Exquisite Justice Page 14

  “I would have gotten it,” Marc said indignantly.

  “Eventually. Tony wants to meet me for breakfast,” Maddy said while they went into the living room.

  “Carvelli’s out of bed already? That is odd. Turn on the TV. We must be under attack by Martians,” Marc said. “What does he want?”

  “Don’t know. He just asked me to meet him at Sir Jacks on Chicago,” Maddy replied.

  “He didn’t ask for me?”

  “No, in fact, I’m not supposed to tell you this, but he told me not to let you come with,” Maddy replied.

  “Great. That can only mean he’s up to something criminal and he doesn’t want me to know about it. Now I have to go.”

  “No, I told him…”

  “Yes! I don’t care. End of discussion,” Marc emphatically said.

  Maddy tilted her head and gave him her best bedroom eyes come-on. Normally, this would make just about any man fold.

  “Won’t work,” Marc said. “I’ll get it later anyway.”

  “It’s such a turn on when you act so manly,” she said teasing him.

  “That won’t work either. Now, let’s go.”

  “Just for that,” Maddy said as they went through the kitchen door and into the attached garage, “we’ll see about you getting it later.”

  Marc laughed and said, “Now there’s an empty threat. You mean I might get a good night’s sleep.”

  “You’re playing with fire,” Maddy said, walking around Marc’s SUV to her new Audi.

  “Really? You want to put some money on how long each of us can hold out?” Marc asked.

  Maddy stopped, thought for a moment, and then meekly said, “No, I guess not.”

  Carvelli had the last booth on the left up against the back wall. He was reading the restaurant’s copy of the morning Star Tribune when he looked up and saw them come in. He frowned upon seeing Marc, then waved to them.

  Maddy slid in first across from Carvelli. While Marc sat next to her, Carvelli leaned on the table, his chin in his left palm, looking at Maddy.

  “He forced me. He threatened to withhold sex,” she told him.

  “Folded like a cheap suit,” Marc said.

  “Well, if he’s going to resort to torture, I guess I’ll let it go,” Carvelli said.

  Carvelli poured each a cup of coffee then the waitress arrived. They hastily ordered breakfast before getting to it.

  “What are you up to?” Marc, the lawyer, sternly asked.

  “I’m not sure yet,” Carvelli replied. “I found that ledger at Nicolette’s house…”

  “Oh, yes, I remember,” Marc said, “the evidence you withheld from the police.”

  “Oh, hell,” Carvelli lightly waved a hand. “I suppose if you want to get technical about it.”

  “I’m amazed I’ve been able to keep my license as long as I have hanging around you,” Marc said.

  “Shush,” Maddy said lightly slapping Marc’s hand. “Let him talk.”

  “Thank you, darling,” Carvelli said. He leaned toward Maddy, squeezed her right hand and asked, “What do you see in him?”

  She looked at Marc and then turned back to Carvelli. “It’s hard to explain.”

  “Irresistible sex appeal,” Marc said.

  “Okay,” Carvelli said. “Time to move on.

  “I have Chip Osbourne’s client ledger. Vivian and I went through it and she knows about half the guy’s customers. Mostly women. Vivian thinks they all belong to the country club Chip worked at, including Nicolette.”

  “What about Gary, Nicolette’s first husband?” Maddy asked.

  “No. Vivian called him and asked. He told her he never really liked that crowd. Anyway, to cut to the chase, I’m going undercover to find the source. Vivian wants these guys busted.”

  “Excuse me?” Marc said. “Isn’t that what we pay the police for?”

  “Whoever this is, has a line into the cops or city hall. Probably city hall,” Carvelli said. “I talked to a couple guys in narcotics at MPD. They tell me they’ve been shut out for months. They think whoever’s running things has really tightened things up. Gang shootings are down and supply, especially oxy and crack, are being tightly controlled.”

  “So, they need somebody from the outside,” Marc said.

  “Somebody who can start at the street-level and work his way up,” Carvelli said.

  “You’re playing a very dangerous game, my friend,” Marc said. “These cops you talked to, how much information did you give them? Can they be trusted?”

