Roger Stelljes - The St. Paul Conspiracy

Viper dropped the paper in the garbage can and walked back across the street as McRyan climbed back into his Explorer, pulled out and did a U-turn in the middle of Grand, and headed back towards downtown. Viper jumped back into the van. “Follow him.”

McRyan dropped the Explorer off at the Pub and walked the three blocks to the courthouse. Viper looked at his watch-2:55 p.m. The arraignment hearing would start in five minutes.

“So, what do you think?” Bouchard asked.

“I gotta talk to the boss.”

Mac was late for the bail hearing. He saw Lich and went to sit next to him. Lich said, “It just started. I think the judge is going to knit the flag.”

Mac immediately realized Lich was right. Generally, the few times Mac had been to these hearings, the judge would dispense with these motions with little fanfare. Not today. Judge Jedediah Mattingly was in the spotlight, and he wasn’t going to waste it. There were media galore in the courtroom. The judge, his hair usually a little unkempt the times Mac had seen him, was immaculately dressed, a sharp dark-blue tie and white dress shirt under his robe. Mattingly introduced the case with great drama, talking about the importance of justice and the seriousness of his role. He then motioned towards Sally, “The prosecution may proceed.”

Sally stood up, “Thank you, your honor. May it please the court…” She looked great in a black power skirt suit that formed perfectly to her slender body. Her red hair was swirled perfectly in the back. She looked great. The cameras would be all over her.

Whereas the judge made a spectacle of himself, Sally did not. It was like any other case. She made her arguments in a straight-forward manner, emphasizing what Mac thought were the key points. Bail of one million dollars would be in order, given the nature of the crime, she argued. The judge’s eyes shot up at that.

“One million dollars, Ms. Kennedy?”

“It’s murder one, your honor. The state feels that accurately reflects the nature of the offense and the ability of the defendant to pay. The defendant surely has the means to flee. This bail is fair and appropriate.”

Sally had told him the judge would never set bail that high, but she had wanted to make a point. She thought it more likely that bail would be set at $500,000, only ten percent of which would have to be put down with the bail bondsman.

The judge turned to Lyman, “Mr. Hisle.”

“Thank you, your honor. The defendant has no intention of fleeing. He has every intention of proving his innocence and will be here for trial.” Hisle went on to make several other arguments. Again, Sally had nailed it on the head as to what Lyman would do. “Therefore, your honor, we feel bail in the amount of $100,000 would be more appropriate.”

Each side made some additional rebuttal arguments, and Judge Mattingly drew it to a close. Before rendering his decision, he engaged in more grandstanding, orating on the seriousness of the case, the fairness of the justice system and the gravity of his responsibilities. “Auditioning for Court TV I think,” Lich quipped.

“He wants Judge Judy’s gig,” Mac replied.

With great drama, Mattingly, finally and thankfully, announced, “Bail is set at $500,000.” He pounded his gavel, “Court is adjourned,” and with great dramatic flair exploded out of his seat and through his chambers door. Sally had hit it right on the head.

The media, en masse, burst out of their seats to head outside for their news reports. Mac looked at his watch, 3:50 p.m. Conveniently, everything was completed in time for the 5:00 p.m. eastern time news shows. Undoubtedly this would be a top, if not the top story.

Mac and Lich followed the press out, and someone tapped him on the shoulder. It was Sally. He grinned at her and said, “You were right on the money.”

“Seemed like the right number,” she said, and then she whispered, “Are you going to the Pub later?”

In fact I am, Mac thought. “Yes.”

“See you there?” she asked.

“Yeah, maybe we can grab some dinner?”

“Sounds good,” she replied with a smile.

As they came out of the courtroom, the media were swarming. There was a bright glare from the lights. Questions were being yelled from all angles, and there were microphones and cameras everywhere. Helen Anderson was holding court, saw Sally, and waved her over. Helen wanted the attention, but the media probably wanted to speak with the prosecutor who would actually be handling the case.

Mac quipped, “Your public awaits.”

Sally, replied with a mock flip of her hair, “How do I look?”

Mac whispered in her ear, “I like what I see.”

She gave just a little giggle and a smile and walked over to the cameras and microphones. Mac and Lich ducked into an elevator, trying to get away before somebody wanted to talk to them. Amazingly, when the elevator closed, it was only them and a couple of uniform cops. Lich naturally didn’t miss a thing. “Won’t be long now.”

“What won’t be long?” Mac replied wearily, knowing what was coming.

“You and Kennedy.”

“Jesus.”

One of the uniforms, Norb Rodriguez, joined in, “Hell, Mac, I thought you hit that already. She’s a looker. You see that suit?” His partner nodded along with a big smile.

Mac just shook his head. “Since when did I become National Enquirer material?”

“Hey, us married guys like having something to talk about,” replied Rodriguez.

“Face it, boyo,” said Lich, doing his Chief Flanagan impersonation, “You’re a popular guy who everyone likes, and frankly, you need to get laid.” Lich held his hands out, “What can I say? People just want to see you happy.”

Mac replied, rather lamely, he thought, “I wasn’t aware I was unhappy.”

Lich rolled his eyes. “You’re joking right?”

Mac shook his head. The elevator stopped, the doors opened, and they walked out. He’d thought they avoided the media, but he was wrong. Sylvia Miller and the chief were conducting a press conference, and they got dragged in. In front of the cameras, Mac and Lich received the appreciation of the chief and the entire department for so quickly making an arrest. Thankfully, they weren’t required to answer any questions before Miller and the chief brought it to a close.

Mac was already taking a lot of shit because of Sally; it would only double now. He could just hear it at the bar tonight, his Uncle Shamus would undoubtedly be leading the ribbing, “Ladies and gentlemen I bring you the savior of the St. Paul Police Department, a fine Irish lad, Michael McKenzie McRyan.” Before Mac and Lich left, Chief Flanagan wanted them to stop by his office. Mac knew happy hour would be getting an early Friday start.

As they walked back to the station, Lich asked, “So what happened this afternoon?”

Mac related what he’d learned from Blomberg. Lich was unmoved.

“It’s probably nothing, but you better let Kennedy know.”

“I imagine I’ll get the chance at some point,” replied Mac. “And I’m sure our conversation will appear in the gossip column the next day.”

Mac and Lich spent a happy hour with the chief, Captain Peters, and Sylvia Miller in Flanagan’s office. They watched the replays of the evening news, laughed and applauded about what everyone had said on camera. Helen Anderson and Sally had been effusive in their praise of the police department, of Lich and Mac in particular. The cadre hooted at the TV when the senator and Hisle declared innocence, confident that when the evidence was presented, Johnson would be found innocent. Lich was his usual humorous self. “He’s guiltier than my second wife.”