The Heavens May Fall

by Allen Eskens

  Niki’s cheeks reddened as she slunk back into her chair.

  Max stood and leaned onto the table. “Dovey? Listen to me very carefully,” he said, narrowing his eyes on the red-faced prosecutor. “This is Detective Niki Vang, one of the best minds on the force. She’s my partner, and she’s my friend. Although you may have never heard of her before this case, you have heard of me. And if you’ve heard of me, then you know that I’m a very serious man who is not one to suffer assholes lightly. I still have enough clout around this city to muck up the plans of a political hack like you. So if you ever treat Detective Vang with that kind of disrespect again—”

  “Now wait a second, Detective,” Dovey sputtered. “I meant no disrespect. I was merely pointing out that we each have our jobs to do. My job is to—”

  “Right now, your job is to apologize to Detective Vang.”

  “You know I didn’t mean to—”

  “Not me,” Max said. “Talk to her.”

  A deep-red blush flashed across Dovey’s fat, pale cheeks, and he began to blink in quick beats, as though Max’s words had dried the man’s pupils. For a few seconds, a thick, gray silence filled the room. Then, after the blinking stopped, after Dovey regained control of his breathing, he turned to Niki and spoke in a tone so removed from his normal voice that it almost held a British accent.

  “I apologize,” he said.

  When he turned back to Max, Dovey had once again found his smugness. “Happy, Detective?”

  Max looked at Niki and jerked his head toward the door. Niki rose and followed Max out of the conference room.

  Chapter 24

  Boady sat down at the dinner table, about to dine on the meal of broiled walleye, potato slices, and asparagus, when the phone rang. He thought about not answering it, assuming it would be the cable company calling to get him to upgrade to a more expensive package, or maybe some bogus charity with the word cancer or diabetes or firefighter in the name looking for a donation. But then he remembered that he had a client again, and he answered the phone on the off chance that it might be Ben Pruitt. It was.

  He asked if Boady might be around for a bit and could Ben drop by? Of course. But then Ben asked if Diana would also be at home. Boady didn’t know why that would matter. He answered yes, and to his surprise, Ben sounded relieved.

  By the time Ben arrived, Boady and Diana had finished supper and the dishes. Boady had moved to the front porch, where a cool summer rain gave somber weight to the evening. When Ben arrived, he stepped out of his car and opened the back door for Emma. He picked her up so that they could share his umbrella as he carried her to the porch. Emma curled her face into her father’s chest, her eyes staring at nothing beyond the colors of the world that moved past her father’s shoulder.

  Boady stood as Ben ascended the steps. Ben put Emma down, held out a piece of paper, and said, “It’s starting.”

  “Would you like to talk in my office?” Boady opened the door for his guests.

  “I think that’d be best,” Ben said. “Any chance Diana could sit with Emma for a bit?”

  “I’m sure Diana would be happy for the company.” Boady could hear Diana still in the kitchen and called her to come to the front room.

  When she walked in, Diana leaned down and in her most comforting voice said, “I’m so happy to see you again. Last time I saw you, you were just a tiny thing. My goodness, did you grow up pretty.”

  Ben gave a slight bow to Emma. “Mr. Sanden and I have some things to discuss. I won’t be long. I promise.” The men walked to Boady’s study. Once in the study, with the door closed, Ben handed the paper to Boady to read.

  “A subpoena?” Boady read some more, then looked up.

  “They served me this morning. They convened a grand jury, they want me to testify.”

  “Don’t worry,” Boady said, “I’ll have this quashed before lunch tomorrow.” Boady sat in a leather chair behind his desk and motioned for Ben to have a seat opposite him.

  “Let’s not be too quick here,” Ben said. “Let’s consider it.”

  “Are you out of your mind? Ben, if you were advising any other client, would you let them testify before a grand jury where they are being accused of murder?”

  “But I’m not just any client, Boady. I know what they’re looking for. I know the traps. If I go there, I can tell them what really happened, at least as far as my involvement is concerned.”

