Appellate Judge: A Jack Ludefance Novel

By Behcet Kaya

From the swamps of the Florida panhandle, once again emerges private investigator Jack Ludefance, in a murder/mystery/thriller novel by award winning author Behcet Kaya, titled "Appellate Judge." A key element in this case, in which readers are orbited into with a very subtle path of reasoning, revolves a

• Language: English
• Publisher: WorkBook Press
• Release date: Apr 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9781960752376

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Copyright @2023 by Behcet Kaya

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This publication contains the opinions and ideas of its author. It is intended to provide helpful and informative material on the subjects addressed in the publication. The author and publisher specifically disclaim all responsibility for any liability, loss or risk, personal or otherwise, which is incurred as a consequence, directly or indirectly, of the use and application of any of the contents of this book.

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REV. DATE: 01/31/2023

ALSO BY BEHCET KAYA

NOVELS

Voice of Conscience

Road to Siran

Murder on the Naval Base

JACK LUDEFANCE NOVELS

Treacherous Estate

Body in the Woods

APPELLATE JUDGE

By

Behcet Kaya

A JACK LUDEFANCE NOVEL

Copyright @ 2020 Behcet Kaya. All rights reserved.

The events and characters in this book are fictitious. Certain real locations are mentioned, but all the characters and events described in the book are totally imaginary.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Cover design by MiblArt

To my wife, Nancy

Edited

By

Lisa J. Jackson

There is no calamity greater than lavish desires.

There is no greater guilt than discontentment.

And there is no greater disaster than greed.

The Way of Lao-tzu

CHAPTER 1

Friday, October 6, 2017

The Honorable Judge Russell Hastings’ courtroom was located on the third floor of the Florida First District Court of Appeal in Tallahassee, Florida. He was part of a panel of three judges including Judge Paul Mattingly and Judge Andrew Runner. They had been working together as a cohesive team for many years.

In his late 50s, the judge had graying hair and a significant potbelly. With his Irish ancestry and love of good whiskey his face had taken on the familiar red splotches.

His private chambers were located behind his courtroom at the rear of the courthouse. To the left of his desk was a floor-to-ceiling window open halfway to his liking; a cool autumn breeze flowing in. To the right of his desk was the door to the courtroom, now locked. In front of his desk was the door to a back hallway which led down to the lobby. The door was secured and locked at all times with admittance acquired only by entering a security code which was changed frequently.

Sitting at his desk, his back was to a wall which contained a floor-to-ceiling credenza overflowing with his sports trophies, numerous law books, a framed diploma of his law degree from Harvard Law School, and his certificate of passing the Florida Bar Association. He’d commissioned an artist to draw a picture of him arguing a case before the Supreme Court and there was a framed Time magazine cover of him as well. To the right of the credenza was the door to his private bathroom.

On this particular day, after taking a final look at case notes left by one of his clerks, he leaned back in his leather chair, put one foot up on his hand carved El Salvadoran oak desk, and played his favorite song on his violin. The case at hand was an appeal by a large pharmaceutical company in a wrongful death lawsuit.

He vowed to himself, as he always did, to remain impartial even though he did not care for the large pharmaceutical giants. He believed they never operated with fairness, but rather were a greedy bunch, putting profit above everything else.

Judge Hastings checked his watch. Realizing he was now more than five minutes late returning to his courtroom, he set his violin down on his desk and gathered the notes into a file folder. He took another minute to use his private bathroom.

Coming out of the bathroom, the judge was caught off guard at a stranger looming over his desk.

But only for a moment.

He took in the intruder with all his senses, noting the person was medium height, slim, with an athletic build, and wore a dark sweater and dark pants.

What are you doing in here?

He tried to reach his desk for the always loaded and ready Smith and Wesson.

In a blink, the intruder moved behind him and with one hand pinned the judge’s arms behind his back; leaving him at the intruder’s mercy.

It then took only a few seconds for the intruder to grab the judge’s neck and pull his head backward in a secure grip. The judge struggled against the intruder; struggled against the feeling of being strangled. But at his age and with his protruding belly, he was no match for his adversary who was in top physical condition.

