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

by Dennis Carstens

  “What do you think? I’m getting screwed, aren’t I?”

  “No, Kelly. You’re not getting screwed,” Marc told her again. You are going to get physical custody…”

  “Yeah but that sonofabitch is going to get visitation. My kids shouldn’t have to be around that tramp he’s sleeping with,” she almost yelled.

  “Kelly,” Marc softly, “they are not your kids,” he said making air quotes when he said your kids. “You don’t own them. They are children, not property. He is their father.”

  “Yeah, but…” she started to say.

  Taking her father’s advice about being tough with her, Marc leaned forward and with a stern look, interrupted her by saying, “Stop it! Here we go again. You leave your husband for a twenty-three-year-old golf instructor with whom you have been having an affair for over a year; a fact you threw in Sam’s face. After six months, you realize the kid is a twenty-three-year-old golf instructor. You come to your senses and tell him, what was his name?”

  “Chip,” Kelly said trying not to smile.

  “Of course,” Marc snidely said.

  “Chip, what else would you name a twenty-three-year-old golf pro. You leave Chippy and decide you want to reconcile with Sam. He now has a new girlfriend and…”

  “Don’t call her that,” Kelly said.

  “That’s what she is and I’m sorry, but I’ve met her, and she seems like a nice person. Anyway, Sam has met someone else and is no longer interested.

  “You then accuse him of molesting the girls. Sam and the girls get dragged into that swamp until you finally admit you lied. You should be thankful Sam is grownup enough to admit you’re a good mother…”

  “I am.”

  “…and knows the girls need you or you could have lost custody completely. Now, put a stop to this constant whining about Sam and Barbara. You’re getting custody, child support and an even split of the assets. I’ll help you through this.”

  Kelly sat silently staring at the top of Marc’s desk for fifteen to twenty seconds. Without lifting her head, she looked at Marc. The corners of her mouth curled into a smile and she said, “Well if you’re going to put it that way,” and she started to laugh.

  Marc chuckled a little too then said, “I haven’t told you this, but I think you need to hear it. Don’t get mad, but you did something stupid; this dalliance with Chip, the child. Now you’re mad at yourself. It’s not helping you or the girls and it’s not fair to Sam, and you know it.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” she agreed.

  “What do you say we get this done so everyone can get on with their lives? You’re still a very attractive woman, Kelly. You’ll meet someone else, trust me,” Marc said then thought, and you can try to neuter him.

  Marc knocked on Connie’s locked office door and yelled, “She’s gone. You can come out now.”

  A few seconds later, Connie’s door slowly opened and she stuck her head out and looked around.

  “You coward,” Marc said to her.

  “She’s gone?” Connie asked.

  “Yeah, you can come out,” Marc said.

  “We could hear through your door,” Connie said while coming out into the reception area.

  “Really? Was I that loud?” Marc asked looking at Carolyn and Sandy.

  “No,” Carolyn said, “she was. Didn’t you notice?”

  “Not really,” Marc said as he took a phone message from Sandy.

  “How can you ignore that?” Carolyn asked.

  “It’s a skill you develop doing divorce work,” Connie replied. “Especially if you represent a woman scorned.”

  “Hey,” Marc said turning to Connie holding the message slip in his hand. “I guess I’m meeting Maddy and Tony for lunch. You want to tag along?”

  “Sure,” Connie replied. “Where?”

  “Artie’s,” Marc said.

  “Just a moment, he’s standing right here,” Marc heard Sandy say into her phone.

  Sandy held her phone out to him and said, “Steve Gondeck.”

  “I’ll take it in my office.”

  Maddy and Carvelli were at a booth toward the back of the resturant when Marc and Connie arrived. Carvelli leaned out and waved to them. Marc slid into the booth next to Maddy and Connie did the same on Carvelli’s side.

  “I have some good news, maybe,” Marc said. “I got a call from Steve Gondeck just before we left to come here.” Marc paused while the waitress took their orders and bantered a bit with Carvelli.

