenson said.

  “Just cover my back. I’m going to meet these mutts and I need some backup. When I leave, I want you to wait to tail me and see if anyone else does first. Use your phone. Stay in touch.”

  “You got it,” Sorenson assured him.

  * * *

  Carvelli parked on Dupont across from Jimmy’s apartment building. With a nervous Wendy beside him, he crossed the street. Waiting on the stoop were two of Jimmy’s thugs, including the one Tony had put down the first time he was here.

  They stood when Carvelli reached them and indicated he should raise his hands to be searched. Instead, he shook his head.

  “No, not again,” Carvelli told them. “I’ll tell you right now, I’m carrying and I’m gonna keep it.”

  There are four steps leading up to the building’s front door. Carvelli was standing on the bottom one and the two guards were two steps above him. Wendy was on the sidewalk behind Tony. Carvelli took two steps back to get on the sidewalk. Wendy moved further away.

  “If your boss wants to do business with me, he better realize now I’m not some street punk. Call him,” Carvelli said.

  The big one with the sore right hand called upstairs.

  “Yeah. That Russo guy’s here. He won’t give up his piece.”

  He listened for a moment then asked Carvelli, “Did you bring money?”

  “I’ll talk to your boss,” Carvelli replied.

  “He’s bein’ an asshole. He won’t tell me,” the guard said into his phone.

  He listened for a moment, said “okay” and ended the call.

  “You can go up,” he said. He pointed at Wendy and said, “Not you.”

  Carvelli had taken a step up on the stoop. Without stopping, he said, “She’s with me. Now get of the way.”

  Wendy hurried to get behind him as the second guard held the door for them. Once inside they started up the stairs.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Wendy whispered. “Are you trying to get us killed?”

  “Relax,” Carvelli said. “I know what I’m doing. We’ll be fine.”

  Watching from his car a half a block away, using small binoculars, Dan Sorenson suppressed a laugh. He saw the entire mini-drama and knew the wiseguy Tony Russo had just put Jimmy Jones and his pals in their place.

  “Mr. Russo,” Jimmy said greeting Tony as he was led into the apartment. “Please come in. And the lovely Wendy. Please welcome. Something to drink?”

  Carvelli and Wendy sat down on a couch facing Jimmy who was in a wingback chair behind a small table in the living room. The guard who had opened the apartment door stood silently behind and to the left of the couch. His hands were crossed in his front and he was holding a large, chrome, semi-auto handgun. Probably a .45.

  “I’m not here to socialize, Jimmy. Let’s do a little business so I can get on with mine,” Carvelli told him.

  “Whatever you say, Mr. Russo,” Jimmy said flashing a smile with a mouthful of gold-filled teeth. Jimmy reached down on the floor and picked up a small, brown, paper bag. He removed two boxes identical to the ones Carvelli had found in Chip’s hidey-hole in Nicolette’s basement. He placed the boxes on the table.

  “Here’s your dope. Now, let’s see the money.”

  Carvelli removed a plain, white envelope from his inside coat pocket and stood up. With two steps he was at Jimmy’s table. He leaned down and while placing the envelope in Jimmy’s hand whispered in his ear, “If your guy even blinks, I kill you. Keep your hands on the table.”

  Carvelli stood, looked at the gunman and smiled. The guard stared back with a totally inexpressive look on his face.

  “No, no, my man,” Jimmy said holding up both hands. “I don’t do business that way. I ain’t no crazy Colombian. I’m a businessman. We can do a lot of business if we just treat each other with respect. This ain’t no rip-off.”

  By now, Jimmy was counting the cash in the envelope. Two-hundred used one hundred-dollar bills. When he finished counting, he stood and extended his hand.

  “We good,” Jimmy said.

  The two men shook hands and Wendy stood and moved to the entrance to the living room. Her purse was over her left shoulder and in her right hand was a small .22 caliber semi-automatic handgun.

  “Just like I promised, four hundred, fifty mills and two-fif
ty eighties,” Jimmy said referring to the number and size of the opioids then sliding the boxes to Carvelli. “Forty grand on the street. I get twenty percent. One week.”

  “No problem,” Carvelli said. “Let me have that paper bag.”

  “Sure,” Jimmy smiled again. “No charge.”

  “Cute,” Carvelli replied as he put the boxes of pills back in the bag.

  “These will go fast. I have a lot of connections.”

  “Back East?” Jimmy asked.

