“At least fifteen minutes and could have been as long as an hour.”
With that, Gondeck ended his direct examination and turned Marston over to Marc.
“Isn’t it true, doctor, you have no idea who did this, do you?”
“No, no medical evidence of who did it,” he agreed.
“Was it one person or two or maybe three people who stabbed him?”
“Likely one, unless they took turns because the wounds were all done using the same knife,” Marston chuckled at his wit.
“Isn’t it true, Robert Judd could have done this himself?” Marc asked trying to move on from the mistake he had just made.
“Well, I don’t…”
“Yes or no, doctor,” Marc said.
“Yes, it’s possible,” Marston reluctantly replied.
Marc kept at him for a while finally realizing he had gotten all he could from the M.E., an admission he did not know who did this, Marc ended his cross-examination.
Having entered every piece of information and evidence he had, Gondeck rested his case. Marc went through the formality for the record of requesting a directed verdict from Judge Graham. Graham quickly denied the request then spoke to the jury.
“I understand the hour is getting late and you’re all anxious to get home for the holiday weekend. However, I have promised the defense the opportunity to make an opening statement first. We’ll take a quick ten-minute recess then Mr. Kadella will address you. Thank you for your patience.”
When court resumed Marc stood in front of the jury and started out by profusely thanking them. He also assured them he would be brief and to the point. A promise he kept.
Normally an opening statement is to be used to tell the jury what the lawyer was going to present for his or her case. It is also an opportunity to indoctrinate them.
Marc spent very little time telling the jury what his witnesses were going to tell them. Gondeck had already put on an expert to explain the drugs found in Maddy’s system. The prosecution’s expert also made it clear that in her opinion, with the level of roofies and LSD in her system Maddy could have committed the murder. The roofies would not have knocked her out before she could have done it and the LSD would have likely helped her do it.
Marc had been thoroughly educated by his drug expert how to go after the prosecution’s witness. He was able to score several points and came close to getting her to admit she was stretching reality with the claim Maddy could have done it as drugged as she was.
Now Marc told the jury his expert was going to tell the jury it would be extremely unlikely anyone could do this with the amount of drugs Maddy had in her system. And he reminded them that Gondeck had not addressed the question of how Maddy became drugged in the first place. Still uncertain about letting her testify, Marc was careful not to over promise and tell them he would fill in that gap. He did give them the information that the defense had several witnesses who had known the defendant for years and she was not a drug user. His clear attempt to imply she was surreptitiously drugged.
“Finally, ladies and gentleman,” Marc said wrapping up. “Remember before the trial started each of you swore an oath to keep an open mind. Each of you promised not to decide this case until you had heard all of the witnesses and seen all of the evidence.”
Marc stopped, took a couple of small steps to his right and looked at each and every one of them. Several actually nodded their heads and they were all paying close attention.
“So far, you’ve only heard one side of the case. Yes, Robert Judd was brutally murdered. There is no point in denying it. But the one thing the prosecution has failed to deliver is motive. A squabble in a restaurant two weeks before this happened is hardly enough to prove any level of animosity between them. And we will present witnesses to counter that claim anyway. No, the real issue here is: why was he murdered? Keep that question in mind because you’re about to find out and it has nothing to do with Madeline Rivers.”
That last statement was a promise Marc sincerely hoped he would be able to keep.
When Marc finished speaking and Graham excused the jury, Charlie Dudek clicked off his television set. He had never had any feelings while watching a televised trial before. Charlie, without really understanding why, was having ambivalent feelings about it. He knew he should not care how it came out, in fact, he knew he should be pulling for a guilty verdict. At the same time, he was totally fixated on the defendant. Charlie found himself hoping she would win and was troubled by why he felt that way. And on top of that, he was sorry the show would not be on for several more days. It was going to be a long weekend for him.
“It is going well,” Victor Espinosa said into his private cell phone. “Our man in the courtroom believes it will take a minor miracle to get her off.”