  “He told me he’s taking the Cannon Brothers’ case to a grand jury in a couple of days. He’s going to try to get some type of manslaughter indictment against the three top executives. The CEO, Dane Cannon, the COO, Greg Cannon, Dane’s brother and the Executive Vice President, Marissa Duggins.

  “He put one of their investigators on it and those were the people they came up with. They are the ones most likely to have seen the engineer’s memo. He is also having letters served on each one today, advising them that they are the subjects of a grand jury investigation.”

  “They’ll run to lawyers,” Carvelli said.

  “Sure,” Marc agreed. “The lawyer will call Steve and try to stop him. He’ll tell them to take a hike and go to the grand jury. He has three former Cannon Brothers employees who will testify that those three made the decision to put the skateboards on the market. They will also testify that the guy who wrote the memo would have shown it to them. We’re looking for an indictment, not a conviction.”

  “How did you get Steve Gondeck to go along with this?” Maddy asked.

  “Well, ah, um, I, ah, promised I would get you to sleep with him,” Marc said.

  Even Maddy burst into laughter at that statement. She half-heartedly threw an elbow into Marc for it, then, when the laughter died down, Marc turned serious.

  “It was Paxton. She was very persuasive. Plus, if we do expose this conspiracy, the Hennepin County Attorney’s office will get its share of kudos for it.”

  “We have another problem,” Carvelli said.

  “How did your date go last night?” Marc asked Maddy thinking that might be what Tony was referring to.

  “Fine,” she said. “Cal’s guys are following me.”

  “We spotted them, Maddy drove around for a while, and we only saw one car. We boxed them in and made them stop at a red light. She drove off. It looked perfectly natural,” Carvelli said.

  “But they’ll keep trying,” Marc said.

  “That’s not the problem I was going to tell you about,” Carvelli continued. “We’ll figure out how much we want Cal to find out about her.

  “The problem is, we know Cal found the bugs in his house. He left them in place and is trying to feed us bullshit. He doesn’t talk on the phone to anyone, so we’re not getting anything of substance.”

  “What do you want to do?” Marc asked.

  “I think it’s time I had another chat with Brody Knutson,” Carvelli said. “And this time I’ll tell him who I really am. Tell him I’m working with a U.S. attorney he needs to meet. I’ll bring him out to the hotel and we’ll hold him there until Paxton gets in.”

  “I called Paxton and she can fly in tomorrow morning. Maybe we have Tony bring Brody to the hotel and meet her, show him the video of Del Peterson and see if we can scare him into cooperating,” Maddy said.

  “Corroborate what the good congressman told us,” Carvelli said.

  “You guys need to shake the tree and shake it hard,” Connie said. “You don’t have enough with just Del Peterson.”

  “That’s why we’re going to indict the Cannon Brothers executives,” Marc said.

  “That case is really weak, Marc,” Connie said. “And you know it. What if their lawyers are smart enough to see that. Indicting them was always a long shot.”

  “If we can get one or more of them to flip, that would help. But Knutson, as Cal’s lawyer, knows where the worst of it is,” Maddy said.

  “Good point. Okay, you take another shot at Knutson,” Marc ag
reed. “How and when?” he asked.

  “Tomorrow morning, early. I’ll catch him in the parking ramp. He has a reserved parking space. I talked to my snitch in his office and she told me he’ll be in by seven.”

  “You’re going to be up at seven to meet him?” Marc asked. “I’m glad I won’t be there. Make sure you have plenty of coffee before you get there.”

  “Very funny, smartass. I’m finding I do my best work early in the morning,” Carvelli said.

  Maddy leaned across the table looked him directly in the eyes and asked, “What have you been smoking?”

  Shortly before 2:00 P.M. one of Cal’s phones rang. He looked at the caller ID, answered it and quickly said, “Hang on. I’ll be right with you.”

  He was at his desk using his computer when the call came in. A minute later, he was walking down the backyard toward the lake.

  “Okay, what’s up?” he asked into his phone.

  “We just got a notice from the Hennepin County Attorney,” Dane Cannon almost breathlessly said. “We’re the subject of a grand jury investigation.”

  This news stopped Cal dead in his tracks. For several seconds, he stood silently staring at the lake without breathing.

