[Marc Kadella 02.0] Desperate Justice

by Dennis Carstens

  As the two women stood to leave, Vivian turned off the TV and Adrienne said with a sly smile, “What’s up with you and Tony, Grandma?”

  “None of your business young lady.”

  “So, there is something going on. Good for you. He’s kind of hot in a bad boy sort of way.”

  “Didn’t I ever tell you,” Vivian said as Adrienne held the door for her, “children are to be seen and not heard.”

  Adrienne laughed, threw her arms around her grandmother’s neck, kissed her on the cheek and said, “I love you, Grandma.”

  “Go find something to do; I have some business to attend to. And not what you think,” she quickly added when she saw Adrienne wiggle her eyebrows and smile.

  They parted in the enormous foyer, Adrienne heading toward the back and Vivienne toward her personal office where she could make a private phone call. She sat in the plush, leather desk chair, the one that originally belonged to her father, then removed her personal address book from the desk’s top right drawer. Vivian put on a pair of reading glasses, searched the book for a phone number and dialed the desk phone when she found it.

  “Ted Dahlstrom,” she heard the governor say when he answered his private line.

  “Ted, it’s Vivian Donahue.”

  “Now, Vivian, don’t start on me. It was…”

  “I want to see you, Ted,” she said interrupting him. “What time can you be here?”

  “Vivian, I had a good reason…”

  “I certainly hope so. I just prefer not to discuss it over the phone. What time can you be here?”

  Dahlstrom heavily sighed, looked at his watch and said, “Is four o’clock okay?”

  “I’ll see you then,” she replied. “Goodbye, Ted.”

  “Goodbye, Vivian,” he replied which she did not hear because she had hung up the phone.

  Tony Carvelli instinctively arose from his seat on the couch when he heard the library door being opened. A moment later Vivian came in, closed the door and as she walked across the floor of the spacious room gestured for him to sit down.

  “Hello, Anthony,” she said with a smile as she sat down on the matching sofa opposite Carvelli.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Why do you think something’s wrong?”

  “I’m a detective, remember?”

  “Oh,” she said with a flip of her wrist and a slight wave of her right hand. “It’s nothing much, just this appointment of Gordon Prentiss to fill the senate seat of the dearly departed Alan Maslin.”

  “I heard about it. That was a surprise.”

  “It certainly was. I just don’t understand what Ted Dahlstrom was thinking. Well,” she continued, “what have you been up to and what have you found out about our slimy little friend, Leo Balkus?”

  Tony told her about all of the recent events involving his investigation. He tried to gloss over the details of the confrontation he had with Ike Pitts at the Lakeview Tavern and downplay the scene in Leo’s office. Vivian would not let him. She wanted all of the details and he reluctantly told her.

  “You held a gun on that man and threatened them?” she asked more than a little startled. “Would you have shot them?”

  “Vivian, you don’t play with people like these guys. You let them know…”

  “I don’t care about them. I care about you. Won’t they try to retaliate?”

  “To tell the truth, that’s why I did it. I wanted to provoke him. See how he reacts. I have some cop friends in St. Paul and the Ramsey County Sheriff’s office keeping an eye on them.

  “I’ve hit a bit of a wall as far as Leo’s personal background goes. He showed up about 10, 12 years ago and no one knows anything before that.”

  “What do you think?”

  “Well, normally I might think some kind of witness protection deal but it doesn’t feel like that. He’s too open, too well known. When the feds put someone in the witness protection program they want him to stay low-key. They’ll look the other way with some minor crimes, like pushing marijuana and stuff like that but Leo’s too much.”

  “Hmmm, interesting,” Vivian said looking past Tony, tapping an index finger on her lips as she thought about what she had been told.

  A minute of silence passed between them then she looked at Tony and said, “Anthony, I am going to tell you something but it remains between us. You can use this in your investigation but you must never reveal your source. Will you do that?”

