Insider Justice: A Financial Thriller (Marc Kadella Legal Mysteries Book 8)

by Dennis Carstens

  By now Maddy and Paxton were laughing hysterically.

  “It will grow back! Calm down,” Maddy assured Marc.

  “Probably,” Carvelli tossed in just to annoy Marc.

  “What are you doing at Justice?” Marc asked Paxton, wanting to change the subject.

  “White collar crimes is about all I can tell you,” she answered.

  “Why are you here? Not that we’re not happy to see you again but you didn’t just happen to be in the neighborhood and dropped by to say hello,” Maddy asked.

  “I can’t tell you why but Marc’s accident or hit and run, whatever you want to call it, came across my desk. I managed to finagle a legitimate business reason to come here for a couple of days. So I wanted to stop and see how he was and say hi to you guys. Especially the Italian Stallion sitting there,” Paxton said with a wink at Maddy.

  “Don’t call him that, there’ll be no living with him,” Maddy said.

  Carvelli looked at Marc and said, “So much for the bald, older-men theory. It’s all about the hair.”

  “It’ll grow back,” Marc said.

  “Probably,” Carvelli teased him again.

  “You seem to be in good spirits,” Paxton said to Marc. “Nothing permanent?”

  “My memory of that day is a problem,” Marc said.

  “Concussion?” Paxton asked.

  “Yeah, but they tell me it could come back,” Marc answered.

  “Any news on the investigation?” Paxton asked looking first at Carvelli then Maddy.

  Maddy looked at Carvelli and asked, “Should we tell her? Show her what we have? She has resources.”

  “And if she misuses them she could end up in jail,” Carvelli said.

  The room went silent while they all pondered the exchange between Maddy and Carvelli. Finally, after more than a minute, Paxton broke the silence.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you this…”

  Carvelli quickly leaned forward and interrupted her by asking “Why did a hit and run in northern Minnesota come across an AUSA’s desk in Chicago?”

  “Okay,” Paxton continued, “I have more than a curious interest in what happened here. For now, that’s all I can tell you, and I have to ask you to keep that confidential. I showed you mine, now show me yours.”

  “You didn’t show us anything,” Carvelli said.

  “Tony! We can trust her,” Maddy said. She looked at Paxton and said, “We can, can’t we?”

  “Not entirely, no. I can look into what you have, but I may or may not be able to offer you anything I might find. I will if I can.”

  “At least she’s being honest,” Marc interjected. “And we’d be no worse off than we are now.”

  Carvelli thought about it for a moment then said, “We think we’ve identified the driver and his accomplice. We have pictures and biographies, don’t ask me how we got them. What we need is a motive and to find these guys. Your office has an interest in this?”

  “Maybe, probably,” Paxton replied. “Get me what you have and I’ll see what I can find out.”

  “Do not bring the FBI into this,” Carvelli said. “At least not yet.”

  “Why? They have enormous resources,” Paxton said.

  “I got a sheriff up North who is on my ass now to stay out of it. He has a small town department with pretty good people but no resources or jurisdiction outside of his county. This is a conspiracy of some kind and it’s outside of the scope of their authority. Only part of this took place in Foster, Minnesota. We’ll show you film of the accident. You’ll see, it was no accident and the two guys we found did not do this on their own,” Tony said.

  “That’s why you need the FBI,” Paxton replied.

  “No,” Tony said emphatically shaking his head. “If they get involved alarm bells will be going off all over the place.”

  “We think it had something to do with Zach Evans’ father-in-law. A guy by the name of Calvin Simpson,” Maddy said.

  When Maddy said Simpson’s name, Carvelli and Marc were both watching Paxton’s expression. But she gave no indication at all that she knew who he was.

  “And he’s rich and has a lot of political clout,” Maddy finished.

  “Okay, I’ll check him out,” Paxton said. She turned to Marc and asked, “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m getting a little tired,” he admitted. “Maybe I should go back and lie down.”

  “I’m glad you’re going to be okay,” Paxton smiled and squeezed his hand again. “The hair will grow back.”

  “I know,” Marc answered her.

