Paxton stopped at Norah’s door and checked her watch. One minute early. Perfect. She rapped on the opaque door window, opened it and entered.
“My next meeting is here, Mason,” Paxton heard her boss say into her phone. “I’ll call you later.”
When Paxton heard Norah call the person on the phone, Mason, a buzz started in her head. So much so that she did not hear Norah ask her to come in and take a seat.
Paxton placed the stack of case files she had brought with her on the chair next to her. She had typed up a two-page synopsis of each of them and handed a copy to Norah.
“Welcome back, Norah,” Paxton said as she handed her the case synopsis.
“Thanks, Paxton,” she pleasantly replied.
It took less than a half-hour to go through the briefing. Most of Paxton’s caseload were relatively minor matters. Small time drug deals, gun crimes and a couple of interstate transportation of prostitutes. Paxton had three one or two-day trials coming up over the next two weeks. Even those would likely plead out. The rest of her cases were making their way up the food chain toward a resolution.
“Well, it sounds like you’re on top of everything,” Norah said when they finished. “Just between you and me, I wish everyone else in this office was as efficient.”
“It’s not that hard. I handled a lot more complicated cases when I was with the JAG Corp,” Paxton said.
“I know that,” Norah said. “And you’re on your way to getting better cases. Hang in there. Um, one more thing,” Norah said.
Here it comes, Paxton thought.
“You’re done with this Calvin Simpson business, aren’t you?”
“Sure, yeah, why?”
“Just wanted to make sure. It’s not even our jurisdiction. So, I just wanted to be sure you’ve let it go.”
Back in her office, Paxton put the stack of files back in her credenza. When she finished that, she sat at her desk for several minutes contemplating Norah’s use of the name Mason. The way she spoke it, Mason was obviously more than an acquaintance. In fact, it sounded more like a personal call than a business call.
Paxton searched her memory for the name of Norah’s husband. She had only met him once and he was a very forgettable man. His name was Doyle or Dale. Something like that. Certainly not anything close to Mason.
A thought occurred to her. She opened a desk drawer to retrieve her personal phone from her purse. She found the number she wanted in her directory and almost dialed it. Instead, she decided to go outside for privacy to make the call.
On the ride down the elevator, Paxton found herself wondering why Norah was so concerned about Calvin Simpson. From what she had experienced, Norah had no problem with the lawyers and investigators going outside the box; pursuing matters that might not come into her office through normal channels. Why the obvious desire to squelch Paxton’s interest in Cal Simpson?
“Hey, Uncle Sean,” Paxton said when he answered her call. “I have a question for you.”
“Why haven’t you called lately?” Sean asked.
“No, that’s not the question,” Paxton replied smiling.
“Very funny, smartass. Why haven’t you…?”
“I’ve been busy. Sorry. I’ve been in Minnesota quite a bit,” Paxton answered.
“How’s that going?”
“That’s why I’m calling. Did you ever work with or know someone named Mason?” Paxton asked.
“Mason? Let me think. Yeah, I did. Probably three or four of them over the years. Why?”
“Any that might have known or worked with my boss, Norah McCabe? Either at the FBI or DOJ?”
“Let me think,” Sean said again. “My memory isn’t what it used to be.”
A moment later he asked, “Was McCabe ever at the U.S. Attorney’s office in Philly?” Sean asked.
“Philadelphia?”
“Yeah. Was she ever…”
“Yes, I’m certain of it. I’ve even heard guys joke about it. It’s a joke about her around the office. She’s quick to say ‘the way we did things in Philadelphia’ or ‘the big busts we made in Philadelphia.’ Things like that. Why?”
“Mason Hooper,” Sean quietly said. Then the light went on. “It was Mason Hooper who gave me the tip that led to the arrest of Les Snelling and his guys. You remember when Les picked out that thug’s picture and his name? What was it?”
“Aidan. It was Aidan, wasn’t it?” Paxton asked excitedly.
“Yes, Aidan. He was the guy that Les believed gave Hooper the tip about Les’ bank gang.”