  Boady smiled at Ben and waited.

  “I know it’s a bad idea, but I didn’t kill Jennavieve. I was in Chicago. They need to know that.”

  “Did you tell that to Max Rupert when he interviewed you?”

  Ben nodded.

  “Then the grand jury will hear your alibi. I’m sure that Rupert has done the math. He’ll see the same hole that we did. So tell me, how will your testimony change anything?”

  Ben nodded again and didn’t respond.

  “Ben, I understand that impulse that makes you want to go there and look them in the eyes and tell them that you didn’t kill your wife, but you know better. If the prosecutor wants you indicted, you’ll be indicted. If I were the client and you the attorney here, what would you tell me?”

  Ben smiled a wary smile. “I’d tell you that only a damn fool would go testify. I’d tell you to start getting ready for the shit storm that’s on its way. Get your affairs in order and get ready to defend yourself in court.”

  “That sounds like sage advice.”

  Ben reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out another piece of paper. “Along those lines, then . . .” He handed the paper to Boady, who read the title on the first page Custody Agreement and looked up at Ben. Ben said nothing and Boady continued to read the document drafted by Ben that would transfer custody of Emma to Boady and Diana Sanden should he become incarcerated.

  “I don’t understand,” Boady said.

  “If they indict me, they’ll arrest me. I have to imagine my bail’s going to be in the millions of dollars. Depending on the amount, I might be held in custody until after a trial. I’m truly hoping that’s not the case, but this is me getting my affairs in order.”

  “But what about a family member. Doesn’t Jennavieve have a sister?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m trying to avoid. Jennavieve’s sister hates me. Has for years. If she gets her hands on Emma, she’ll poison my little girl against me. She’ll have Emma convinced that I killed her mother, and then it won’t matter what the jury says. I’ll always have that cloud over my head. I can’t have that.”

  Boady laid the paper on the desk and eased back in his chair. “Are you sure about this?”

  “I’ve never been surer of anything. I can’t imagine what the prosecutor has, or thinks he has, to convene a grand jury, but I’m preparing for the worst. If it comes to it, I can handle getting thrown in jail. I can even live with the prospect of not getting out until I’m acquitted.”

  The corners of Ben’s eyes took on a shine as the tears began to well up. “But the thought of Emma in the hands of my witch of a sister-in-law, that’s something I can’t abide. I need you and Diana to protect her. Please tell me you’ll do it. Please.”

  “I have to talk it over with Diana, but, yeah, I’ll agree to it.”

  Ben leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands. He kept his face hidden as he worked to settle his breath. “Thank you,” he whispered in a voice so soft that it barely took flight. “Thank you.”

  Chapter 25

  Everett Kagen lived in a modest, blue Cape Cod on a corner lot across the street from a park—the kind of quiet neighborhood that has little experience with homicide detectives or murder investigations. The house struck Max as being less than he expected. It was clean and comfortable and gingerbread in every way, but Max expected more considering this was the house of the attorney for the Adler Wetland Preservation Foundation.

  Max and Niki approached, pausing at the door to hear the banter of at least two children, girls, preteen, going back a
nd forth about the relative merits of toenail polish. Max knocked.

  A woman in her late thirties, and more than a bit on the heavy side, opened the door. She had the kind of face that had probably been attractive when she was younger but had been dulled by time, and stress, and too much daytime television. She smiled a Stepford smile when she saw her visitors, a smile that disappeared when she saw the badges.

  Niki took the lead. “We’re here to see Everett Kagen. Is he home?”

  The woman glanced over her shoulder and then nodded at the detectives. “He’s downstairs. I’ll get him.” She turned, leaving the door open, a gesture that Max and Niki took as an invitation to enter, which they did. The two girls had stopped their jabbering and came to the dining room to observe the visitors. They pretended to be interested in the woodgrain of the table but kept glancing at the detectives in the front entry.