  “Are you there?” Dane asked.

  “Yes, I’m here,” Cal calmly replied. “First of all, who are the ‘we’ that you’re talking about?”

  “Me, Greg and Marissa. We all got a letter identifying us as the targets of a grand jury investigation.”

  Relieved that it was likely limited to a fishing expedition by the county attorney into Cannon Brothers and the skateboards, Cal continued to walk toward the lake.

  “Have you talked to a lawyer?”

  “Of course. We called Parker Stanton immediately,” Dave said.

  “He’s a corporate guy. You need a criminal defense lawyer. I’ll call one I know,” Cal said.

  “The letter says we can testify before the…”

  “No, absolutely not. You don’t talk to anyone let alone the grand jury. Trust me. You cannot help yourselves by testifying before the grand jury under oath. For now, just keep your mouths shut. My guy’s name is Thaddeus Cheney; Thad. He’s the best. Just sit by your phone and keep your mouths shut. I’ll make sure he calls you today. Do nothing until then.”

  “Yeah, okay. I’ve heard of this guy. He’s good. I feel better already,” Dane said.

  “Relax, he’ll get you through this,” Cal said.

  FORTY-THREE

  Tony Carvelli and Dan Sorenson were in Carvelli’s Camaro on station waiting for their subject. They were parked back-end-in so the two men could look through the front in the parking garage of the U.S. Bank building in downtown Minneapolis. Brooke Hartley had given Carvelli the time they needed to be here, which did not please Carvelli.

  Carvelli sipped his five-dollar cup of Starbucks and looked at the dashboard clock; 6:52 A.M. Any time now, he thought.

  “Pretty talkative this morning,” Sorenson said intentionally poking Carvelli.

  “Shut up,” Carvelli growled. “I have a gun you know.”

  Sorenson had all he could do not to choke on the coffee he swallowed. He got his breathing under control and laughed at Carvelli’s discomfort.

  “Anybody who is up this early every day needs to re-examine their life. It’s not natural,” Carvelli said.

  “Okay, sunshine,” Sorenson chuckled. “Here’s our guy,” he added as a new Lexus pulled into a reserved spot directly in front of them.

  “Good,” Carvelli said. “Let’s go.”

  The two men got out of Carvelli’s Camaro and got to the Lexus as its owner was exiting. As soon as he saw Carvelli, he froze stiff.

  “Morning, Brody,” Carvelli said. “Nice to see you again.”

  “What, what, um, ah, do you want?” Knutson stammered. “I did what you wanted. I passed the…”

  “It’s not what we want, Brody,” Carvelli said. “It’s what we are here to do for you.”

  “What?” Knutson tentatively asked.

  “Save your life,” Carvelli said. “Listen, we have something you need to hear. Come over to my car,” he continued pointing at the Camaro. “Give us a few minutes to explain. Then I promise you, if you want to go upstairs, you can. Fifteen minutes,” Carvelli said. “Then you can go.”

  “You’re not going to hurt me or kidnap me?”

  “No, that’s not who we are. Please,” Carvelli said.

  Sorenson was in the backseat, Carvelli behind the wheel and Knutson, clinging to his briefcase against his chest, was in the passenger seat.

  “First of all, my name is Tony Carvelli. I’m a licensed private investigator and a retired Minneapolis police detective. This guy is Dan Sorenson and he is also a retired MPD detective,” he said as he handed Knutson his PI credentials.

  “What the hell is going on?” Knutson angrily asked.

  “I apologize for shaking you up the other day. It was necessary to get your attention. There’s no Mafia involved. That reference to working for Italians was a cover. I’m not going to tell you who we work for at this point. But we do know everything I said to you; the stock manipulation, insider trading and conspiracy to commit murder.”

  “I don’t know anything about any murder,” Knutson pleaded.

  “You’re a lawyer. You know, legally, if you’re in on the conspiracy, you’re guilty of all of it,” Sorenson chimed in.

  “You’ve committed enough crimes to spend the rest of your life in prison anyway even without that.” Carvelli then leaned toward him and said, “So don’t try to act like a babe in the woods. Play it for him.”