“And, he works for Calvin Simpson. Sonofabitch,” Paxton quietly said.
“In fact, now that I think about it. I remember the rumor around the fed offices in Philly was that Hooper had a big-time gangster snitch feeding him cases. It has made his career. Is he in Chicago?”
“No, I’m not sure where he is,” Paxton said. “If I make an inquiry about him it will set off alarm bells. Could you? Can you check…?”
“Sure. I know just who to call. If he’s in, I can probably get back to you today.”
“Thanks, Sean. Call me as soon as you know.”
Before Paxton went to lunch, Sean O’Rourke called his favorite niece with the news. Mason Hooper was indeed in Washington. He was now the Assistant to the Deputy Attorney General of the United States. Mason Hooper’s immediate superior was the number two man at the Department of Justice.
Additionally, Sean’s source also told him that Hooper met regularly and personally with a U.S. Attorney by the name of Norah McCabe. In fact, the two of them had been very close for almost twenty years.
FORTY-NINE
Marc parked his car next to Carvelli’s Camaro on Vivian’s driveway. He got out, but before going inside, he took a minute to look around. He was holding a leather satchel briefcase in his left hand and turned up the collar of his trench coat with his right. It was another windy, cloudy, wet autumn day. Almost all of the leaves were off of the trees because of the windy weather. It was still early-October, normally one of the best months of the year. This one seemed to portend an early and difficult winter.
A minute later, Marc, sans trench coat, entered the mansion’s library. Waiting for him were the usual suspects; Vivian, Maddy, and Carvelli. There was a real wood fire going in the fireplace and Marc took a seat next to Carvelli across from Vivian and Maddy.
“Thanks,” Marc said as Vivian poured him a cup of coffee. He took a small sip then said, “We have another problem.”
“What now?” Carvelli asked.
“The leaves are almost off of the trees. Conrad’s directional booster you guys stuck up in the tree at Cal’s is going to be spotted pretty soon.”
“Yeah, I know,” Carvelli said. “He reminded me about it a couple of days ago. I don’t know what to do about it. Unless someone wants to try to sneak down there at night and get it.”
“Bad idea,” Marc said. “I’m not sure it’s worth the bother. They know about the bugs. So what if they find it?”
“Good point,” Maddy agreed. “I think Cal is losing interest in me,” she continued. “He’s getting a little bored because I won’t sleep with him. I don’t know how much longer…”
“So, sleep with him,” Carvelli said.
“Anthony!” Vivian loudly admonished him, accompanied by a severe look.
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Carvelli protested.
When he said what he did, Marc slid over on the couch as far as he could and leaned away from him. He looked at the two women, both of whom were giving Carvelli death-ray eyes and Marc said, “She has a gun, you know. I’d appreciate it if you’d refrain from saying things like that with me sitting next to you.”
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Carvelli said. “It was a bad joke.”
To change the subject Carvelli quickly said, “Paul found out some interesting things about Mason Hooper.”
Paxton had called Maddy the previous evening with the news about Mason Hooper. Maddy then called Carvelli who took it to
Paul Baker to run a background check on him. Maddy had also called Marc, but Vivian was in the dark about this. Carvelli, delighted to be on to a new subject, took a few minutes to explain it to her.
“I don’t have a written report from Paul, but I got the gist of it over the phone before I came here. Paul followed him almost back to the cradle.
“Mason Hooper began life and grew up in a South Boston neighborhood. One of those tough, Irish-gang places where the kids grew up to be cops or crooks.”
“Or both,” Maddy said.
“That’s probably truer than you know,” Carvelli said. “He lived in the same house—the same house his mother still lives in—until he went away to college.
“He went to Fordham….”
“Good school,” Marc said.
“…on a basketball scholarship. He graduated four years later with a B.A. in criminal justice studies.
“I forgot to mention,” Carvelli said. “His dad was a cop. A captain with the Boston P.D. That probably didn’t hurt his being accepted into the FBI after college. Five years later the taxpayers put him through law school at Georgetown. He graduated cum laude three years later and he’s been with the DOJ ever since.”