  “I gave them nothing. Just that I had someone I knew overdose and die. Nothing else. I was acting a little cautious and let them believe I was just curious for the family. Although I do trust these guys and I don’t think it’s the cops.”

  “You’re biased,” Maddy said.

  “I recognize that, my love. But I still think it’s more likely leaks from the mayor’s office or the city council,” Carvelli told her.

  “I’d bet on the city council,” Marc said. “They all think the solution to crime is throwing taxpayers money at basketball programs for gangbangers.”

  Their food came and they ate for a few minutes. Maddy finished first and pushed her plate aside.

  “You need to go see Jake Waschke and the guys,” she told Carvelli.

  “Yep,” Carvelli agreed. “That’s my next stop.” He looked at his watch and said, “We’re meeting at Jake’s at nine thirty.”

  “We?” Marc asked.

  “Not you, cowboy,” Carvelli said. “The lady and me.”

  “What are you planning to do if this works? If you find out who this is?” Maddy asked.

  “We’ll decide that if we get there and hopefully get enough to bust them,” Carvelli answered her.

  “You should go, and I have to get to the office,” Marc said.

  Maddy parked behind Carvelli on the street two doors down from their destination; Jake’s Limousine Service. The business was owned by an ex-MPD detective named Jake Waschke. Jake had foolishly gotten himself fired from the job and sent to prison for a couple of years. He had fabricated evidence of a murder case believing he was protecting his brother. Marc Kadella was the lawyer for the man Waschke did this to. It was Marc who had discovered it. Waschke took it like a man and accepted responsibility for what he did––a refreshing departure from society’s norms.

  “He’s got two more cars,” Carvelli said to Maddy as they approached the garage doors. There were two new Cadillac limos parked in the driveway.

  Jake’s business also provided good paying, easy, part-time employment for quite a few retired cops. Jake and three of those retired cops were waiting for Maddy and Carvelli.

  The building had two large garage doors for access for the cars. On the left was Jake’s office and behind him, the maintenance area. Maddy and Carvelli entered through a customer door to the left of the garage doors. When they got inside, they were in front of the large window for the office.

  They both waved at Jake who was seated at his desk, his feet up on an open desk drawer. The two of them went in and found the three ex-cops waiting for them along with Jake. All four stood when they came in.

  “Well, thanks guys,” Carvelli said when he saw them stand. “I had no idea…”

  “Get out of the way, Carvelli,” Dan Sorenson said lightly pushing him aside. “Hello, beautiful,” Sorenson said to Maddy.

  “Hi, Dan. Hi, guys,” Maddy replied as she gave Sorenson a quick hug.

  “Have you dumped the lawyer yet?” another one, Tommy Craven, asked.

  “Not yet,” Maddy replied with a laugh.

  “And you’ll be the last to know,” Jake said to Craven. “You guys are ridiculous,” he added.

  “Ah, they’re like adorable puppies,” Maddy said. “Especially the big guy, here,” she continued as she stepped up to the fourth man, Franklin Washington. Franklin was a large black man who would throw himself in front of a train for Maddy. And she knew it. Franklin got the serious embrace. They all s
at down and Carvelli took a few minutes to give them a quick version of why he wanted to see them. When he finished, he sat back waiting for questions.

  “And you don’t want to go to the cops for what reason?” Jake asked.

  “There’s a leak. Either in the Department or City Hall. Whoever is running things is well informed,” Carvelli said.

  “According to Andy Clayton?” Sorenson asked, referring to the narcotics cop Carvelli had talked to.

  “Yeah,” Carvelli said.

  “Andy’s no fool,” Jake interjected. “He’s been around a while.”

  “I know,” Sorenson quickly and defensively said.

  “You need a legend,” Craven said. “An undercover legend.” Tommy Craven knew this business. He had been a great undercover cop when he was on the job.

  “I can’t go to the department,” Carvelli said.

  “Then go to the Feebs,” Craven said referring to the FBI. “They’re great at it. They can access anything for it. They’ll build you a profile no one can crack.”

  “Locals?” Carvelli asked Craven.

  “Normally, I’d say yes. But, if you’re right about the leak, then that would be risky.”

