“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” Peterson said as they shook hands.
“Let’s talk in your office,” Carvelli said. Carvelli looked at the uncertain receptionist and said, “Hold the congressman’s calls. He’ll be busy for a while.”
The door was barely closed behind them when Peterson turned to Carvelli and tried to take control.
“Who are you and what do you want?” he arrogantly asked as he heavily plopped down in his executive chair.
Carvelli, feeling a little sleazy, removed a half dozen still photos he brought along of Peterson in Angela’s bedroom.
Peterson looked them over, then haughtily flicked his left hand over them, then said, “They don’t even look like me. At best, that’s a cheap double. Get the fuck out of here.”
“You idiot,” Carvelli said after sitting down in front of the desk. “I’m not trying to blackmail you. I’m here to keep you from spending the rest of your sorry life in prison. This,” Carvelli continued, pointing at the photos, “is nothing. The girl works for us. We filmed with sound, the whole thing. This was just to get your attention.”
Carvelli paused a moment to let that sink in. He stared at Peterson and noticed the arrogance was gone and there was fear in his eyes.
“Prison. I don’t know what…” he tried to say.
“Be quiet, dummy,” Carvelli said. “We know it all. Your relationship with Cal Simpson, the stock manipulation and insider trading. And, the conspiracy to commit murder.”
“Murder! What the hell are you talking about?” Peterson almost shrieked but managed to keep his voice down. “Who, who are you and…?”
“I’m your new best friend,” Carvelli said. “Here’s what we’re going to do. One, I’m going to set up a meeting with you and an assistant U.S. Attorney. Two, you will keep your mouth shut and not call a lawyer until I say so. You call a lawyer, we drop a net on you and Cal and the others…”
“I want to see your badge. Are you law enforcement?”
“No, I’m a private investigator. But we have recordings of phone calls between Cal Simpson, you and several others. How do you think we got your name and found out about this?”
“That sounds illegal,” Peterson sounding a little less nervous.
“It is illegal,” Carvelli admitted. “So, what? You think you’d survive the scandal? Tell me now and we’ll release everything we know about you. Actually, it might not be totally illegal since we are not acting on behalf of the police or any other law enforcement entity. It would still destroy your life.
“Del, can I call you Del? We both know you’re not that strong. You’re not that tough. You simply don’t have the balls to fight something like this. Besides, you did what you did and you got caught. Be a man and do what you can to get out of it.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with any murders,” Peterson said almost pleading.
“Doesn’t matter. That’s the beauty of a conspiracy charge. Even if you didn’t know anything about it, if a murder is committed in furtherance of the conspiracy, all the assholes in the conspiracy are guilty. You’re a lawyer. You should know this.”
“Oh, god. Oh, shit. What the hell…” Peterson whined. “What do you want?”
“First, I am going to introduce you to some friends of mine, people who are now friends of yours. We’re going to put you up in a motel tonight…”
“I’m not doing anything without a lawyer…” Peterson started to say.
“Yes, you are. You want to bring in a lawyer, we will simply turn over everything we have to the FBI and you can take your chances. Otherwise, we will help you. Your choice. What’s it going to be?”
“All right,” Peterson whined some more.
“Tomorrow you will meet with a legitimate U.S. Attorney who will outline your deal for immunity in exchange for your cooperation. We will then take a taped deposition from you and you will spill it all.”
“I thought you knew everything,” Peterson said.
“There are always holes that need to be filled in. Let’s go,” Carvelli said again.
“Wait, what am I going to tell my wife?”
“Give me a break,” Carvelli laughed. “You can’t think of a lie to tell the unfortunate Mrs. Peterson? By now you must be a master of it. Get your coat on. We’re leaving.”
THIRTY-FOUR
Marc was at his desk ploughing through the backlog still stacked up around him. His injuries were healing much more quickly than he had any right to expect. Gradually his memory of the events of that day was coming back. Some of it put him into a mild depression.
On the whole, Zach Evans had been a good guy and a better friend. He could be a bit of a knucklehead at times, especially when it came to women. But he did not deserve to be murdered. And Marc was convinced his father-in-law and possibly his wife had done it.
Marc was about half-way through the pile when the intercom on his phone buzzed. He was expecting a client with a check and hoped this was the call.
“Hey,” he answered.
“Could you come in here for a minute please?” he heard Connie Michelson ask. “Bring a chair in.”
“Sure,” Marc replied.
Marc entered Connie’s office, closed the door behind him and found an elderly couple seated in front of Connie’s’ desk. Connie introduced them as Benjamin and Sadie Halperin, a couple she knew from her synagogue.
“The Halperin’s have been involved with an investment group. People they know who pooled their money to invest…”
“To get a higher return with lower fees,” Benjamin interjected.
“Okay,” Marc said.
“Mostly people from the synagogue. Not wealthy people but not poor people either,” Connie continued. “Twenty-six total.” Connie looked at the Halperins and asked, “All married couples?”
“Yes,” Sadie replied.
“This group used a nephew…”
“Amoretz,” Benjamin sneered.
“…of one of the men,” Connie continued. She looked at her notes and read his name. “Eli Meier. He’s a broker with a small firm in downtown Minneapolis.”
