The therapist waited almost a full minute like this then said, “Catherine, you need to get it out.”
“I know,” she replied. “I’m just trying to think of the best way to start. It was, well, a very bad weekend and…”
“Okay, that’s a start. Now tell me about it,” he said urging her to continue.
And tell him about it, she did.
For fifteen minutes, she spoke almost without interruption, pausing only to catch her breath and gather her thoughts. She even told him about the physical abuse, the assault with the bath towel. When she finished, she sat back and allowed an obvious look of relief to come over her demeanor.
“It’s time you went to the police,” Chase said.
“I know,” she answered. “But who will they believe? And I think he is going to kill me. Or, drive me to suicide.”
“Has he threatened your life?”
“No, not really.”
“Have you had suicidal thoughts?”
“No,” she lied. “I mean, maybe a little. But never serious.” She paused then continued by saying, “You know why I would never do that? Because of my son and daughter. Whenever I get that down, that depressed, I see their faces and I know I could never do that to them.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, I love them too much to cause that level of pain.”
“Good, hang on to that. Are you still taking your meds? We can increase the dosage if you think it will help.”
“Yes, I’m taking them and I don’t want to increase it,” She replied.
“What about…?” he began to ask but stopped when she interrupted him.
“I lied a minute ago when you asked if he’d ever threatened to kill me.”
“All right, what happened?” he gently asked as he sat up straight.
“He did threaten me Saturday night. And it’s not the first time,” she quietly told him.
“How many times and when?”
“Not that many,” she answered almost defensively. “Maybe three or four over the past year. I don’t believe he’d actually do it. Or at least I didn’t until Saturday.”
“Why was this time different?”
“Because he wasn’t angry when he said it. In fact, he was quite calm.”
“What exactly did he say?’
“Well, um, after he, ah, got through hitting me with the towel, he very calmly said, and I want to be sure I get it right, he said, ‘One of these times you’re going to disobey me and I’ll kill you and be done with it.’ I’m pretty sure that’s an exact quote. I never brought up his threats before because I never really believed him, but now I’m not so sure.”
“You have to go to the police and…”
“And what?” she interrupted. “Tell them a respected judge is an abuser? He knows everything and everyone in the system. He’ll never answer for it. I have no proof and he knows it. And,” she hesitantly continued, “there’s something else.”
“Okay, what?” he quietly asked urging her to go on.
“It seems, or so he says and I believe him, he’s kept a journal, a record of all of my problems. Every therapy session I’ve ever had, every doctor I’ve ever seen, including you, and all of my medication over the years. Everything. And he’s threatened to use it to have me institutionalized unless I do what he says. He’s holding it over my head.”
“I see. Well,” Chase said, “I actually don’t think you have much to worry about. I would certainly testify…”
“You don’t know him! The lawyers and judges he knows! With his money he could do it,” Catherine practically screamed.
“Catherine, relax. I’ll help you through this.”
“I know,” she said. “It’s just, well he scares me and…”
“Relax for a minute, okay?”
“Okay,” she said as she sat back, took a deep breath and stared up at the ceiling while the doctor talked to her.
“First of all, you have got to protect yourself. The abuse has to stop. The next time, you have to call the police. Second, start a journal of your own. Go back as far as you can remember to when the abuse started and make your own record. That way, if he tries to go through with his threat to have you institutionalized, you will have a record of it. Send me a copy and make sure you list all of your previous therapists.”
“You’re right,” she said looking at him. “I’ll start working on that right away.”
A half-hour after leaving the therapist’s office Catherine met her good friend, Ava Hammond, at their favorite lunch spot, Lesley’s on the Lake, a very upscale restaurant overlooking Lake Minnetonka. Fortunately Ava knew the hostess who seated them at a small table on the patio right next to the railing with a great view of the water.
Ava was three years younger than Catherine and despite the fact that she was a little on the heavy side, maybe thirty pounds, because of her height, five feet eleven, there was an animal sensuality to her that attracted men like flies.
The two of them met at some long forgotten charity or fundraising event. Ava was married to a successful dermatologist and she had a thriving real estate firm of her own for which she was constantly cruising for business. No doubt this was the reason she had attended whatever event it was at which she had met Catherine and their friendship had grown from there.
The waitress brought their drinks, a margarita for Ava, a vodka gimlet for Catherine, and then she took their lunch orders. As the waitress departed Ava took a small sip and said, “You look terrific girlfriend, but something’s wrong. I can see it in your eyes. Tell me.”
Catherine smiled weakly and said, “You’ve known me too long. I can’t hide anything from you. Are you sure you want to hear this?”
”What’s the asshole done now?” Ava asked, obviously referring to Catherine’s husband.
Catherine stared out across the lake, sipping her drink and thinking over what she wanted to say. Finally, she turned to her friend and told her everything that had happened in the past few days including her session with the therapist.
Pleased with herself for having only one drink at lunch, Catherine was quite sober when she stopped at a stationery store and bought paper and a three ring binder to use as a journal. When she arrived at home it was still too early for Gordon to be there so she put her Lexus in the garage, went up to her bedroom, locked the door and spent the entire evening writing, very satisfied with how well her plan had started.