  “What about the DEA?” asked Franklin.

  “I don’t think they’d help,” Jake said. “I know they used to be fanatics about protecting their turf.”

  “They still are,” Carvelli said. “I talked to Andy about them and he says they’re all cowboy assholes. They don’t cooperate with locals unless they have to; and even then, it’s a one-way street.”

  The room went silent and after a half minute, it was Maddy who had the answer.

  “Paxton,” she said.

  “Yeah, I forgot about her,” Craven said. “You think…?”

  “I think we need to make a trip to Chicago,” Carvelli said. “Is she still there?”

  “Yes,” Maddy replied. “I talk to her every couple of weeks. She asks about you,” Maddy slyly said giving Carvelli a playful poke in the ribs.

  “Give me a break,” an embarrassed Carvelli said.

  “Why, Tony, you’re actually blushing. That’s adorable,” Maddy said.

  “She’s a hottie,” Sorenson said while the others all looked at Carvelli with sneaky smiles and wide ‘aren’t you lucky’ eyes.

  “I am dead serious, Tony,” Maddy said. “I tell you what. We’ll go to Chicago. You ask her out to dinner, and I’ll bow out. What do you say? Vivian won’t care. Trust me.”

  “I guess we’re going to Chicago,” Carvelli said. “You call ahead and let her know what we need.”

  “I will,” Maddy replied.

  Twenty-Two

  Catching a plane between Minneapolis/St. Paul and Chicago is about as hard to do as finding a cab at an airport. There is a flight between them 25 to 30 times each day. The pilots wave to each other as they pass in the air.

  The day after the meeting in Jake’s office, Maddy and Carvelli were on a 10:30 A.M. flight to O’Hare. Scheduled for an hour and a half, it was barely an hour after leaving that they arrived. By using her badge and DOJ credentials, Paxton O’Rourke was waiting for them at the end of the ramp.

  Paxton O’Rourke, an Assistant United States Attorney, was assigned to Chicago. Marc, Maddy, and Carvelli had originally met her while she was a lawyer with the Army JAG Corps. Marc was defending a man falsely accused of treason. Paxton was the lead prosecutor.

  Paxton won the trial and the soldier, an army major, was convicted. Subsequent events would prove his innocence and the verdict was overturned. Even though she won the case at trial, the Army was in need of a scapegoat. Paxton was allowed to resign but landed on her feet with the Department of Justice.

  Both Maddy and Carvelli had each packed a single piece of luggage for the two days they were to be here. After a nice reunion of smiles and hugs, the three of them headed out of the airport.

  “So, tell me all about you and Marc. You know, I had a little thing for him myself,” Paxton said to Maddy. They were walking together arm in arm with Carvelli trailing behind.

  “Well,” Maddy started, “the sex is amazing.”

  “Shut up!” Paxton almost yelled then laughed. “I don’t want to hear that.”

  By now, both women were laughing hysterically drawing looks from other people. Carvelli slid back a little further from them.

  Upon leaving O’Hare, instead of heading toward the city, Paxton took I-294 South. Paxton, of course, was driving with Maddy in the front passenger seat and Carvelli in back. It was Carvelli, a Chicago native as was Maddy, who first noticed it.

  “Hey, where are we going?” he asked. “This doesn’t look like we’re going downtown.”

  “We’re not,” Paxton replied. “We’re heading for Schaumberg. I’m going this way to avoid the traffic and tolls on I-90.”

  “What’s in Schaumberg?” Carvelli asked. “Sean O’Rourke, Uncle Sean,” Carvelli immediately said, answering his own question referring to Paxton’s retired FBI agent uncle.

  The drive South then Northwest to her uncle’s took less than a half hour. Apparently, Paxton believed speed limit signs were only a suggestion.

  When they reached Sean’s mini-colonial, Carvelli was the first one out of the car. He paced up and down on the boulevard while the women waited.

  “What’s wrong?” Paxton asked.

  “I don’t like sitting in back while someone else drives, I don’t like not driving and…” he paused.

  “Go ahead, you sexist dinosaur. Say it. You don’t like women drivers,” Paxton said.