The intruder, still holding the judge’s neck in a vice-grip, was astonished when the judge’s body went limp, slipped, and fell to the floor.

Less than five minutes had elapsed. Judge Hastings’ lifeless body lay on the thick carpet and the murderer had vanished into thin air.

*****

Inside the courtroom, the lawyers and their assistants were seated at their respective tables. Behind the CEO of the pharmaceutical company were more lawyers, accountants, and vice presidents and their secretaries from subsidiaries in several states. On the defense side were the victim’s family and the law firm representing the class action lawsuit. The rest of the courtroom was filled with media.

Judge Mattingly and Judge Runner had entered the courtroom from their respective chambers at precisely 1 pm and were surprised not to see Judge Hastings. This formality of entering the courtroom as three was their protocol and very rarely deviated. They took their seats at the bench and Judge Runner asked everyone in the courtroom to be seated.

Where was Judge Hastings? People began to whisper and speculate. The noise grew louder as the minutes passed. Two minutes, three minutes, five minutes, ten minutes passed.

Still no Judge Hastings.

Finally, Judge Runner motioned one of the court clerks and a security guard forward and requested them to check on the judge. They both disappeared into Judge Hastings’ chambers.

When they returned, the security guard stepped to the bench and whispered to the two judges. Judge Runner, visibly upset, stood, and cleared his throat.

Ladies and gentlemen. It is with deep regret that I must inform the court of unfortunate circumstances. I will not mince words. The Honorable Judge Hastings has been found dead. Today’s proceedings will, of course, be postponed to a later date.

A roar of gasps and cries erupted from the courtroom. People stood ready to exit. Fear and panic rippled through the crowd. But Judge Runner was not finished and banged his gavel twice.

Order! Order in the court! Everyone will remain seated. No one will be leaving this courtroom until I give further instructions.

The courthouse went into immediate lockdown and standard procedures were followed to the letter. Police arrived within seven minutes and Judge Hastings’ chambers, now a crime scene, was secured. Each individual who had been in the courthouse that day was detained and questioned. Each and every one was cleared and sent home. Every employee was interviewed and gave a written statement to their whereabouts. All were accounted for.

Thus began the full-scale investigation of the murder of Judge Russell Hastings. With virtually no clues left behind by the killer, it was to become an arduous task.

The tragic murder of the highly respected judge rattled the Tallahassee community. Who would do such a thing?

And why?

CHAPTER 2

Saturday, October 6, 2018

My given name is Jacques Ludefance, Jack for short. If I had to describe myself? Mid 40s, six-foot-two, long face, high cheek bones, dark hair and mustache, and deep green eyes which have always been a hit with the ladies. On the downside, there is a deep scar on my right cheek, the slash extending from my eye to my lip that not even my deep tan can hide. When people stare, as they always do, my standard answer is short and simple. Alligator bite. Growing up in Louisiana, I did some crazy things as a kid. Tangling with alligators was one of them.

In my previous life, I was a navy pilot flying the Prowler. Currently, I’m divorced and work as a PI in Santa Rosaria, Florida. Almost two months have passed since closing my last case. I’d promised myself I’d take some time off and I had, except for a very easy case I couldn’t turn down.

I’d been contacted by a man over in Pensacola by the name of Kreshnik Toska, who requested my services for a personal matter. In my first meeting with him, I’d learned he was a violinist who not only played with the Pensacola Orchestra, but taught violin and was an avid collector. He explained that he and his wife were having issues with a neighbor’s teenage son harassing their little boy. The police were unable to be of any help. An almost grown teenager harassing a little boy didn’t sit well with me and I agreed to find a solution. It was simple to handle and Kreshnik was so grateful that I decided not to even charge him for my work.

Frankly, I was beginning to get restless. I’d decided not to buy another houseboat, nor did I attempt to buy the cottage which I’m still renting. Socking almost $350,000 from my last big case in different investment accounts, I kept $100,000 divided between checking and savings accounts.

Time seemed to come to a standstill and, yes, I was bored. I shouldn’t have been. The current love of my life and I were back together. But with Lee in her last semester of law school, her days were busy with classes and work, and her nights were spent studying. With her schedule, we were lucky to have even one night a week together.