  After getting Marc back to his room and into bed, the three of them drove to Carvelli’s South Minneapolis home. When they arrived, Carvelli showed his copy of the investigation documents, including photos of the Tierney brothers, to Paxton. While Paxton paged through the files, Carvelli loaded the DVD of the hit and run into his DVD player.

  The three of them watched the crash twice with Paxton handling the remote. She used it to run the disk in slow motion in places where she wanted a closer look. One, in particular, was the best shot of the driver of the van.

  “You think this is him?” Paxton asked. The image was frozen on the TV, as she held up the mugshot photo of Michael Tierney.

  “Yeah, we think since he made no effort to hide his face from the camera, that must be a disguise,” Maddy replied.

  “My tech guy, who shall remain anonymous…” Carvelli began to say.

  “Because he’s a criminal hacker who should be in prison and you want to protect him,” Paxton interrupted.

  Tony rolled his eyes up at the ceiling and as innocently as possible said, “You have a very suspicious mind. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Uh huh,” Paxton said. “Just remember there’s no such thing as a private investigator slash internet hacker confidentiality privilege.”

  “Then don’t ask me questions I don’t want to answer,” Carvelli told her.

  Paxton laughed, looked at Maddy and asked, “You know his hacker pal?”

  “No, I really don’t,” Maddy replied. “I’ll say this, though. From what Tony has told me and what I have seen, he or she has been extremely helpful to law enforcement.”

  “Including some FBI guys I know,” Carvelli quickly added.

  “Well then, I suppose we’ll leave him alone. Some of these guys do a lot of damage and need some serious prison time.”

  “That’s not his thing,” Carvelli said confirming that the hacker was a man. “He’s a capitalist and makes a lot of money. In fact, he’s helped the feds catch a couple of other hackers. The ones who like to mess with serious stuff just for the fun of it.

  “Anyway,” Carvelli continued, “he put a lot of work into this, running different facial recognition profiles with various looks of the driver. We’re pretty certain he’s the guy.”

  “So am I,” Paxton said. “But for a different reason, which I can’t discuss yet,” she added. “Would it be worthwhile to go to…where is it? Where is the sheriff?”

  “Foster, Minnesota. It’s a nice resort area city and county a couple of hours north of here,” Carvelli said.

  “Should we run up there?” Paxton asked.

  Carvelli looked at Maddy and shrugged his shoulders before saying, “What do you think?”

  “What are you looking for?” Maddy asked Paxton.

  “Whatever they have,” she replied.

  “Why are you interested in this? Is this personal or business?” Carvelli asked.

  “I told you, it came across my desk for a reason I can’t get into yet. We’ll see when and if. Until then, I’m asking you to trust me.”

  “In that case, you should probably call the sheriff in your official capacity. If you show up with us, he’ll blow a gasket. He’ll think we’re messing around with their investigation…”

  “Which we are,” Maddy said.

  “…and he won’t take it well,” Carvelli said.

  “Send a couple of FBI guys up there,”
Maddy said with a knowing grin.

  “Yeah, that will go over big. Just what every small town sheriff wants. The FBI stomping around in his garden,” Paxton sarcastically added. She turned to Tony and said, “I think you’re right. I’ll call from my office when I get back.”

  “You’ll have to go through Sheriff Goode. He’s an okay guy but protective of his turf. The guy you’ll want to talk to is Chris Newkirk. He’s their lead investigator,” Carvelli told her.

  “Can I keep your file?” Paxton asked.

  “Nice try,” Carvelli said. “There’s a Kinkos not too far from here. They can copy the DVD for you, too.”

  “When are you leaving?” Maddy asked.

  “Tomorrow morning. I have a Delta flight at 6:50. I should be in the office by 9:00. I’ve only been here once. I’d like to check out the Mall of America. Do a little shopping.”

  “I’ll take you,” Maddy said. “Carvelli can tag along and buy us lunch.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I want to do today. Go to that monstrosity,” Carvelli said.

  Paxton looked at Maddy and said, “Should we let him off the hook?”