“Yes, that seems to be true,” Quinones replied. “But we’ve only seen one side. It does appear to be that the prosecution has made a serious case.”
“The picture of her holding the knife is damning. The jury will get more of that before it is over,” Espinosa said.
The two friends chatted about other things, money things, for another few minutes. Quinones wished his friend a Happy Thanksgiving then ended the call.
THIRTY-SEVEN
“Mr. Gondeck, do you have any questions for this witness?” Judge Graham asked.
“Not at this time, your Honor,” Gondeck answered.
Graham looked down at Gloria Metcalf and said, “Thank you, Ms. Metcalf. You may step down.”
It was after eleven on the Friday morning following Thanksgiving. Gloria Metcalf had been on the stand in the closed empty courtroom, under oath, telling Judge Graham her story. Marc had prepared her the day before and she did an excellent job. She handled herself smoothly and most importantly, credibly.
“Anything else?” Graham asked Marc.
“I have an expert waiting in the hall who has been through the documents Ms. Metcalf obtained…”
“Stole,” Gondeck interjected.
“…from CAR Securities.”
“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Kadella. I believe her but it’s irrelevant. I’m not going to allow those documents to be admitted into evidence. Mr. Gondeck is right. They contain confidential, proprietary information and they are stolen. But I will allow Ms. Metcalf to testify about those securities and what Robert Judd told her. Also, I will allow you to subpoena Walter Pascal and put him on the stand.”
Tony Carvelli was sitting with Gloria Metcalf in the first row of the gallery directly behind the defense table. As soon as Graham said he would allow Marc to subpoena Pascal, Tony sent a brief, four-word text message. ‘Serve Walter Pascal only!’
Five minutes later a well-dressed, professional looking man in his late fifties walked into CAR Securities office. He was one of the retired cop friends of Carvelli’s who had been watching Walter Pascal and knew he was in the CAR offices.
“Hi,” he politely said to the receptionist. “Walter Pascal, please.”
“Do you have an appointment?” she politely asked.
“No, but it’s very important and I just need to talk to him for a minute. It’s sort of an emergency,” Tony’s guy said.
She placed a quick call and barely thirty seconds later a curious Walter Pascal appeared.
“Are you Walter Pascal?” the gentleman asked.
“Yes, what’s the emergency?”
The man smiled, handed Walter a piece of paper and said, “You’ve been served, pal. See you in court.” He then turned and calmly walked out leaving a steaming Pascal staring at his back.
In the hallway outside the courtroom Marc, Maddy, Tony and Gloria Metcalf were huddled together.
“Now what?” Maddy asked Marc.
“Without the CAR documents proving the securities were a fraud, it’s going to be more difficult to prove Pascal is lying.”
Marc looked at Gloria and asked, “Is there anything else you have that we can use against Pascal?”
“Just my word. Won’t
they believe me?” she asked.
“It’s hard to say,” Marc said. “Pascal will say you’re a disgruntled employee out to make trouble. Gondeck will come after you for not coming forward sooner.”
“I was scared,” she said.
“I know and it’s okay,” Marc assured her. “Do you know anyone else at CAR that Rob or the other guy, Pat McGarry, might have talked to?”
“I have a couple names to check,” Tony said. “I’ll get them this weekend.”
Tony’s phone rang, he answered it and had a brief conversation.
“My guy served Pascal,” he told Marc after ending the call.
“Okay, let’s get some lunch then Tony will take you back to the hotel,” Marc said to Metcalf.
“I need to go by my townhouse and pick up some things first,” she said to Tony. “Is that okay?”
“Sure, no problem,” Carvelli replied.
While Gloria punched in the security code to unlock her front door, for at least the fourth or fifth time she apologetically assured Tony it would not take long. “I just need a few things,” she said again.
Smiling, Tony replied, “Gloria, relax, we have all day. In fact, take your time and make sure you’re getting everything. I’m just sorry you have to go through this.”
As they walked through the entryway, Gloria turned to look back at Carvelli and said, “Me too but I think it’s the right thing to do.”
