J.D. Trafford - Michael Collins 03 - No Time To Hide (29 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTY
FIVE

Agent Armstrong left Vatch. Armstrong had spoken to Brenda Gadd briefly before she returned to court that afternoon. She had given him a list of questions that he needed to answer in the next four hours. The case had fallen apart. The only way to salvage it was by lighting a fire.

Armstrong dispatched one agent to find Brent Krane. A record check confirmed that he had, in fact, traveled out of the country during the purported fire at the Sunset Resort
. It was just as Michael Collins’ attorney had alleged. It was a good fact for the defense, but it might also give the FBI some leverage during questioning.

Another agent was sent to find Tad Garvin, and Armstrong assigned himself the task of breaking Brea Krane. He wanted to be the hero.

Armstrong checked the address, again. Then he took a left on 2nd Avenue and a right to Brea Krane’s condo. He found it, but there was no parking in front. Armstrong circled the block twice, and then he saw a Toyota Prius leaving a meter a half block from the front door of Brea Krane’s building.

###

Brea Krane walked into her front foyer. The lights were on, and she knew that she wasn’t alone.

“Hello.” She placed her keys on a small table and walked further inside. She called out, again, and this time, there was an answer.

“We’re in here.”

Tad Garvin sat on the couch in her living room. Her brother sat in a chair across from him. Brent was, as always, pale and a little dirty. What concerned her, however, was the gun in his hand.

Brent glared at her. There was a darkness in his eyes.

“Wondering when you’d show up.”

“Put that away.” Brea gestured toward the gun. She decided to push away her fear and be the big sister. She needed to control him, just as she had always controlled him. “I thought you were still up in Montauk.”

The crowd didn’t like his sister’s attitude, and Brent didn’t like it either.

“Been back long enough. Long enough to see you meet with Michael Collins’ girlfriend.” He looked at Garvin. “Long enough to hear about the money and the new accounts that our lawyer has set up for us.” The crowd grew impatient, and Brent lost his train of thought in the noise.  “Then we’ve got this scheme. … A fake trust agreement.” Brent shook his head. “Brilliant.”

“I didn’t know anything about that,” Brea said, but her brother ignored her.

“I saw you in court today. Didn’t know you were such an actress.”

“Listen, brother, you need to put the gun away so that we can talk.”

“I’ve had enough talk.” Brent shook with anger. Brea saw his trigger finger twitch and his other fingers tighten around the gun’s grip. He said, “I’m tired of you talking.”

”Brent, you’re obviously not feeling too well.” Brea walked toward him. “How about we —”

Her brother jumped out of his seat. “Not another step.” Brent stood in front of her. Brea stopped. Her arms in the air, surrendering.

“I know what I’m doing.” Brent pointed the gun at her, and then directed Brea to the couch. “Sit next to your beloved lawyer.”

She did as she was told. Brea sat down on the couch.

“While we were waiting for you, I was just discussing life with our boy, Tad. Isn’t that right, Mr. Garvin?”

Brea turned to look at Tad. She watched him nod his head. His hands trembled. She noticed a fresh bruise on the side of his face and a few drops of blood on his collar.

She tried again to calm her brother.

It didn’t work.

Brent made a sudden move toward Garvin. He raised his hand, as if to strike with the butt of the gun. Tad Garvin flinched, and Brent laughed. The crowd appreciated Brent’s dominance.

“I think I’ll spare you for now.” Brent lowered the gun, and then pointed it back at his sister.

The crowd liked the power, and encouraged him to continue.

“So, at some point, you talk with Michael Collins and concoct a plan. He turns himself in, and you start working with Collins’ girlfriend. Am I right so far?”

“If you would just let me explain why?” Brea’s tone had changed. She couldn’t keep the fear away anymore. She was pleading.

“I know why,” Brent snapped back at her. “Money. It’s always about the money. But what about honor and pride and family?”