  Maddy looked at Carvelli who looked back with a look on his face that made him appear to be begging.

  “I suppose,” Maddy replied. “But you’re going to Kinkos to get the copies made then take us to dinner.”

  “Deal,” he said with understandable relief.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Paxton O’Rourke reached under the seat in front of her and retrieved her laptop bag. In it was her personal laptop, not the one the government had provided for her. She was on her early morning flight back to Chicago. Paxton had been blessed with a little luck in her seat assignment.

  Deciding that an upgrade to first class for one-hundred-forty-dollars was a bit much for a one-hour flight, she followed the herd into what Paxton referred to as the “cattle car” section, coach. Fortunately, the young woman sitting next to her was a petite little thing who didn’t seem interested in telling Paxton her life story.

  Paxton opened her laptop and placed it on the food tray. She opened a Word document and began typing. She made a complete record of her trip, the one she would keep to herself. The one she would submit to her boss would be a sanitized version. The official report would be truthful, just not entirely truthful.

  Her report to herself took up almost four pages of the Word doc. Paxton had concentrated so intently on the proofreading that she missed the final approach announcement. She was typing a couple of additions when she was slightly shaken by the landing gear descending. Twenty minutes later she was hurrying up the concourse, her laptop bag in her left-hand, her purse over her shoulder, and the carry-on bag with wheels trailing behind.

  While Paxton was making the final approach to O’Hare, Carvelli knocked lightly on Marc’s hospital door. He opened it and peeked in to find Marc’s roommate absent, then held it open for the woman with him.

  “Thank you, Anthony,” Vivian Donahue said as she entered the hospital room.

  Vivian stuck her head around the curtain separating the room to find Marc sitting up along with Maddy and Marc’s daughter, Jessica.

  “Good morning,” Vivian said while Carvelli looked over her shoulder.

  “Hi!” Maddy yelped as she jumped up. The two women embraced while Carvelli pulled back the curtain.

  “Where’s the whiner?” Carvelli asked, referring to Marc’s roommate. “Hi, sweetheart,” Carvelli said to Jessica.

  “He’s in therapy,” Marc said. “And he’s doing a lot better. Not as much pain.” He looked at Vivian and asked, “To what do we owe the honor?”

  “I’ve decided you’re coming home with me,” Vivian announced.

  “Do I get a vote?” Marc asked.

  “No,” Maddy and Vivian said together.

  “I think it’s a great idea,” Jessica chimed in.

  Marc turned his head to her and said, “A minute ago you were all set to move in with me and take care of me.”

  “Well, ah, yeah, but, um, this will be better for you,” Jessica stammered around.

  “I was looking forward to losing some weight trying to eat your cooking,” Marc said.

  “Very funny, Mr. Smartass,” Jessica replied. “I can cook,” she added.

  Marc looked at Carvelli and asked, “What do you have to say about this?”

  “I didn’t get a vote either. My advice? Take her up on it. She’ll spoil the hell out of you. Do it for a couple of weeks. At least until you get your strength back.”

  Marc looked at Maddy and Vivian, both of whom were now seated and said, “I surrender. Besides, you’re probably right.”

  “Nice digs,” Maddy said referring to the Corwin Family Mansion on Lake Minnetonka.

  “Are you sure you want a criminal defense lawyer living in your house? What will the neighbors think? I mean, a corporate lawyer or even an insurance defense lawyer would be almost okay. But a criminal lawyer? Scandalous,” Carvelli said to Vivian.

  “I lie awake nights worrying about what the neighbors think,” Vivian sarcastically replied. “Besides, a little scandal might be fun.”

  “What are we waiting for?” Carvelli asked.

  “The doctor to check me out,” Marc replied.

  They waited for the doctor and made desultory small talk until Maddy mentioned how nice it had been to see Paxton O’Rourke again.

  “Yeah, it was,” Marc eagerly agreed.

  Maddy tilted her head at him and with a sly smirk and raised eyebrows said, “She’s kind of hot for you, you know.”

  “Stop it,” Marc laughed.