She took one step into the living room and yelled, “Oh my God!”
Her home looked like a biker gang had thrown a party in it. Every piece of furniture was smashed. The couch torn to shreds, the pictures and photos on the walls had been used for Frisbees and thrown around the room.
Carvelli grabbed the shocked woman’s arm and pulled her back to the door. While he did this he urgently whispered, “We have to get out now. Someone might still be here.”
Carvelli got her outside and back into his car. He retrieved a .40 caliber automatic from his glove box and called 911.
While the two of them waited for the police, Carvelli stood guard by his car, gun in hand. Gloria sat in the passenger seat in stunned silence.
Carvelli had identified himself to the 911 dispatcher as ex-MPD. It helped because, in barely a minute, the first patrol car arrived. There was a lone MPD sergeant in it who Carvelli was acquainted and friendly with. By the time Carvelli explained to the man what was inside, two more cars with four more cops arrived. The sergeant sent two of the newcomers around back to check the patio while he led the other two, with Carvelli trailing, into the house. Five minutes later, with guns drawn, the cops had cleared every room and were satisfied no one remained inside.
Back outside, the sergeant, Ed Rollins, called it in and requested a CSU team and detectives. A half-hour later, while the CSU team began going over the ruins inside Metcalf’s home, Carvelli was explaining things to a detective he knew.
“You think this might have something to do with Maddy Rivers’ trial?” the detective, Sam Booker, asked Tony.
“Sam, I don’t know any more than you do. It does seem a bit too coincidental that this happened to a witness I’m babysitting,” Tony replied.
Booker looked Carvelli in the eyes with a skeptical look on his face. “I’m open to suggestions,” Booker said.
“I told you, Sam. Your guess is as good as mine,” Tony said.
“Bullshit. I know you too well. You’re pulling my weenie, Carvelli, and I know it,” Booker said poking Carvelli in the chest with a finger.
At that moment, Booker’s partner, Carl Sweet came out of the townhouse with Gloria Metcalf. Gloria was doing her best to fight back the tears in a losing battle. When she reached Carvelli, he held her while she cried into his chest.
“The place is totally trashed,” Sweet quietly told Booker and Carvelli.
“All my stuff is destroyed,” Gloria sobbed. “If…” she started to say but Carvelli put a finger to her lips to stop her before she blurted out the name of CAR Securities.
Gloria stepped back, wiped her eyes and sniffled while looking inquisitively at Carvelli.
“Are you done with us?” Carvelli asked Booker.
“What were you going to say, miss?” Booker asked ignoring Carvelli.
Gloria’s eyes shifted between the detective and Carvelli. She understood Tony wanted her to keep quiet so she said, “Ah, if I find out who did this, well, they’re going to pay.”
“Uh, huh,” Booker skeptically replied. He turned to Carvelli and said, “If you know who did this, I want to know. I don’t want you getting in the way of a police investigation, Carvelli.”
“Sam! Would I do that?” Carvelli innocently asked.
“Yes, I know you would,” Booker said. “And I’ll put your ass in jail if you do.”
“Look, she’s obviously upset. Your guys are inside doing their thing. We’re gonna take off. If I think of anything, I swear I’ll call you right away. In fact, give me your card with your cell number, okay?” Carvelli said.
Both detectives handed Carvelli a business card. Carvelli shook their hands then hustled Gloria into his Camaro and they got out of there as quickly as possible.
While he drove off, Booker said to his partner, “He knows what’s going on here.”
“Will he tell us?” Sweet asked.
“Yeah, we’ll find out. When he’s ready,” Booker replied.
Carvelli was seated in his car in the underground parking garage of a high-rise condo building off of downtown Minneapolis. He had a clear unobstructed view of the two-year-old Cadillac XTS that belonged to the subject of his surveillance.
When he and Metcalf left her townhouse, Carvelli called Vivian Donahue and told Vivian what happened. Of course, Vivian told Tony to take Gloria shopping for anything she needed, which he did. On the way to a suburban mall, he called Marc to let him know what was going on.