  “That goes with the job,” he said.

  “Very well. I have a friend back east, he’s well — how shall I put this?”

  “Connected to the mob?”

  “All right, yes. That’s a good way of putting it,” she agreed. “I recently found out, through him, that our Mr. Balkus is not from there. I had my friend check on him and he assures me that he is not formerly associated with any crime entity my friend could find. And if Balkus had originated from there and was now in witness protection, he would have found it.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes, very.”

  Tony contemplated the news for a minute then said, “That’s actually too bad. It would’ve been better if he had been. Now, I’m not sure where to go with this.”

  “I know some people in the federal government with whom I can check,” she said. “I would like you to keep digging also. Especially his businesses. Find out what you can about them. Sooner or later we’ll find what we want.”

  “Are you sure? I’m spending a lot of your money and not getting much by way of results.”

  “I’m hardly concerned about the money. Which reminds me, I have a check for you and more cash,” she said as they both stood. She went to the desk and picked up a check and an envelope and handed both to Carvelli.

  “You don’t need to keep track of every dime you spend. I trust you.”

  “Yes, I do. The taxman likes to watch me very closely. I’ve been audited five times in the last seven years by the IRS.”

  “Are you serious? Leave it to me. I’ll put a stop to that. Let me show you out.”

  When they reached the front door, he opened it and was surprised when she wrapped her arms around his neck for a quick hug, which he returned. She released him, looked him in the eye and said, “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “I always am,” he said as he leaned toward her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be in touch.”

  When he reached the bottom of the steps leading to the parking area, as he started toward his car, a black Cadillac pulled up and stopped at the base of the stone steps. Tony got to his car and just before he opened his door, he looked up and saw Ted Dahlstrom, by himself, hurrying up the steps to the mansion’s door where Vivian still stood watching both Tony leave and the governor arrive.

  Governor Dahlstrom and Vivian were seated in the library, Dahlstrom in the same spot Tony had been and Vivian exactly where she had been. She began by saying, “Ted, I’ll concede it’s none of my business, but I’m at a loss trying to figure out why…”

  At that moment, there was a soft knock on the library’s door. A moment later, Vivian’s favorite housekeeper, Mary, entered carrying a tray with a sterling silver coffee pot and two gold inlaid china cups. Mary set the tray on the coffee table between Vivian and the governor, filled both cups and set the pot down.

  “Thank you, Mary,” Dahlstrom said as he reached for the cup and saucer.

  “Will you need anything else, ma’am,” she asked Vivian quietly pleased Dahlstrom had remembered her name.

  “No, Mary, thank you.”

  Mary left the room and Vivian said, “I just have to ask, Ted. What were you thinking appointing that lightweight imbecile to the U.S. Senate?”

  When he finished explaining it to her, he sat back on the couch and waited for her to respond. She had been silent throughout his monologue and was now thinking over how much, if anything, she could tell him. She was sorely tempted to inform Dahlstrom of Prentiss’s ties to Leo Balkus, but she had no solid evi
dence to back up any accusation. It would only serve to put her friend, the governor, in a very difficult position. How could he withdraw the appointment based on little more than hearsay? She decided the best course of action for her would be to keep this information about Prentiss to herself, for now.

  FORTY-SIX

  Marc Kadella stepped off the elevator on the seventeenth floor of the court side of the Hennepin County Government Center. It is a big granite building in downtown Minneapolis that takes up two city blocks and houses the county government on one side of the building and the courts on the other. Marc went through the entryway doors of courtroom 1745 and looked at Margaret Tennant’s clerk, Lois, seated next to the judge’s chair in the otherwise empty courtroom.

  “Hi, Marc. I’ll check with her to see if she’s available,” she said as she picked up the phone to call back to the judge’s chambers.

  “Marc’s here, judge,” he heard her say into the phone as he passed through the gate and approached her. “I don’t know, I’ll ask him.

  “What do you want?” she said with a straight face looking directly at him.