  “Who is Paxton?” Jessica asked in a teasing manner. “Come on, Dad, let’s have it.”

  “Maddy’s just being cute,” Marc said.

  “She’s a lawyer with the government,” Maddy told Jessica. “She prosecuted Samir Kamel, and I am not kidding. I could see it in Washington.”

  “Stop it,” Marc said again while they all watched him with amusement. “Seriously? You think so?”

  “Can’t you tell?” Maddy asked.

  “No,” Marc said.

  “No,” Carvelli agreed when Maddy looked at him.

  “Men are so simple-minded,” Vivian told Maddy. She looked at Jessica and added, “Remember that, dear. We almost have to hit them over the head just to get their attention.”

  “I’ve noticed,” Jessica said.

  “What?” Marc said looking at his daughter. “What have I told you about boys? They’re stupid, smell-bad and most of them are barely toilet trained. Stay away from them until you’re forty.”

  Maddy said again, “You really didn’t notice? What do you need, a billboard?”

  “That would be helpful,” Marc said. “Look, there are basically three kinds of men. Those that think every woman is after them. Those that couldn’t score in a cat house with a fistful of fifty-dollar bills…”

  “Dad!”

  “…and those that don’t have the slightest idea what’s going on with women. Which is about ninety-nine percent of us.”

  Vivian looked at Carvelli, with whom she had a “friends with benefits” type relationship. “Anthony?”

  “Ah, yeah, I think that’s pretty accurate,” he agreed.

  The room went silent for a moment then Maddy said to Marc, “Well, now you know. Paxton is interested.”

  Marc looked at his left arm in a cast and a sling, his right hip and leg immobilized and said, “Fine, time to find out.”

  “Chris Newkirk,” Paxton O’Rourke heard the man say through her office phone.

  It was 8:50 A.M. and Paxton had arrived at the office fifteen minutes ago. Waiting for her was a message on her phone and in her email. Both were from Kamar Haddad, the executive assistant of Paxton’s boss. Both messages were the same. Paxton was to report to the boss and both were marked urgent. Paxton decided to ignore them for the time being. She wasn’t ready for what she knew was coming.

  Paxton identified herself to Newkirk. She then asked
him if he would please give her as much information as possible about the homicides of Lynn McDaniel and Zachary Evans.

  “How do I know you’re who you say you are?” Newkirk asked.

  “Well, I guess you could go online, find the number for the Chicago U.S. Attorney’s office, call back and ask for me,” Paxton replied.

  There was silence for a moment between them then Newkirk said, “Okay, I guess I’ll leave it at that. What I don’t understand is why a U.S. Attorney in Chicago cares about a case in upstate Minnesota.”

  “I knew you’d ask that and about all I can tell you is it might be peripheral to a case I’m pursuing. I can’t go into detail right now,” Paxton said.

  Again there was a pregnant pause until Newkirk said, “Okay, here’s what we have.”

  A few minutes later he finished and Paxton asked, “That’s it?”

  “Afraid so,” Newkirk replied. In his years with the Duluth PD, he had dealt with the Feds, FBI and U.S. Attorneys many times. Newkirk knew what to give them and what not to.

  “So, you think the hit and run was not an accident? That it was intentional?”

  “Yes, that seems pretty clear,” Newkirk replied.

  “It was made to look like an accident?” Paxton asked.

  “I guess so, but he did a poor job of it,” Newkirk said. “What more do you have?”

  “Nothing. I have less than you. But if I come across anything, I’ll let you know right away.”

  “I appreciate that, Ms. O’Rourke,” Newkirk said while at the same time thinking, bullshit.

  “Could I get a copy of the file?” Paxton asked.

  “I’ll have to check with my boss but I think that will be okay. Give me an email address.”

  Three minutes before 9:00 Paxton rapped on the opaque glass door with her boss’ name embossed in gold on it. She waited for a response and when she heard it, opened the door. Norah McCabe, the U.S. Attorney, had her phone to her ear and motioned to Paxton to take a seat,

  “I’ll keep that in mind, Senator,” McCabe said to her caller. She listened for a moment then said, “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” and ended the call.