Reasonably suspecting that CAR Securities had a hand in vandalizing Metcalf’s home, Tony decided what his next move should be. Several hours later he was now waiting to talk to an old acquaintance.
A few minutes before 7:00 P.M. the building’s elevator doors on Tony’s right opened. A tall, well-dressed, attractive, elegant looking woman stepped off the elevator. Tony watched her with a slight smile on his face as she came toward him in the well-lit garage. Without noticing him sitting there she strolled past his car headed toward the Cadillac.
Tony quietly exited his Camaro and said, loud enough to be heard, “Hello, Gretchen, it’s been a while.”
The woman let out a shriek, spun around toward the noise and stumbled backward a step and a half while clutching her heart. Barely breathing she stared at the source of the greeting for several seconds before recognition finally came to her.
“Tony? Is that you? My god, what’s it been, fifteen years?” she exclaimed. “And what the hell are you trying to do, give me a goddamn heart attack? Come here you big lug,” she said holding out her arms.
Tony walked over to her and they gave each other a warm embrace.
Tony stepped back and said, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to scare you. You look fabulous.”
“Thanks,” she smiled. “You look pretty good yourself.” She paused, looked him up and down then said, “Wait a minute, you’re up to something. Why are you here waiting for me and what do you want?”
Tony nodded his head once then said, “I need a favor from you and you’re the only person I can get to help me with this. Are you working tonight?”
“No, in fact, I was going out for a bite to eat,” she replied.
“Let me buy you dinner and I’ll explain what I need,” Tony said.
THIRTY-EIGHT
The waiter sincerely thanked Carvelli and Gretchen for their orders, took the menus, turned away and walked off to place their order. They were in an Italian restaurant called Zelo on Eighth and Nicollet in downtown Minneapolis. Gretchen was well known there and despite her profession, was always welcome.
“So, Tony Carvelli,
how the hell are you? God, it’s good to see you again,” Gretchen said reaching across the table to squeeze his hand.
“You, too,” Tony smiled. “But this isn’t a coincidence.”
“I gathered that,” Gretchen said then sipped her wine. “You need a favor. How did you find me?”
“I’m a cop, or more accurately an ex-cop. We know everything,” Carvelli smiled. “Actually, I was at the Leamington a while back and saw you there with a client.”
“You could’ve stopped to say hello,” she admonished him.
“No, I couldn’t. It was your client I was interested in.”
“Oh, I see,” Gretchen softly said. “And who was he?”
“His real name, or at least the one he’s using now, is Ethan Rask,” Tony said then described Rask to her.
“That’s a guy I know as Edward. Not one of my favorites,” she said. “He can be a bit of an arrogant ass, and he’s cheap. He always insists on taking me to dinner then bitches about the bill. Like he expects me to pay for half of it. Plus he’s getting to be a little rough. I don’t mind dishing it out for the right client, if you know what I mean, but I’m not gonna take it.”
“I do,” Tony said. “So, you might not mind losing him as a client?”
“No, not at all. I’ve been thinking about dumping him anyway. What do you have in mind?”
“When do you see him again?”
“Tomorrow night, in fact. We’re going to a new Mexican restaurant on Hennepin.”
“Perfect,” Tony said. “I have something for him. Slip it into a Margarita to cover the salty taste. Here’s what I want you to do…”
Carvelli was sitting in the back seat, passenger side of a Ford van waiting for Gretchen. With him were two other ex-cops, Jake Waschke and Dan Sorenson. Both men, also friends of Maddy Rivers, were fully versed on what to do and were 100% in favor.
It was the Saturday night of the Thanksgiving weekend, the night Gretchen had her ‘date’ with Ethan Rask. Tony had given her a very illegal drug to slip into Rask’s drink that would knock him out and make him very easy to handle. They were parked in a neighborhood in South Minneapolis where the residents minded their own business and were reluctant to call the police.
Marc Kadella Legal Mysteries Vol 1-6 (Marc Kadella Series) Page 246