“So far, nothing remarkable,” Marc said.
“Except,” Carvelli replied, “that house his mom still lives in—dad died of cancer about ten years ago—is on West 4th Street and is directly across the street from the home of one Margaret Ann Kirk. Maggie, as she is known, just happens to be the mother of a certain Walter Kirk. More affectionately known to us as Calvin Simpson.”
With that, Carvelli, who had been leaning forward, elbows on his knees, sat back on the couch and crossed his legs.
“Oh, yeah,” Marc quietly said. “There it is.”
“Do we know for sure…” Maddy started to say.
“Paul got into Hooper’s juvenile record,” Carvelli said. “Don’t ask me how, I don’t ask him a question like that. Anyway, what he found was a few minor scrapes with the law. Mostly knothead, teenage boy stuff. Joyriding in a stolen car once was the worst of it. But every time he got jammed up as a kid, the name Walter Kirk was involved. They grew up together. They were good friends.”
“Except Mason joined the FBI and then the DOJ after law school,” Marc said.
“And his good pal Wally chose a different path,” Carvelli said.
“And they’ve been holding hands and helping each otherr since,” Maddy said.
“Slow it down,” Vivian chimed in. “That’s a very serious allegation. Do you have any proof? Any evidence?”
“Paxton thinks she might,” Maddy replied. For the next few minutes, Maddy told Vivian about Paxton’s Uncle Sean and his friend Lester Snelling.
“So, this Lester Snelling believes it was Aidan who gave up Lester’s bank robbery crew and Uncle Sean says it came from Mason Hooper to him,” Marc said.
“Makes sense,” Carvelli said.
“Yeah, it does,” Marc agreed. “But what do we do with it?”
“Uncle Sean is going to try to quietly do some investigation into Mason Hooper and his cases. See if he can come up with more cases where a snitch miraculously appeared and dropped a case into Hooper’s lap,” Maddy said.
“And that’s how Cal Simpson has been able to get away with what he has done over the years. He’s had a pal at Justice covering for him,” Carvelli added.
“Maybe,” Marc said. “Would Mason Hooper risk everything to help Cal just for career enhancement?”
“Oh god,” Vivian said. “Do you think he might have a retirement nest egg put away somewhere?”
“Possible,” Marc said. “Could Paul check on that?”
“He can check,” Carvelli said. “I don’t know if he can find anything. These are smart, sophisticated people. If anything like that is going on, they would know how to cover their tracks.”
Maddy sat forward, snapped her fingers, pointed at Carvelli and said, “Can Paul track Hooper’s career path? Can he look at the offices he was assigned to and personnel who were with him? We know Paxton’s boss has a relationship with Hooper—Paxton thinks they’re having an affair. What about others. We might get lucky and find a weak link there.”
“I’ll talk to him about it,” Carvelli said. “Any other ideas?” Carvelli asked as he looked at each one of them.
“Maybe Paul could pursue the affair angle between this Mason Hooper and Paxton’s boss,” Maddy said.
“There might be a trail,” Carvelli replied. “Credit card receipts, airline tickets. I’ll see what he can come up with. Paul is going to build a nice retirement plan from just us,” Carvelli added looking at Vivian.
“Stop worrying about the money. I’ve told you a hundred times, this is the most fun I have.”
The four of them went silent for a moment, then Vivian asked, “What’s going on with Brooke’s case?”
“We’re having the evidentiary hearing on probable cause Monday morning. I’ll try to pull a rabbit out of a hat and get the case dismissed. It’s a little risky, but I think we have a good shot.”
“Why is it risky?” Maddy asked.
“Because all the prosecution has to do is show probable cause that a crime was committed and the evidence points to Brooke. It’s a pretty low threshold for them.
“I just remembered,” Marc continued. “I have an idea I want to run past all of you.”
“You have an idea?” Carvelli sarcastically kidded him. “When did this miracle occur?”
“I get an idea about once a month or so. You should try it, Mr. Smartass,” Marc replied.
“I’ve been thinking about going on Gabriella’s show. Have you seen her lately?” Marc asked Maddy.