  From somewhere in the belly of the house, Max could hear the woman’s voice sputtering in short, angry bursts. A male voice, too muffled to understand, sputtered back. Soon the rumble of the couple climbing the stairs replaced the bickering. Everett, a man with rugged features, a cowboy washed clean of dust, approached them with a joyless half-smile.

  “Mr. Kagen, I’m Detective Niki Vang and this is my partner, Max Rupert. Could we have a word with you? It’s about the death of Jennavieve Pruitt.”

  “Of course.” Kagen looked over his shoulder at the two girls, then said, “Maybe we could go for a walk in the park and talk?”

  Niki looked at Max and then nodded to Kagen.

  As they walked down the sidewalk to the street, Kagen spoke first. “I figured you’d be by sooner or later.”

  “When did you last see her?” Niki asked.

  Kagen headed toward a bleacher at the edge of a soccer field.

  “We were at the office all day, the day she died. We’re starting a new case.”

  Kagen took a seat on the bottom bench. Max and Niki flanked him. He began to massage his thighs with his hands, as though wiping sweat from his palms. “We worked until . . . oh, it had to be maybe eleven o’clock at night before we quit.”

  “Were you and Mrs. Pruitt often in the habit of working late at the office?” Niki asked.

  Kagen sat up and turned to her. “I don’t like what you’re insinuating. I’m a happily married man. Jennavieve and I were business associates. That’s all.”

  “I’m not insinuating a thing, Mr. Kagen,” Niki said. “You said that you worked late on the night Mrs. Pruitt was murdered. I merely asked if that was a regular occurrence.”

  Kagen went back to squeezing his thighs. “I’m sorry,” he said. “This whole thing’s crazy. Jennavieve was one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. The thought that someone might kill her . . . it makes no sense.”

  “So, you left the office at the same time?”

  “Huh? Oh, yeah. Like I said, we worked until about eleven and called it a night. I walked her to her car—just because I’d hate for her to get mugged or something. Then I went to my car and came home. I got home sometime between 11:30 and 11:45.”

  “How did Mrs. Pruitt seem when you parted? Did she seem worried about anything?”

  “No.”

  “Ever mention any concerns or fears—anyone that may have wanted to hurt her?”

  “No, I mean, nothing beyond the normal.”

  “Normal?”

  “We are a foundation set up for one purpose. We stop developers from draining wetlands for commercial purposes. We spend our time, our energy, our full resources bringing lawsuits. This, of course, makes some people angry.”

  “So you stopped people from building on their own land?” Max asked.

  Kagen now turned to face Max, addressing him for the first time since they met. “That land is vital to the future of this state and this planet. It’s the home of hundreds, maybe thousands of species of wildlife. People love living in this state because everywhere you go, you’re surrounded by nature. Even in Minneapolis there’s wildlife all around you if you just stop and look. That doesn’t happen by accident. We need those wetlands to stay natural. Someone has to fight for that, and that’s what we are doing.”

  “Slow down there, Mr. Kagen,” Max said, holding his palms up. “I’m not attacking your cause. Just gathering information. How many people work at the Adler Wetland Preservation Foundation?”

  Kagen gave a wry smile. “It sounds bigger than it really is . . . or, was. It’s just the two of us. Jennavieve is the driving force and the primary financial backer. She raised awareness. She managed our web presence and social media, and she set up the fundraisers. I did the legal work. If I needed help, we brought in temps. There’s been a glut of new attorneys on the market for years now. If I need a motion drafted or some research done, I can just contract it out. It keeps overhead low.”

  “I assume you’ve met Mr. Pruitt?” Niki said.

  Kagen’s face went slack and he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his fingers lacing together into a church steeple. “Yeah, I know Ben.”

  Niki waited for Kagen to elaborate, but the man went silent. Then she asked, “How did Jennavieve Pruitt feel about Ben Pruitt?”

  Kagen continued to stare out into the distance, where four kids were kicking a soccer ball around. Then he said, “She was going to divorce him.”

  Both detectives perked up. “Are you sure?” Niki asked.