With no case to immerse myself in, the days and nights dragged by.

Keeping my promise to my sister, Margeaux, I’d spent a week in New Orleans with her and Deloris, my father’s companion before he passed. They were living comfortably in my father’s home and slowly adjusting to his being gone.

Deloris, a widow, and my father met a number of years ago. They soon became inseparable and she moved in with him. Although they never married, she was his constant companion and then his caregiver as he fought Alzheimer’s. She was a kind, caring, and generous woman, now an integral part of our small family.

It had been nice to spend some quality time with them and reminisce about Dad. And it felt good to be with my family; to have these two wonderful women fuss over me. We enjoyed Deloris’ incredible home cooking and I took them out several evenings.

My sister was dating a new guy. I met him and had him join us one night for dinner. Seemed okay, but I promised myself to check him out without Margeaux’s knowledge. I didn’t want my sister to be taken advantage of. After some in-depth inquiries, he checked out just fine and I was relieved.

While I was visiting, Margeaux brought up the subject of taking a cruise. Not something I’d ever done and I wasn’t sure it was something I wanted to do. But both my sister and Deloris evidently had been reading up on different itineraries and were dreaming of taking a cruise through the Panama Canal. For several nights, that’s all they talked about.

When it was time to leave New Orleans and head back to Santa Rosaria, I decided to make another promise, to take them both on that damn cruise – and soon. I also wanted to include Lee, but that wasn’t going to be an option. I knew she couldn’t afford to take the time off from her classes. That, plus she was still working part time as a receptionist for my lawyer Dolaberitze.

After returning to the cottage, I called Lee just to be on the safe side and invited her on the cruise. She graciously declined as I knew she would. Her classes and work were her priority and I understood that. My next call was to a local travel agent. After explaining what I wanted, the agent suggested I come in and meet personally with her.

October 6 found me at the travel agency, sitting down for well over two hours, and discussing all the options.

The ‘where we wanted to go’ part was easy. Margeaux and Deloris had already decided. The next items were, when, which cruise line, and which type of cabin. The ‘when’ part was quickly settled. I told the agent as soon as possible. Time was not any problem. I was free, Deloris was retired, and Margeaux had flexibility with her job.

As for cruise line, since I’d never been on a cruise, it really didn’t matter to me. The type of cabin was the sticking point. Did I want adjoining cabins or a suite?

Since money wasn’t a problem the travel agent suggested a high-end suite. She said most cruise lines offered suites and proceeded to list the difference in sizes, amenities, and prices. It was mind boggling. Mind boggling to the point that I didn’t even want to pursue this trip anymore. I nearly got up and walked out of the travel agency, but I’d made a promise.

Giving the travel agent carte-blanche, she clicked away on her keyboard for nearly twenty minutes before recommending a 15-night cruise on Norwegian’s Encore leaving Sunday, October 14, at 5 pm. Our itinerary would take us from Miami to George Town, Cayman Islands, Cartagena, Columbia, Colon, Panama, through the Panama Canal, Puntarenas, Costa Rica, San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua, Puerto Quetzal, Guatemala, Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, and ending in Los Angeles on October 29. We would be traveling in style in their Haven two-bedroom family villa complete with balcony and a butler.

Butler?

When I asked what the butler was for she smiled and explained what his services included. My, my. A butler for a guy who grew up in the bayous of southern Louisiana. This was going to be very interesting. And ending up in Los Angeles was ironic. I’d just spent the better part of the summer there on my last case. Even so, I didn’t entertain any thoughts of getting in contact with Vance McGruder. It had been a difficult case from start to finish and there wasn’t any desire to rehash all that had happened.

With the departure date so close, I made a quick call to Deloris and Margeaux to get their approval. Their squeals of joy were my answer.

When the travel agent asked me which airport we’d be departing from to embark on the cruise, I made an off-the-wall decision to leave from New Orleans. I’d drive my car over and keep it in Dad’s garage while we were gone. There was also another reason for my making the drive and leaving my car there. On my last visit, I’d observed numerous items on the house that were in dire need of repair. An extra few days after the cruise would give me time to take care of them. Having my car gave me the flexibility to stay as long as I needed to get everything done.