Brent took a step closer to her. “Just let me finish,” He pointed the gun at Brea’s head, inches away. “You sleep with our boy, Tad, and then get him to send the bogus trust agreement to the government. You get the money in exchange for the magic evidence that’s going to set Michael Collins free.”

“Please, Brent,” Brea was crying now. “Please. I wasn’t ever going to help Michael Collins. I was just shaking him down.”

Brent ignored the explanation. “I figure you didn’t let Tad know about everything. Just enough. You were just using him. Right?”

“Brent, that money was for you,” she lied, but it was the only thing that she could think of.

“False,” Brent took a step back. “It wasn’t for me. It was all for yourself. Nothing is ever enough for daddy’s princess. You needed a little more. And you couldn’t handle the government and all those supposed victims taking it away from you.”

“You’re too emotional, Brent. I couldn’t let you in on the plan. Especially after you went down there, lighting fires and taking unnecessary risks.”

The crowd didn’t like his sister’s accusations. The crowd wanted her to plead for her life again.

“I was exacting revenge for what Michael Collins took away from me.” Brent tried to get the power back. “You got the trust fund. I got nothing. The horde of lawyers and government bureaucrats clawed it away from me. I was a laughingstock at school. I was harassed. I was hated. Then I had to leave because our family couldn’t afford it.” Brent cocked his head to the side, thinking. “But you could afford it. You could have kept me in school. You had some money.”

Brent walked toward Brea. The crowd pushed him closer, urging him to finally be rid of her. Now the crowd didn’t want any of the tainted money. There was no reason for it. Everybody knew that they weren’t going to survive the day.

Brent felt his heart pound. Adrenaline shot through his body, making him feel taller, stronger, better. He put the muzzle to his sister’s forehead.

Brent closed his eyes.

“Goodbye, sister.” Brent pulled the trigger, and just before the gun fired, he felt his arm jerk away. The shot missed his sister’s head and blew a hole into the living room wall.

His sister screamed. Tad Garvin was on top of him, wrestling him to the ground and trying to get the gun.

###

Agent Armstrong heard the first shot when the elevator doors opened. He and the building manager ran down the hallway toward Brea Krane’s condominium. Armstrong wanted to call for backup, but there wasn’t time.

They sprinted toward  Brea Krane’s door. The building manager got out his master key, as Armstrong drew his own service weapon.

The door unlocked, and Armstrong burst through the doorway just as a second shot fired. He threw himself to the ground. Armstrong was unsure about whether he was being shot at or whether anybody even knew that he was inside.

He pulled himself up to his knees.

“FBI,” he shouted. “Put your hands above your head. You’re under arrest.” Armstrong rounded the corner. He saw Tad Garvin on the ground. His chest was painted red, and then he saw Brent Krane charging him, screaming.

Brent Krane fired three wild shots. Armstrong heard the building manager scream in pain from behind him. Then Armstrong returned the fire.

The first shot went through Brent Krane’s shoulder. It didn’t slow him. He kept charging.  The second shot hit his neck, and spun him around, and the third hit Brent Krane in the head. He fell backward, into a glass coffee table. Brent was dead before his body touched the floor.

Armstrong fell back onto his knees. He turned around and saw the building manager. The building manager was on the ground, bleeding, but he was still alive. Then Armstrong stood and surveyed the living room.

Tad Garvin was lying on the floor. Brent Krane was j
ust a few yards in front of him. Half his skull was gone.

Then Armstrong saw Brea Krane in the distance. She looked like she was sitting on the couch, frozen.

Armstrong took another step forward. He called out to her, but Brea Krane did not respond. That’s when he noticed the red dot on her shirt. The first shot that had gone through her brother’s shoulder had continued. It had struck her in the heart.

Armstrong heard the sirens coming. He turned back to the building manager. “Help is here.” He was breathing hard. “You hang on.”