“What did you call him?” Marc asked looking at Benjamin. “Amoretz,” he said poorly.
“A knucklehead. An idiot,” Benjamin said. “He was supposed to put our money in safe, low-risk things such as Triple A-Bonds, municipal bonds, things like that. Instead,” he continued, his voice rising, “this schlemiel puts us in stocks, and we lose a fortune!”
“Benjamin,” Sadie said placing a hand on his arm, “your blood pressure. Calm down. Connie will help us.”
“And now this, this Eli, this putz, won’t return our calls,” Benjamin said.
“Cannon Brothers,” Connie said to Marc.
“Oh, boy,” Marc replied. “How much?”
“Three point two million,” Connie said.
“And we do what about this?” Marc asked Connie.
“Have you ever been involved in a class action?” Connie asked.
Marc shrugged and said, “I had a couple of clients I referred to Spears, Kurtz about fifteen years ago. Tobacco litigation. That’s it. They didn’t make out very well. The lawyers and the state got most of the money.
“We could sue this guy’s firm. They must have errors and omissions insurance,” Marc said.
“Yes, sue them,” Benjamin excitedly said. “Make them pay us our money back!”
Connie removed a form from a desk drawer and silently filled in the blanks. When she finished it, she showed it to Marc. He read it over, raised his eyebrows at Connie but said nothing as he handed it to Benjamin.
“Read it, please,” Connie said.
Benjamin finished reading it and asked, “Where do I sign?”
“I want to make copies. You get as many of your friends involved in this as you can to sign one also. Then bring them in. I need you to bring me any paperwork you have from this firm about your accounts and your dealings with them,” she added.
“I will make
sure he gets them for you,” Sadie answered.
The Halperins agreed to meet with their investment group and get them all to sign the retainer Connie had given them. Connie and Marc escorted them to the door and adjourned to her office.
“What the hell are we doing?” Marc asked. “I don’t know anything about a stockbroker’s liability. Do you?”
Connie opened the window behind her desk and lit a cigarette. She took a long drag, blew the smoke outside then said, “Nope, not a thing. But if he was instructed by this group to put their money into low-risk investments and he didn’t, that’s at least negligence. We may be able to drag Cal Simpson and his pals into it, too.”
Marc sat silently for a minute while Connie worked on her cigarette.
“You know,” he finally began, “we may be able to get it started, sign up a shitload of angry investors then ship the whole thing to Spears, Kurtz and let them do the heavy lifting.”
“That’s an option,” Connie agreed.
“Why do I feel like I’m already over my head?” Marc asked.
“Because you are,” Connie said.
“The first thing we need to do is find out who is with Cal Simpson. Then drop the suit on them, go immediately into court. Federal.” Marc began.
“Slow down, big boy,” Connie said. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“…then ask that their assets be frozen. If we get Paxton and the feds involved, that would help get the judge to do it.” Marc finished ignoring her.
“Maybe,” Connie almost agreed. “We’ll see.”
“Wait a minute,” Marc said. “How are you going to front expenses for this? I don’t have that kind of money.”
“I can, at least for a while. But I’m not going to let it bankrupt me, either,” Connie replied as she tossed her cigarette butt out the window then closed it.
“Let’s keep our eye on the ball,” Connie continued. “So far we have two clients. It’s their money we’re trying to recover.”
“We should bring in Barry and Chris. Chris probably knows more about the liability end of this than we do,” Marc said referring to the other two lawyers in the firm. Chris was a business/corporate lawyer. Barry, another litigator.
“Good idea. I’ll talk to them,” Connie said.
Two hours later, having worked through lunch, the pile in Marc’s office was almost under control. He was reviewing a divorce agreement for a client when his intercom buzzed.
“Hey,” he said.
“Tony’s on the phone,” Carolyn told him. Without waiting for a response, she put him through.
“I heard from my guy about the names Eric came up with. The people and entities who sold short Cannon Brothers stock.”
“What did he find?” Marc asked, holding back the excitement he felt.
“Nothing,” Carvelli started to say.
“What?”
“You didn’t let me finish. He checked everywhere for every name he had on the list. He found no connection to Cal or any of the people we suspect are in on this little scam,” Carvelli said. “This morning he had an idea. He expanded his search to include distant relatives, employees, and things like that.
“The first name he widened his search for was Natalie Aldrich. They’re in alphabetical order.”
“I know,” Marc impatiently said.
“Guess what he found?”
“Tony!”
“Okay. Well among other things, he found two busts for solicitation.”
“She’s a hooker?”
“Apparently was. I don’t think she needs the money anymore. Her current job is as Mrs. Calvin Simpson.”
“What! Are you kidding me? Is he sure? What?”
“Yeah, he’s sure. He has a copy of the marriage certificate. And her birth certificate. Remember Maddy said Cal told her the little missus was visiting her sister? He even told Maddy the sister’s name, Gayle.”
“Yeah,” Marc replied.
“She has a sister in Delaware named Gayle. She’s the correct age, too. And Gayle’s parents are the same names as Natalie’s. It’s her.”
“I wonder if she knows he’s using her maiden name. Using her as a cutout,” Marc said.