  “I’m going to want to meet your boss and soon. I’m looking for a source to move a lot of weight. I ain’t working with some Mickey Mouse street wholesaler,” Carvelli said ignoring the question.

  “Hey! No need to be insultin’,” Jimmy said. “But meeting my boss, I don’t know. I doubt he’ll want to.”

  “It will be worth his while,” Carvelli assured him.

  * * *

  As Carvelli pulled the rented Lincoln away from the curb to drive away, Wendy said, “I thought I was gonna pee in my pants back there. Chip practically threw himself at Jimmy’s feet and you try to start a gunfight. What the hell?”

  “Just showing him, he’s not dealing with Chip anymore,” Carvelli said.

  “No, shit!” Wendy said. “But you know what?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “That was the coolest thing I’ve ever done. I’ve never felt so alive. I wish I had your balls,” Wendy said.

  Sometimes I wish I did, too, Carvelli thought as he looked at Wendy with a smirk.

  Carvelli had barely turned the corner on 28th Street to go east when the Cadillac DTS pulled out of the apartment parking lot. There was only one person in it. One of the guards, the smaller one, was driving it. He immediately punched the gas to go after Carvelli.

  Dan Sorenson pulled away from the curb and hit Carvelli’s phone number. He made it through the same green light the Caddie did on 28th as Carvelli answered the call.

  “He’s in the beige Cadillac a couple of cars behind you,” Sorenson told Tony. “The smaller guard from out front of the apartment.”

  “Yeah, I see him,” Carvelli replied looking in his mirror. “You want to get in front of him and block him at a light?”

  “Will do,” Sorenson said.

  Wendy was listening to Carvelli’s side of the conversation.

  “Are we being followed?” she asked.

  “Yeah, we are,” Carvelli said. “But I have a friend who’s gonna cut him off. I don’t want them following us.”

  Sorenson got ahead of Jimmy’s guy and at Garfield Ave, Carvelli had his chance. The light turned yellow and he sped up to get through it. At the same time, Sorenson hit his brakes and forced Jimmy’s guy to stop. By the time he realized what had happened, Carvelli was gone.

  Wendy had turned around to see if anyone had run the red light. Satisfied, she looked at Carvelli. A silent twenty seconds went by before she spoke.

  “You’re not who you say you are, are you? You’re a cop of some kind. You’re too cool. Too smooth. You’ve done this stuff before and I don’t buy this BS that you’re a gangster.”

  Carvelli kept going heading toward downtown now. All the while Wendy kept looking at him waiting for a response. Instead, he pulled out his phone and made a call.

  “Did I wake you?” he asked when the call was answered.

  “It’s afternoon, Tony,” Gretchen Stenson said. “What do you think I do all day? Screw and sleep? I have a normal life just like everybody else.”

  “Sorry, you just, you know, keep unusual hours.”

  “Did you make a deal?” Gretchen asked.

  “Yeah,” Carvelli told her. “Now comes the tricky part. We’ll be at your place in ten minutes.”

  “Good. I have to tell you,” Gretchen said, “this is kind of exciting.”

  “I know, you’ve told me. See you in a little bit.”

  “Well, are you going to answer my question?” Wendy asked.

  “I’m not going to tell you much right now. I don’t know how much I can trust you. But, if you want to stay out of jail,” he continued, turning to look at her, “and get a life back, this is your best chance. Well?”

  Wendy thought about it then said, “For some reason I can’t figure out, I trust you. So, yeah, I’m in.”

  They drove for another couple of minutes when Wendy suddenly spoke up again. “I almost forgot. I know for a fact Chip never paid Jimmy more than ten percent of the gross. Not twenty.”

  “Hmm. Interesting,” Tony replied. “Good to know. I’ll find the right time to use that.”

  Thirty

  “I’m thinking you’re going to need some help,” Marc told Maddy. The two of them were sitting in the living room of Marc’s townhouse. “I don’t know how many people the cops have questioned, but I think it’s safe to assume a lot.”

  “You don’t have any statements in the discovery,” Maddy said, a statement not a question.

  “That doesn’t mean much,” Marc said.

  “What about some of Tony’s guys? They’re all ex-cops. They should know how to interview a witness,” Maddy said.

  “That’s what I was thinking,” Marc agreed. “Plus, they’re working for a cop defendant. Interesting how cops can quickly change their minds about lawyers when it’s one of their own.”