  “Um, to see her?” he sheepishly asked stopping dead in his tracks.

  “To see you,” she said into the phone. “I don’t know, hang on.

  “About what?”

  “Um, ah personal stuff,” he answered trying to figure out what he had done now.

  “Personal stuff,” she said into the phone. “I don’t know, I’ll ask.

  “Did you bring her a gift?”

  “What? Ah…”

  “I can’t keep doing this,” Lois again said into the phone stifling a laugh. “I’ll send him back.”

  As she hung up the phone she told a totally bewildered Marc that Margaret was having a little fun with him and he could go back to her chambers.

  “Very funny,” he said as he closed Margaret’s door and approached her desk. “I’m out there trying to figure out what I did and what kind of trouble I was in.”

  Margaret was laughing as she came around the desk. She greeted him with a strong hug and a big kiss and said, “I couldn’t resist.”

  “You’re in a good mood,” Marc said still holding her.

  “You don’t know the half of it. I swear, if you bent me over the desk right now, I’d howl like a wolf.”

  “Don’t tempt me,” he said. “Why so frisky?”

  “Haven’t you heard? We’re getting rid of that pompous ass, Gordon Prentiss. The man gets more insufferable by the day.”

  “Yeah, I have heard,” he said releasing her and the two of them sat on the couch. “In fact, that’s why I stopped. The entire criminal defense bar is going to be celebrating. What do you suppose Dahlstrom was thinking about?”

  “Who cares?” she said as she stood up, walked to the door and locked it. She turned to Marc, hiked up her skirt, slipped off her shoes, pulled down her pantyhose and panties, went back to the couch and straddled Marc.

  She loosened his tie and began passionately kissing him on his face, mouth and neck as she helped him out of his suit coat.

  “Are you nuts?” he muttered between kisses as she unbuckled his belt, unhooked his pants and pulled down his zipper.

  “Why not,” she mumbled as he helped her pull his pants down.

  Straddling him they made love sitting on her couch in her chambers in mid-afternoon. Less than three minutes into it, she let out an audible gasp, wrapped her arms tightly around his head and held his face between her breasts. She bounced harder and faster and just as she was starting to climax, to enhance her orgasm, he slapped her on her ass, hard, four or five times. Her back arched, she let out a loud squeal and shuddered for a full fifteen seconds while continuing to squeeze his head. For a full minute afterward, she continued to hold him while waiting for her breathing to return to normal.

  Finally, the whole thing having lasted barely five minutes, while he tried to suppress a laugh, she looked down at him and said, “I think I might have blacked out for a moment. God, that’s amazing. Stop laughing,” she chided him while she started laughing herself.

  The two of them continued to giggle as their breathing came back to normal. After another minute or so, she pushed him down and lay on top of him. They stayed this way until they were completely calmed down, her face in his neck and his arms tightly wrapped around her.

  “So, you’re starting to like the ass-slap orgasm,” he whispered.

  “Oh yeah, besides,” she said as she stood up, “I’ve always had a little fantasy thing about doing that in chambers,” she giggled.

  “Glad I could be of service, your Honor,” he said as he pulled up his pants and began to straighten himself out. “Are all of the women around here as happy to be getting rid of Prentiss as you are?”

  “It might be a good time to go see his clerk,” she laughed as she pulled up her underwear.

  “Hey, she’s not a bad looking woman,” Marc said, raising his eyebrows in mock seriousness.

  “I know Rhonda,” Margaret said as she sat down next to Marc, took his arm, put it around herself and snuggled up to him. “Her husband’s a cop. He carries a gun. But to answer your question, we’re all delighted to be getting rid of him and not just the women. And I don’t care why the governor did it, I’m just glad he did.”