Then Armstrong walked over to the wall and sat down on the floor. He pulled the phone out of his pocket. He found Brenda Gadd’s phone number in the directory. He knew that he had to call her, but, first, he needed to figure out how he was going to explain that all three of their witnesses were dead.

CHAPTER EIGHTY
SIX

Brenda Gadd’s fight was replaced by bitterness. She had been wronged. She knew that she had been cheated. She knew that a guilty man was going free, but there was little that she could do.

“I’m going to make a promise to you,” she leaned over to Quentin Robinson, checking to make sure that the judge had still not arrived. “I’m going back and reviewing everything. I’m investigating everything you did in this case. I’m investigating all the correspondence. I’m figuring out how you got paid. I’m looking at everything, and if I discover any evidence that you conspired to illicit false testimony or interfered with our investigation, you’re going to jail.”

Quentin closed his eyes. He wasn’t going to be baited. He wasn’t going to be drawn into an argument, especially in a judge’s chambers. He decided to keep his mouth shut and wait.

“Good morning
.” Judge Husk entered the room, and then tottered around Brenda Gadd and Quentin Robinson’s chairs to his desk. “Quite a trial we’ve had.”

Judge Husk slowly lowered himself into his chair. Then his dutiful law clerk pushed him and the chair closer to his desk.

“Now,” Husk nodded, settled. “My clerk tells me that there have been developments since we adjourned yesterday afternoon.” Husk’s tone when he said the word “developments” indicated that he knew that such a description of recent events was an understatement.

“Yes, Your Honor.” Brenda Gadd tried to put on a strong front. “After the morning’s testimony, I sent several agents out to talk to Brea Krane and her attorney. There were serious questions after yesterday’s testimony regard
ing how that trust agreement had been disclosed, why it had been delayed until the end of trial, and why nobody informed me of its existence. As you know, Your Honor, I maintain that it is a fake.” Brenda Gadd clenched her jaw.

“I know what you believe, Ms. Gadd, but that is not the critical issue at the moment.” Judge Husk looked at Brenda Gadd with a certain amount of pity. “Please go on.”

“Well a confrontation occurred when one of our agents arrived at Brea Krane’s condominium. A shot had been fired. The attorney was dead when our agent entered the premises. More shots were exchanged, and when the episode concluded, the building manager had been wounded by a stray bullet and Brea Krane and her brother, Brent, were dead.”

Judge Husk rubbed his chin, thinking. He obviously had opinions, but he kept them to himself.

Gadd continued. “And so, needless to say, our investigation was halted and we have been unable to fully develop a rebuttal argument.”

“You could call the investigator or agent. He could testify as to what he saw. He could testify related to the wire transfers and your belief that the document is a fake.” Judge Husk made the suggestion half-heartedly. He knew there was little to be gained. In fact, telling the jury that there were three people now dead would only bolster the defendant’s theory. Michael Collins and his attorney were arguing that Brea Krane and her brother were trying to extort him, pressure him into giving them control of their father’s trust. The fact that they both met such a violent end suggested that this theory was true.

“I’d rather just make the argument in closing, Your Honor.” Gadd looked at Quentin. “But we all know this stinks, and I will investigate it. There has been a fraud committed upon this court.”

Quentin looked at the judge. “I disagree,” he said softly. “The questions aren’t ever going to be answered, but as an officer of the court, I swear that I simply listened to my client, built my
defense, and argued the evidence that I had. Keep in mind that the trust agreement didn’t come from one of my witnesses. It came from the government. It was Brenda Gadd who sent it to me after her agents reviewed it.”

Judge Husk raised his hand.

“I think I’ve heard enough.” He took a breath. “You can save it. The trial will continue.”

CHAPTER EIGHTY SEVEN

Michael Collins listened to Brenda Gadd’s closing argument with pity. He kept waiting for Brenda Gadd to do something amazing or brilliant. He kept waiting for her to magically repair the damage that the trust agreement had wrought upon the government’s case against him.