  Carvelli looked at Maddy somehow expecting help. Maddy smugly looked back and said, “What she said.”

  “How many speeding tickets have you gotten?” Carvelli asked hoping to change the subject.

  “How many have I been given or how many are on my record. A lot and none. Somehow I manage to magically make them go away.”

  Paxton looked toward the house and saw a man coming at them across the yard.

  “Hey, Uncle,” Paxton said.

  “Hello, Tony,” Sean greeted Carvelli. He turned to Maddy, held out his arms and said, “And, of course, the beautiful Miss Madeline.”

  They hugged and Maddy said, “Hello, Sean. It’s nice to see you again.”

  Paxton jogged to the front door and hugged the woman waiting for them. Her name was Helen Gregg and like Sean, a retired FBI employee. Introductions were made then they went inside.

  Helen served refreshments then they got down to why they were there. Maddy had given Paxton the reason for their trip and Paxton had told Sean and Helen. Carvelli explained what and why he was going to do in more detail and what he needed.

  “You need a bulletproof legend,” Helen said.

  “Right. Whoever is running the drug business in the Cities has political clout. We believe there’s a leak in the MPD or City Hall. He has a source. He’ll be able to check me out and I have to appear legit or he’ll smell it. Whoever it is, isn’t a fool.”

  “Well, you’ve come to the right place,” Sean said. “My lady friend here spent the last ten years at the Bureau doing just that.”

  “I did a lot of work with DEA and Witness Protection,” Helen said. “I still have contacts in the government to build one for you that your mother wouldn’t breach.”

  Maddy started laughing and after ten seconds or so Carvelli asked her, “What’s so funny?”

  Maddy stopped laughing, drew a deep breath and said, “The idea that you have a mother.”

  Even Carvelli had to laugh at that.

  “Yes, I have a mother and she loves me very much.”

  “If you say so,” Maddy said.

  “Okay, let’s leave his mother out of this,” Helen said. “Paxton told me a bit about what you wanted. Starting you off as a street-level dealer is actually a problem. Your age and hot Italian looks don’t lend itself to that.”

  Carvelli put on his best Italian charm face, looked at Maddy and said, “See, hot Italian looks.”

  “T
ell her about the customer ledger, Mr. Hot Italian Looks,” Maddy said.

  “I found the customer ledger for this Chip guy who was dealing the opioids,” Carvelli said. “It’s a pretty high-end list and they’re likely jonesing by now. Even if they have found a new source, I can still use that to move in.”

  “You’re going to have to feed these people,” Sean said. “At least some.”

  “And without the locals in on what you’re up to, you could get yourself jammed up pretty good,” Paxton replied.

  “I’ve got some cover with former cops I trust and now you,” Carvelli replied. “Can’t be helped. What about your contacts with the Feds? Can they be trusted?”

  “I know a couple of people. They’ll stick their necks out a bit for me,” Helen said.

  “Okay, let’s do it. How do we start?” Carvelli asked.

  “Have you ever done undercover before?” Sean asked.

  “Yeah, a couple of times for a short while,” Carvelli replied.

  “Then you know the risks,” Sean said.

  “I’m aware. And I know how to handle myself. Plus, I already have a safety net set up.”

  “How about a disgruntled Witsec Mafia guy? You’ve been working a job in a mortgage office shuffling paperwork and you can’t take it anymore?”

  “That wouldn’t be a lie,” Carvelli said. “If I had a job like that, I’d eat my gun.”

  “Good, ‘cause it’s all set,” Helen said. “You’ve been employed by Lake Mortgage, a real mortgage company that operates as an FBI front for us here in Chicago. You quit and haven’t been seen for a couple of months.”

  “What did I do for Lake Mortgage?”

  “You were a loan processor. You handled credit checks and the paperwork. There’s a website, a listing in the phone book, legit phone numbers. If anyone calls asking about you, the person answering will go into their computer and find everything all on the up and up,” Helen said.

  “Ah, what’s my name?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Helen laughed. “That could come in handy. Tony Russo. Anthony. I kept your first name for convenience. We have all the documents. Passport, social security, credit cards—they’re legit but don’t get carried away. The statements will go to an address you choose.”