Page 97 of Maddy's Justice

“He’s harmless,” Carvelli said.

“I know but…”

They silently approached the van from the passenger’s side. All the windows were covered with a film that allowed people to look out, but not see in from outside. Just before Carvelli opened the side door, there was a slight movement inside which let them know he was in there.

Carvelli pulled down on the door handle and jerked it open. The van had shelves filled with monitoring equipment, both audio and video, along the opposite wall floor to ceiling.

Sitting on a stool behind the driver’s seat was a man with a headset on. He was also staring at a small, full-color, TV screen. When Carvelli jerked open the door, the noise made him jump almost a foot off the chair.

“Sonofabitch, Carvelli! I wish you’d stop doing that to me.”

“Hi, Conrad. How’ve you been?”

“What do you want?” Conrad angrily asked holding the TV monitor against his chest while removing the headset.

“Oh, hey, hi Maddy. Please, come in,” he pleasantly said when he saw Maddy behind Carvelli.

Carvelli knelt on one knee, poked a finger on the TV monitor and said, “If you’re gonna watch porn, lock your doors.”

“Thank God, he’s got his pants on,” Maddy quickly added.

“Very funny,” Conrad replied. “I’m not watching porn. It’s this guy getting physical therapy in his home. See,” he said holding the monitor so they could see it.

“Pretty exciting,” Maddy said.

“Although the nurse, the Asian chick therapist, is kind of hot,” Carvelli said.

“She is,” Conrad agreed. He looked at Maddy and said, “What can I do for you? Your wish is my command.”

“Show him the ring,” Carvelli said.

Maddy held up the engagement ring and wiggled her fingers.

“Seriously? The lawyer? I have nothing more to live for,” Conrad said.

“You never did,” Maddy replied.

“When are you finished here?” Carvelli asked.

“Today. How did you know where to find me?”

“Your employer,” Carvelli said.

“Yeah, okay. I think he’s getting disappointed. I’ve been on this guy a week and so far, nothing. I think his injuries are legit.”

“You mean the poor, defenseless insurance company might actually have to pay? That’s a shame,” Carvelli said.

“Looks like it. So, what do you need?”

Conrad Hilton was the man’s name and he was an excellent electronic surveillance man. Conrad liked to brag he could bug a bug. It was only a slight exaggeration. He was also not averse to extralegal engagements if the price was right.

“We have an out-of-town gig for you,” Carvelli said. “Chicago.”

“Who’s paying?” Conrad asked.

“Someone,” Carvelli said.

“Who’s someone? I don’t know anyone named someone.”

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