THIRTY-THREE
Having called ahead to be sure Vivian Donahue would be home; Tony rang the front door bell and waited for one of the staff to open it for him. While he waited, he took a moment to look around at the immaculately kept grounds fronting the estate. He watched as a team of workers from a professional grounds keeping company went about their business cutting the grass, trimming trees and hedges and carefully tending the numerous flower beds and gardens strategically placed throughout the estate. Tony couldn’t help wonder what it must be like to live with this kind of wealth. Would life be simpler, more pleasant or just more complicated?
The sound of the door opening behind him slightly startled him and he turned around to see that Vivian herself had opened the door. Pleasant hellos were said and she stepped aside to let him enter. She looped her right arm through his left and began to lead him through the cavernous foyer.
“Since it’s such a beautiful morning, let’s go out and sit by the pool. That way you can watch my granddaughter swim laps in her bikini.”
“Vivian!” he laughed. “I didn’t come here to ogle Adrienne. You should be ashamed of yourself for even suggesting it.”
“Why? She’s gorgeous, don’t you think? What red-blooded American man wouldn’t want to see her in a bikini? Besides,” she continued with mock solemnity as he opened the French patio door for her, “I said look but don’t touch. I’m very protective of her, Anthony.”
“I’m sure you are,” he said with a large grin. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
She led him to a shaded, glass
-covered, wrought iron, patio table with several chairs scattered around it. He held the first chair for her then took one facing her but away from the pool where Adrienne was smoothly swimming laps.
“Don’t want to be distracted?” she playfully asked him.
“I’d rather look at you,” he quickly responded.
“Nicely played and very charming,” she laughed. “Touché.”
Turning serious she said, “I assume, Anthony, this isn’t a social visit. Do you have some information?”
“Yes, I do, Vivian, especially about Prentiss and his relationship with Leo Balkus.”
At that point one of the housekeepers appeared delivering a tray with a pitcher of lemonade and two tall glasses. The housekeeper and Vivian, a woman in her mid-forties named Mary, casually chatted for a minute. Vivian even introduced her to Tony. As Mary walked back toward the house Mary mildly chastised the still swimming Adrienne to be careful of the sun. Tony was mildly surprised when he heard Adrienne pleasantly call out to her, “I love you too.”
“Mary and her husband Peter, you probably saw him overseeing the grounds keepers, have been with me since before Adrienne was born. They’re both terrific and I make sure they are the highest paid people in their profession in this state,” Vivian said as she filled each glass.
While they drank their lemonade and enjoyed the perfect day Tony filled her in on what he had done and found since last seeing her on Saturday night. He told her about following Prentiss and then spotting Conrad Hilton, the mention of whose name elicited a hearty laugh from Vivian. Tony left out the part about Maddy Rivers luring him to a seedy motel, only letting her know who Conrad was and what he had done for Leo.
“What is going on at this place? Is it some type of high-priced brothel?” she asked.
“Yes, it seems to be.”
“And this Balkus, he is filming prominent men using his services and blackmailing them?”
“That I don’t know for sure, but it’s possibly a good guess.”
“Why else would he go to the trouble and expense of wiring the place for audio and video? Plus these men know he’s doing this and they still go there? What do men think about?”
Tony didn’t answer the question and after a thirty-second pause, she said, “It isn’t what they think about. It’s about what they think with. I thought you guys eventually outgrew that. Stopped letting your penis run your life…”
“Wait a minute,” Tony protested. “What is this, ‘you guys’ stuff? Geez, give some of us a little credit.”
“You’re right,” she said smiling. “It’s just so incredibly stupid…”
“It’s worse than that,” he interrupted her. “It’s incredibly corrupt. This little sleaze bag Leo Balkus has judges, prosecutors and prominent politicians in his pocket and he’s not doing this for amusement. He owns these people.”
“How many of them are there?”
“I don’t know. Conrad figures maybe twenty-five or thirty spread out through the entire metro area and several counties.”
“Who has access to the films?”
“According to Conrad, it’s all hard-wired directly into Leo’s office at his restaurant, The Blue Lady, and into Leo’s computer and server. He thinks Leo makes disks out of it; a separate record of each person. He claims only Leo has access to it but I’m not sure Conrad is telling the truth.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because I know him and after all those years as a cop and investigator, I can usually tell when someone is lying and I think he lied about that. I think he knows someone who has access to it or can access this stuff himself.”
Vivian sat quietly contemplating what she had just learned, thinking over what she should do next.
“What are your plans?” she asked.
“You tell me,” Tony replied. “I found out pretty much what you wanted to know. It looks obvious that Leo has Prentiss in his pocket and Ike would get a walk from what he did to your nephew no matter what. That was what you hired me for, to find out what happened to Robert and who was involved.”
There was another long pause while she contemplated what Tony had told her after which Vivian said, “Yes, I’m sure you’re right but it’s a lot worse than we thought. Will you keep investigating and see if you can come up with more details? I’d really appreciate it. I’d like to put this Balkus creature out of business if possible. And apparently there are some public servants in this state who aren’t really serving the public that need to be dealt with as well.”