  FORTY-SEVEN

  Catherine Prentiss, still in her nightgown and bathrobe, sat at the kitchen table nursing a cup of coffee and a Bloody Mary. Last night had been the third night in a row, every night since her husband’s shocking appointment to the U.S. Senate, that she drank herself to sleep. Catherine was self-medicating with vodka, sleeping pills and anti-depressants. It clearly was not working and she knew it had to stop.

  She vacantly stared out the kitchen window above the table looking out into their spacious backyard. She watched a male Baltimore Oriole, relatively rare to Minnesota, flitting about between the various trees and bushes. Normally the site of such a colorful, beautiful bird would have brought a smile to her but not today. Today, she saw the bird but did not pay much attention to him.

  Catherine sipped the strong black coffee, looked at the clock on the wall which read 9:15 A.M. and realized she had to get moving. She had an appointment with her psychiatrist, Dr. Chase, at eleven and she needed to get ready. Catherine had not been out of the house, in fact, she had hardly left her room, for three days. She finally had a reason to shower, get made up and dressed and most importantly sober up. Catherine finished both the Bloody Mary and coffee, rinsed both the glass and cup, left them in the sink and headed upstairs to get ready.

  An hour later, she came down the stairs, cleaned, made-up and wearing a very becoming belted, light, white summer dress and open-toed, wedge sandals. Having showered, fixed her hair, put on make-up and gotten dressed, she felt remarkably refreshed. So much so that, before she left for her appointment, she called her friend Ava and made a lunch date with her. It also helped that, while in the shower, she had come to a final decision about what she was going to do.

  “Mrs. Prentiss,” she heard the doctor’s receptionist say. “The doctor is ready to see you.”

  Catherine walked down the familiar hallway toward Chase’s office and when she was about halfway there, his door opened and he came out to greet her. He led her into the corner room. She took the patient’s chair opposite his and waited while he read over his case notes he had entered into his computer from her previous sessions. He read the notes for a couple minutes, swiveled his chair away from the screen on his desk to face her, leaned forward and turned on the recorder he had on the table.

  “Are congratulations in order?” he sincerely asked her. “How have you taken the news?”

  “Pretty well actually. I mean, it’s a huge event and I’m quite anxious about it.”

  “How has he been treating you? Has he hit you recently?”

  “No,” she said emphatically shaking her head. “He is still demanding, but he has not been violent lately. It’s just as well. Except, I’m not sure I want
to go to Washington. At least here I have friends. There I’d be pretty much alone.”

  “Did you tell him this? Did you let him know how you feel?”

  “Well, yes,” she said fidgeting slightly in her chair. “I did a little. He doesn’t really care what I want.”

  “Have you considered staying here while he goes to Washington? Then, you might be able to get a divorce.”

  “Since you brought it up, I guess I can tell you. That’s exactly what I’m thinking about doing. But I need some time to figure out the best way to handle it. I’m afraid he won’t like it and I’m worried he might get violent.”

  They spent the rest of her session discussing various ways for her to handle what was sure to be a serious confrontation. Dr. Chase suggested they go out to a public place first. A restaurant or some other venue where there would be other people around whose presence would likely restrain him. Another way would be to have a friend with her. Someone Gordon would not want to act up in front of.

  They also talked about the practical aspects of a divorce, especially financial. Of course, what it came down to was she would have to significantly modify her lifestyle. Catherine claimed to understand this and said she was ready. The doctor also emphasized her need to quit drinking. She lied to him about this and told him she was barely drinking at all, which he didn’t really believe.

  When the session time was up, he walked her to the front desk and waited while she made her next appointment. They had agreed that given the fact that Gordon would be preparing to leave for Washington, she needed to confront him as soon as possible, preferably by the end of the next week. She made the appointment for one week from today, the following Thursday and then she left for her lunch date.

  Chase went back to his office and spent several minutes typing his session notes into her files on his desktop. He made an emphatic note that he believed she was improving, that the decision to get a divorce had strengthened her emotionally and if she stayed in treatment, he could help her through this so she would be able to get her own life back.