  “I’m sure. You don’t work with someone as closely as we did and not get to know them personally. She was unhappy in her marriage. She didn’t love him anymore, but she stayed with him because of Emma. I tried to get her to . . . I could see how miserable she was. She deserved better. Then about a month ago, she asked me if I’d ever done a divorce. I told her I had, but not in years. I told her that she needed to get an attorney who does nothing but family law. She needed the best, especially given her . . . well you know, her family money.”

  “Did she talk to an attorney?”

  “I don’t know. I think she was working up the courage to do it. Emma was her life. There was no way that divorce would be a smooth one.”

  “So you don’t have the name of any attorney she might have contacted?”

  “No. Sorry.”

  Niki looked at Max and nodded a signal that she was out of questions for the moment. Max nodded back. Niki said, “I’m going to go have a chat with your wife—just need to confirm what time you got home that night.”

  Kagen’s eyes darted back and forth between the detectives. “Is that necessary?”

  Max cocked his head and gave Kagen a what the hell? look. How could a man with a law degree ask such a stupid question? “You were with Mrs. Pruitt the night she was murdered. You say you were home at 11:30. That’s important. How would it look if we didn’t even confirm that information with your wife?”

  Kagen nodded his understanding.

  All three stood and Niki headed across the street to where Mrs. Kagen watched from the front door, arms folded across her chest.

  “We’re not here to cause problems,” Max said, “but we’re looking into everything, so if you have any more information, now’s the time to open up.”

  “I can’t think of a thing. Believe me, I want to do everything I can to help. Jennavieve was . . .” Kagen looked like he might break into tears. He didn’t complete his thought. “If there’s anything I can do, anything at all, please don’t hesitate.”

  “Now that you mention it,” Max said. “If you don’t mind, we’d like to have you come down and give fingerprints and DNA. Just a routine thing in a case like this. We may need to exclude you.”

  Kagen’s breath caught in his throat, and he looked back and forth between Max and his wife, now talking to Detective Vang. “You’ll find my fingerprints at Jennavieve’s house. I’ve been there on a number of occasions.”

  There was more to this. Max could tell. Kagen was leaving something out—something that tangled the man’s fingers and kept pulling his gaze to the missus.

&nbs
p; “I take it your wife wasn’t invited on those occasions?” Max asked, giving a nod toward Kagen’s house.

  “Okay, Detective, here’s the thing. Sometimes Jennavieve and I would work at her house. She preferred it to working at the office. It was just more comfortable. But it was strictly work, and we only did it now and then.”

  “And your wife was okay with you working at the Pruitts’ home?” Max asked.

  Kagen looked at a dandelion beside his toe. “My wife was never a big fan of that idea. We had more than a few fights about it. Just between us, I didn’t always tell her when we worked from Jennavieve’s house. Like it or not, Jennavieve Pruitt paid our bills. She was my sole source of income. If she wanted to work at home a day or two out of the month, I wasn’t going to argue. And it was just easier to leave that information out of our family dinner discussions.”

  “So, you’ll come down and give us the fingerprints and DNA?”

  Kagen looked at his house, at his wife whose life seemed to emulate the fabricated normalcy of a television commercial. Kagen smiled for her benefit and gave a little wave. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I’m going to decline that offer.”

  Chapter 26

  Getting Ben’s grand jury subpoena quashed had been a simple matter. The Court could only order Ben to testify if the State agreed to grant immunity, which Dovey wasn’t about to do. The subpoena had been served as a matter of policy, but neither side believed that Ben Pruitt would actually give testimony.

  With that behind him, Boady began the process of turning his home into a law office, cleaning out a bedroom on the second floor for Lila, and stocking it with the bare necessities: a desk, a couple chairs, a laptop computer, a copier/fax machine, and a drawer full of paper and pens.

  Boady invited Lila over to check out the setup. “I want you to make yourself at home,” he said, tossing her a key to the house. “Come and go as you like. If you need anything, just ask. You get hungry, my kitchen is your kitchen.”