  Maddy narrowed her eyes, stood up and walked to where Marc was sitting. She uncrossed his legs, sat down on his lap and lightly kissed his left ear. With her arm around his neck, she snuggled and kissed his cheek.

  “It’s not gonna work,” Marc said. “You’re not coming with me this morning.”

  “Oh,” she said and lightly slapped him on the shoulder. “But I want to see-”

  “Get up, you’re wrinkling my suit pants,” Marc said.

  “-Margaret.”

  “Come on,” Marc said and swatted her on her rear. “Get up. I have to go.”

  “Oooh, you keep that up and we’re not going anywhere,” she purred then laughed.

  “If she stays on the case, and I’m sure she will, you’ll see plenty of her. Call Tony and see about getting some help. We don’t have a lot of time to prepare.”

  “I will,” Maddy said. By now they were both standing facing each other. Marc was silently looking at her.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Aren’t you going to fix my tie?”

  Maddy looked at him and said, “Nah, you’re on your own.”

  “Great. We’re already starting to act like an old, married couple.”

  Maddy stopped, crinkled her nose and said, “You’re right. It’s too soon. Come here.”

  She fixed the knot in his tie, they kissed and went out together.

  Marc entered the very familiar Courtroom 1745 in the downtown Government Center. His motion in front of Margaret Tennant was scheduled for 10:00 A.M. and Marc was a little early. Sitting in the front row was Arturo Mendoza. The prosecutors were not there yet.

  Margaret was conducting a motion on a civil case when Marc got there. As he walked up the center aisle, Margaret looked at him and they flashed each other a smile. He looked at Margaret’s clerk seated next to the bench. Marc had known Lois for several years. This morning, while one of the lawyers prattled on, she looked back at him, narrowed her eyes and gave him a stare of disapproval. Knowing Lois, the way he did, Marc had to cover his mouth to avoid laughing. When she saw this, she smiled back at him.

  At 9:55, Margaret stopped the insurance defense lawyer midsentence.

  “You keep repeating the same argument,” Margaret told the man. “Do you have anything new to add?”

  “Well, um, no, your Honor,” the lawyer replied.

  “I’m granting the plaintiff’s motion, Mr. Lockhart. Your argument is not persuasive, and the Bailey case is clearly dispositive.”

  “Your Honor,” the same lawyer began, “I must object…”

  “You’re free to pursue an interlocutory appeal, Mr. Lockhart. Of course, you’ll be appealing to the same court that decided Bailey. That�
��s up to you. Anything else, gentlemen?”

  When neither side said anything, she gaveled an adjournment as Steve Gondeck and Jennifer Moore came through the front doors.

  “On the next matter, I’ll see counsel in chambers,” Margaret announced.

  On their way back to the judge’s chamber, the lawyers, all of whom were well acquainted, gave each other a pleasant greeting. When they were all seated in front of the judge’s desk, Margaret started the discussion off the record while her court reporter set up next to her desk.

  “You didn’t seek recusal,” she said looking at Marc.

  “I have no problem with you presiding, Judge. I know you well enough to know you’ll be fair and impartial,” Marc replied.

  “Does your client know, Marc?” she asked.

  “Oh, yeah, that reminds me,” he said. He reached in his portfolio and removed a manila folder. He took out two sheets of paper and handed one to the judge and one to Steve Gondeck.

  While she read it, Judge Tennant asked, “Mr. Gondeck, are you aware that Mr. Kadella and I were involved in a personal, romantic relationship?”

  “I am, your Honor,” he replied. “I talked it over with the Felicia Jones. We are satisfied with you presiding.”

  “Are you?” Marc asked Margaret.

  “Yeah. I’ve thought it over and as long as there is full disclosure, I’m okay. Both of you should know, if you want me out, now is the time to say so and I promise I’ll understand and not hold a grudge.”

  When neither side made a comment, she continued. “Okay, let’s put this on the record.”

  Margaret’s court reporter had been patiently waiting. Margaret read the case name and number and the lawyers, in turn, noted their appearance.

  “Mr. Dane is not joining us?” she asked Marc.

  “No, your Honor. I didn’t feel it was necessary.”

  Judge Tennant made a brief statement for the record regarding her previous relationship with Marc. When she finished, in turn, both the defense and prosecution agreed that it was not necessary for her to recuse herself. The judge also noted that the defendant had been fully informed and waived recusal in writing.