“We’re going out to dinner this weekend. Friday night. I’m seeing Cal Saturday night,” Maddy replied.
Marc looked at Carvelli and before Marc could ask, Carvelli said, “She’s covered. Both nights. We’re going to watch her Friday night as well.”
“Why do you want to go on Gabriella’s TV show?” Vivian asked.
“We have ideas, but not much else,” Marc replied. “We know with certainty what these people have been up to at least as far as the stock manipulation, insider trading and probably money laundering. We can look into Paxton’s boss and this Hooper guy. Things like that. We’ve been doing that for months. We even have a list of politicians we were told are involved with Cal. But so far, we have nothing to really go after them with. We don’t have independent corroboration. I want them for Zach’s murder and the other one, Lynn McDaniel.”
“We need to crack someone to corroborate Congressman Peterson,” Maddy said.
“And we’re not getting it. We started down this path to solving Zach’s murder. We know who did it, how was it done and why…”
“Or so we think,” Carvelli said.
“Exactly,” Marc agreed. “We need to do something to shake this up.”
“You want to go on Gabriella’s show and lay it all out?” Vivian asked.
“Maybe,” Marc answered her. “At least enough to shake the tree. And maybe get the snakes attacking each other.”
“When?” Maddy asked.
“After Brooke’s hearing. I’m thinking toward the end of next week. Monday and Tuesday, I’ll be in court. Maybe Wednesday, too. Thursday would be good.”
“I’ll talk to her about it. She’ll be happy to get you on,” Maddy said.
“You cannot name names,” Vivian sternly told him.
“I know and I won’t. But I think I can talk about Cannon Brothers Toys and Morton Aviation. The public relations campaigns, the engineer’s memo, the stock manipulation and insider trading. We need to do something to kick this loose.”
FIFTY
“I am so nervous I can barely breathe,” Brooke whispered in Marc’s ear.
The two of them, along with Jeff Modell, the office paralegal, had just stepped off of the elevator from the parking ramp. They were walking through the second- floor atrium of the Hennepin County Gove
rnment Center toward the courtside elevators. It was half-past eight o’clock and the second-floor was busy with people scrambling to their offices. Brooke was clinging to Marc’s arm so hard that his left-hand was starting to tingle.
“Brooke, you’re cutting off the blood flow in my arm,” Marc quietly said.
“Oh god! I’m sorry,” she replied and let go of his arm. “I’m just…”
“Nervous,” Marc said.
After going through security, they stopped at the bank of elevators and while they waited, Marc took her aside.
“Relax. Nothing is going to happen today,” Marc looked her in the eyes and reassuringly said.
At that moment, three elevator cars appeared at the same time. This allowed the three of them to have one all to themselves. They began to ascend to fifteen and Brooke took a deep breath.
“Okay,” she said. “Tell me again what this is about.”
“It’s an evidentiary hearing to determine whether or not they have sufficient probable cause to go forward. They’ll put on their witnesses to go over the evidence they have against you. Normally, the defense doesn’t do much of anything with this. It’s a way to get a look at their evidence, at least some of it, and their witnesses. I’m going to put on a case and try to stop this thing right now,” Marc told her. “When both sides are done Judge Williams will decide if the case should proceed to trial.”
“What do you think?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Probable cause is a pretty low threshold to reach. We’ll see,” Marc shrugged.
“That’s reassuring,” Brooke said. Which elicited a laugh from Jeff Modell.
They exited the elevator and ran into several media people milling about in front of 1534, Judge Mitchell Williams’ courtroom. Recognizing most of them, Marc looked them over and asked, “Slow news day?”
Marc turned to Jeff and whispered to him to get Brooke inside. While Jeff and Brooke hurried into the courtroom, Marc stood in front of the door to block it.
“Arnie, you know I’m not going to let you talk to her,” Marc said to a reporter from the St. Paul paper. “Why are you even here? Not enough crime in St. Paul?”
Insider Justice: A Financial Thriller (Marc Kadella Legal Mysteries Book 8) Page 31