But nothing came.

Her Mother Hubbard smile was gone. The veneer of folksy wit had worn away. Instead of reframing her case in a new light, Brenda Gadd was sarcastic and condescending. She acted superior to everyone in the courtroom. Then she ended her closing argument with a bizarre warning to the jurors.

“Don’t be fooled by the smoke and mirrors,” Gadd pointed at Michael and Quentin. “Don’t be fooled by a fantastic story, when the truth is so clear.”

She sat down, and Judge Husk nodded toward Quentin.

It was the defendant’s turn, and Quentin Robinson approached the podium like a man who knew he had the winning lottery ticket.

“Remember when this trial started?” Quentin rocked to his toes, and then back again. A spring in his step. “Remember when you were all picked as jurors, and you were sworn in, and you sat right here in this courtroom, and Judge Husk told you that the attorneys would now present their opening statements?”

Quentin nodded, making eye contact with each member of the jury.

“I remember it. I was nervous. I dropped my paper on the floor. I looked pretty foolish.” Quentin put his hands on his hips. He allowed the jurors to remember that rocky start and laugh with him. It was as if they were all good friends now.

Quentin then stepped directly in front of the jury box. He looked down, as if collecting his thoughts, and then looked back up.

“I remember two other things about that day.  First, I asked you all to keep an open mind. I asked you all to wait until all the evidence was in. In fact, that is also exactly what Judge Husk asked you to do, and you swore, under oath, to uphold his rules.”

Quentin paused, making sure everyone remembered the same thing. He wanted them all on the same page before moving forward. In that way, he was the exact opposite of Brenda Gadd. Quentin was not condescending. He didn’t act superior. He was a helper and a friend. He was gently guiding the jurors.

“The second thing that I remember was what Brenda Gadd said. The government told us that, and I’m quoting here, ‘the documents do not lie. The documents speak for themselves.’” Quentin nodded. “I agree.”

“The document is the trust agreement. It was signed by Joshua Krane and my client, Michael Collins. It authorized him to make investments and make charitable contributions, which he did. And it also required him to maintain confidentiality. Now you may not agree with the investments that my client made with part of the trust assets. You may also not agree with the charitable contribution, which went to the church where Michael Collins attended as a young man. But the plain language of the trust agreement gives Michael Collins “sole discretion” to make the decisions on behalf of the trust. Sole discretion means, simply, it’s his call. He can do what he thinks is best, despite Brea Krane or her brother’s opinion.”

Quentin took a step back and pointed at Brenda Gadd.

“She said the documents do not lie. She said the documents speak for themselves. And here we have the document that explains what Michael Collins did and gave him the legal authority to do it.”

Quentin put his hands on his hips.

“Agent Frank Vatch testified that Michael Collins was a thief. He said, essentially, that Michael Collins saw an opportunity to get rich and took it, but the documents do not lie. There’s no evidence that Michael Collins took all the money and spent it on himself. Most of it still remains in the accounts frozen by the government. What is missing are the investments and charitable contributions that Michael Collins had the complete authority to make. And if you look at the very bottom of the agreement, which is in evidence and you can review during your deliberations, it allowed Michael Collins to pay himself a reasonable amount for his services, which he did. He used trust assets to lease a little hut and gave himself a little extra to live on.”

Quentin walked back to the podium.

“So, we now have a decision to make. The government must prove beyond a reasonable doubt that Michael Collins took money that he was not authorized to take and committed wire fraud. Now what is “beyond a reasonable doubt”?  It is the standard of care and confidence that you would need to make one of the most important decisions in your life. The care and knowledge you would need to choose to have a major operation or get married.”

Quentin paused. He shook his head.

“It isn’t here. Given the existence of this trust agreement, I wouldn’t trust the government to have that operation or get married. There is just too much doubt. There is too much doubt, because we all know that Michael Collins didn’t take any money. He acted in accordance with his agreement with Joshua Krane.”