“Sure, I’ll keep digging. But don’t underestimate Leo Balkus. He has people killed. In fact, I suspect he had Carlton Bishop and that bartender I talked to both murdered.”
“Then you be especially careful,” she quietly said as she leaned forward and placed her left hand on top of his right one.
“You too,” Tony replied feeling a little more warmth in his hand than what he should have. “In fact, make sure you don’t go anywhere without armed security.”
“Do you really think that is necessary? I have security here but…”
“Yes I do,” Carvelli said with emphasis leaning forward and looking her squarely in the eyes. “I’m sure Leo knows I’ve been nosing around and he likely knows who it’s for. I’m not worried about me. I don’t believe Leo would take a shot at a former cop but you, he wouldn’t care about. Make sure Steve Fallon has you covered. In fact, to be sure, I am going to call him myself.”
“All right, Anthony,” Vivian said as she removed her hand from his and smiled at him. “It’s very charming of you to be so concerned about me.”
“That and I want to make sure I get paid,” he said as he winked at her to which they both laughed.
When Tony left, Vivian went into the library to make a discreet telephone call to her former lover on the east coast. She quickly brought him up to date on what Tony had revealed to her. They talked for a few minutes and agreed to meet in the near future to discuss the matter more thoroughly, away from anyone who might be listening to his phones.
THIRTY-FOUR
As Tony drove back into downtown Minneapolis from the western suburb where the Corwin estate was located, he dialed his cell phone and impatiently waited for it to be answered. When the call went to voice mail, Tony said, “Conrad, this is your new best friend. In case you’re wondering, we met last night. You have my number, and I want a call back right away. Don’t make me wait.”
Tony then pulled out his wallet and while steering with his left hand went through the wallet and found Steve Fallon’s business card. He dialed his direct line and Fallon answered on the second ring. Carvelli told Fallon about his conversation with Vivian Donahue and his recommendation for her personal security. Fallon agreed and assured him he would have it done that afternoon. He had several excellent professionals on the Corwin payroll, including a couple of ex-secret service agents. Vivian would be well protected and by competent, well-trained professionals and not armed thugs.
Relieved that one problem was off of his plate, he continued his drive toward downtown. Just as he was entering the fringe of downtown Minneapolis, his cell buzzed. He looked at the readout and saw it was Conrad returning his call.
“Hey,” Conrad said after Tony answered, “it’s me calling you back.”
“Do you have what I want?” Tony asked.
“Listen, um, ah, I don’t have access to everything you think I do and…”
“Where are you?” Tony interrupted him.
“I’m ah, by Uptown. Why?”
“Great. Listen. There’s a bar on the northwest corner of Charles and Lake. I’ll meet you there in ten minutes,” Tony ordered.
“I don’t know, I mean…”
“That wasn’t a suggestion, Conrad,” Tony said.
“Okay, I’ll be there. It’s not far.”
After Tony hung up on him, Conrad looked west down Lake Street and could see the place Tony had referred to. He shut off his phone and placed it in the inside pocket of his che
ap, plaid sport coat and slowly walked toward the meeting place. The restaurant’s entryway, Molina’s, was on the corner of the building facing the busy intersection. Conrad looked around and noticed a man watching him from a second story window in the building diagonally across the street from him as he waited for Tony to arrive.
Conrad turned to his left to look north up Charles and saw Carvelli briskly walking toward him. The appearance of the ex-cop made the surveillance expert’s anxiety level rise noticeably and Tony’s warm greeting and handshake did not alleviate it. Conrad went into the restaurant first and just before he stepped through the door, Tony turned, looked across the street and unnoticed by Conrad, waved at the man who had been watching Conrad from the window. Marc Kadella stuck his head out of the open window, smiled and waved back at his friend. Marc, naturally curious, wondered who the man was that his P.I. friend was meeting.
The hostess led the two men to a booth in the almost empty restaurant. They settled onto the booth’s bench seats and didn’t speak to each other until the waitress had returned with their order, which was just coffee for each of them.
“I want names, Conrad. I want to know who Leo has in his pocket,” Tony began.
“Messing with Leo scares me, ya know?”
“That’s something you should’ve thought about before you went to work for him. Besides, I’ll bet he paid you plenty to do this for him.”
“Yeah, right,” Conrad sneered with a sardonic laugh. “The asshole stiffed me. He was supposed to pay me ten grand up front, another forty when the job was done plus the cost of the equipment. He paid the ten grand and I haven’t seen another dime. Plus, he’s using it to keep me working for him. He’s been paying me for other, smaller jobs and keeps putting me off for what he owes me.”
“No honor among thieves, Conrad, what can I tell you? Are you really surprised that this crook would bend you over? So, now I want names,” Tony continued while Conrad sulked at the thought of what Leo had done to him. “And I want to know how to hack into Leo’s files.”
Marc Kadella Legal Mysteries Vol 1-6 (Marc Kadella Series) Page 62