  Sorenson held his phone out and put it right in front of Knutson. He turned on the recording.

  “What do you want to do with him?” Knutson heard the voice of Aidan Walsh ask.

  “Who? Knutson or the Italian gentleman?” he heard Cal Simpson reply.

  “Both,” Aidan said.

  “Knutson, nothing right now. We’ll stay as planned. The other guy. I’ll call D.C. and see what I can find out. You check with any sources you have. We need to find out where this is coming from.”

  Sorenson shut off his phone and returned it to his coat pocket.

  Knutson looked nervously back and forth at Carvelli and Sorenson three or four times. His tongue flicked out and he wet his lips. A drop of sweat trickled down the left side of his face.

  “That, ah, that doesn’t mean anything,” he said.

  Carvelli looked back at Sorenson who smiled and quietly laughed. He then looked at Knutson and asked, “What do you think they’re talking about? They have already murdered two people, Zach Evans and Lynn McDaniel…”

  “Can you prove that?” Knutson said.

  “Is that what you need?” Sorenson asked. “Proof beyond a reasonable doubt? This isn’t a courtroom and these two are not your friends. Aidan Walsh was asking his boss, Cal Simpson, if Cal wanted him to kill you.”

  “They wouldn’t dare, I’m the managing partner of a very important and politically connected law firm. I’m not some street punk,” Knutson arrogantly said.

  “Really?” Carvelli said. “Play the second part,” he told Sorenson.

  Using his phone again Sorenson played more of the recording. It was the part where Aidan asked Cal if he wanted him to take care of another problem. Cal affirmed it and told him to make it look natural.

  “Someone in your gang of crooks is going to turn up dead in the next few days. An accident or a heart attack,” Carvelli said.

  “Let me tell you who Cal Simpson and Aidan Walsh really are,” Carvelli added.

  For the next few minutes, Carvelli told the lawyer a brief history of Cal and Aidan starting with their real names. When he finished, Knutson could barely breathe.

  “Yeah,” Sorenson said from the backseat. “Your good buddies, your pals that you think are going to take care of you, are long-time gangsters. Between them, they have left a trail of crime and bodies stretching back forty years to Boston and New York.”
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  “You want to wait a few days and see which one of your conspirators turns up dead?” Carvelli asked.

  “Could be you,” Sorenson said.

  Knutson sat silently for a full two minutes. He was trying to think through this situation for some thread he could grasp and cling to. Anything to convince him that what he was just told had nothing to do with him. When the two minutes were up, and nothing occurred to him, he finally, calmly looked at Carvelli.

  “What do you want? Can you help me?”

  “Atta boy, Brody,” Carvelli said as he started the car. “We’re going to take a little drive, meet some people and watch a video your pal Del Peterson made for us. Then we’ll talk about saving your ass.”

  Unseen by the three men in Carvelli’s car was a woman who was watching them. She had first seen the three of them by Knutson’s car. She slipped behind a concrete support pole in the ramp and watched them get in Carvelli’s car. She stayed there until Carvelli drove past then continued to her job. The first thing she did was make a phone call about what she had witnessed.

  On the way to the hotel, Sorenson made two phone calls; one to Marc and one to Conrad. They went to the same hotel they had used to make the video of Del Peterson’s confession, a Hilton on the 494 Strip.

  When they arrived, Carvelli obtained adjacent rooms on the tenth floor. Fifteen minutes later, Marc joined them.

  As soon as Marc arrived Knutson recognized him and said, “You’re a defense lawyer. I want to retain you to represent me. Money is no object.”

  Knutson was sitting in a chair by the window. Sorenson was on one of the two beds and Carvelli was on the couch. Marc looked down at an obviously stressed out Brody Knutson, smiled and shook his head. He sat down in a chair that matched the one Knutson was in with a small table between them.

  “Sorry,” Marc replied looking at the scared lawyer. “I have a conflict.”

  “Which is?” Knutson asked.

  “I know you were involved in the murder of my friend and I want you to spend the rest of your life in prison.”

  “I was not!” Knutson tried to protest. “I want to call a lawyer. I have a right to an attorney.”