“I doubt it. Too much money involved. Anyway,” Carvelli continued, “my guy is…”
“Will you give this guy a name? Stop calling him ‘my guy’,” Marc said.
“Okay, Paul is going to keep at it. It’s slow going but he’s silly-smart, so I believe he’ll crack more names. It’ll just take some time.
“Paxton’s in town. We’re going to take the statement from our new friend,” Carvelli said avoiding using Peterson’s name.
“When?”
“We’re setting up now. If you want to attend, we’ll wait.”
“Yeah,” Marc said after thinking it over for a moment. “I need to get out of here. I was waiting for a client to bring a check in but Carolyn can take care of it. Give me fifteen minutes.”
“Okay.”
THIRTY-FIVE
Before Marc could get his coat on and leave his office, he received another phone call. His office door was open and rather than use the intercom, Carolyn simply yelled through the door.
“Hey, Paxton’s on line two for you,” Marc heard her yell.
Marc was standing in his doorway and said, “What does she want? Tell her I’m on my way.”
Carolyn passed that along then told Marc, “She says it’s important. She needs to talk to you before you leave.”
Marc shrugged and said, “Okay,” then closed the door and sat down again.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“I’ve been thinking,” Paxton replied. “Are we going to have a ‘fruit of the poisonous tree’ problem here? Will we be able to use the information we get from this guy in court?”
Marc thought about what she had said for so long Paxton began to wonder if he was still on the phone. “You still there?” she asked.
“Yeah. I think if we get him to sign a waiver and repeat it into the camera, we should be okay. It’s gotta be tight, though; that he freely came forward. No threats or coercion and no promises made. His conscience was bothering him and he, well, just gave it up.”
“And waived an attorney,” Paxton added. “Hey, you could act as his attorney.”
“I have a rather obvious conflict,” Marc drolly replied.
“So, it would cover my ass,” Paxton laughed.
“We could just say Tony was legitimately investigating my accident. He got an opportunity to interview this guy and he spilled his guts. When Tony mentioned conspiracy and murder…”
“He folded,” Paxton added. “Okay. That’s our story and we’re gonna stick with it. Wait a minute, how did I get involved?”
“I called you because you’re a fed and he was blabbing about stock manipulation which is a federal crime. I knew you from Sammy Kamel’s trial and…”
“This is getting a little thin,” Paxton said.
“And we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Most of this stuff we can deal with if and when the time comes,” Marc told her.
“Is this how defense lawyers practice? Fly by the seat of your pants and just make up bullshit as you go along?”
“Pretty much,” Marc admitted. “I’ll see you in a little while.”
“Before we get started, I want you to look this over and sign it,” Paxton told Congressman Peterson.
Along with Paxton and Peterson, Marc, Carvelli, and Dan Sorenson were sitting around in the hotel room. Conrad Hilton was behind a video camera set on a tripod. Conrad would handle the recording.
“I don’t think I want to sign this,” the congressman said when he finished reading the waiver.
“Okay,” Carvelli quickly replied. “Suit yourself. Let’s go, everybody; he’d rather take his chances.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” a panicky Peterson said. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t sign. What about my immunity deal?”
“Here it is,” Paxton said from her chair n
ext to the camera. “You will tell us everything you know. Names, dates, places concerning the conspiracy to manipulate the stocks of Cannon Brothers Toys and any other company you know of. We, the federal government, are going to bust Cal Simpson and everyone involved. We know what he’s been up to and we’re going to get him.”
When she used the name Cannon Brothers, Del Peterson realized she was not bluffing. None of these people had used that name with him before. Now, he knew for sure they had the information they needed.
“And we’re going to tie the murders of Lynn McDaniel and Zachary Evans…”
“I don’t know anything about that!”
“…to the conspiracy. We, the federal government, still have the death penalty. It doesn’t matter if you knew or not. Everyone involved in the conspiracy goes down. Got it?”
“Yeah,” Peterson muttered.
“What? I didn’t hear you,” Paxton seriously said.
“Yes, I got it,” he said.
“I personally guarantee you will get a walk…” Paxton began.
“And maybe save your political career,” Carvelli added knowing it was a lie.
“If you are totally candid,” Paxton continued. “You leave anything out or lie about anything, the deal is off. Do you understand?”
“I want that in writing,” he meekly said. “And why can’t I have a lawyer look it over.”
“Because you’ve agreed to waive your right to an attorney,” Carvelli told him.
“You’ll get it in writing after we tape your deposition. If I’m satisfied, I’ll put your deal in writing.”
Peterson looked at Marc and said, “I recognize you. You’re a lawyer. Why can’t you represent me?”
“I have a conflict,” Marc tersely answered him.
“Sign,” Paxton said pointing at the waiver in front of Peterson. He was seated at a small table, picked up a pen and scratched his signature on it.
“We’ll take a break then get started,” Paxton said. “There’s water, soda, coffee,” she added pointing at a credenza across the room. “No alcohol. We’ll bring in food later. Use the bathroom if you need to.”
Insider Justice: A Financial Thriller (Marc Kadella Legal Mysteries Book 8) Page 22