With that decision made, the travel agent booked first-class tickets for our flights from New Orleans to Miami on the 13th, a suite at the Mandarin Oriental in Miami for the night of 13th, and return flights from Los Angeles to New Orleans on the 29th. When I handed over my American Express card, I wondered how much of a commission the travel agent was raking in.

That afternoon I made a trip to the local mall and bought myself a new black suit, white shirt, nice tie, and a pair of black dress shoes, along with four casual shirts and shorts.

Quite an expensive day. But, I’d worked hard and earned it. And it felt good to spend it on something that I knew Margeaux and Deloris were going to enjoy.

My enjoying the cruise?

Well, we’d just have to wait and see.

CHAPTER 3

Thursday-Sunday, October 11-14

By Thursday morning, October 11, I’d completed all the necessary items that needed to be done before leaving for several weeks. My roll-aboard was packed with a few necessary items, including my laptop, and a larger suitcase held all my new clothes. After putting the suitcases in the trunk of my RX7, I made a last-minute check of the cottage. Turning on the alarm, I locked the front door and headed to New Orleans.

Margeaux and Deloris were relieved and happy when I arrived. After lugging my suitcases into my old bedroom, my sister opened both of them and went through everything I’d packed. She laughed, shook her head, and said we were heading for the mall. I started to argue that I’d just been shopping, but my little sister is persistent.

What could I say? She’s my beautiful baby sister. She has impeccable taste in clothing and is very particular on dress codes. Me? I could live the rest of my life in my blue jeans and be quite content. But according to Margeaux, this cruise required much more than a couple of pairs of blue jeans and a new black suit.

At the mall, Margeaux helped me pick out several, yes several, new suits, shirts, ties, shoes, casual clothes, and to top it all off, a tuxedo. Me in a tuxedo? Now that was something to see. Looked like a glorified monkey suit to me, but my sister was beaming with pride as she circled around me checking every detail. Even with the salesperson, it had been a complicated process to try it on and I wondered how the heck I was going to manage by myself while on the cruise.

Friday, October 12, was spent packing and getting everything else ready that needed to be done. That evening I took Margeaux and Deloris out for our ‘bon voyage’ celebration dinner at Brennan’s in the French Quarter. Best creole cooking around.

Saturday, October 13, our suitcases were packed and we were ready to head to the airport. Margeaux had repacked both my roll-aboard and my large suitcase with all the new clothes she had convinced me I needed for this cruise.

As for Margeaux and Deloris? They each had two large suitcases and a roll-aboard. All told, eight pieces of luggage. I will never understand women and why they need to travel with so many clothes. Just more for me to load and unload, or so I thought. In this case, the taxi driver did the work, although he wasn’t too happy about eight suitcases and charged me double for his effort.

Leaving a day early gave us the peace of mind that we’d not miss our cruise. You never know anymore how flights are going to go. Luckily, we encountered no problems, no delays, and we arrived in Miami early afternoon.

Another taxi and another taxi driver with attitude about too many suitcases. What did he expect? This was a cruise port city. Checking in to the Mandarin we enjoyed an afternoon of swimming and gourmet dinner.

Late Sunday morning we checked out of the hotel and headed for the Port of Miami. I said a little prayer to the man above hoping that, since this was my first cruise, as well as for Margeaux and Deloris, this would be everything we hoped it would be. The check-in procedure for a cruise ship is truly a gargantuan affair that must be well-coordinated and timed. It’s not anything like boarding a plane with maybe a max of 300 people. Nope…this baby accommodated nearly 4,000 passengers, all wanting to get to their cabins, unpack, and start their cruise.

Our advantage was being in the Haven suite and having the services of our butler who met us as we completed check-in. He introduced himself as Wadsworth. He was clean shaven with a bald dome, full sideburns, and short hair clinging to the remainder of his head. He enunciated every word and I quickly noticed that he had a peculiar way of whispering the letter S that it almost sounded like he was whistling. Above all, he was the epitome of propriety. I’m rarely intimidated by anyone, but with Wadsworth? I came pretty damn close.

He made arrangements for our bags to be delivered and accompanied us up to our suite. Arriving at the Haven on deck seventeen, Wadsworth unlocked the double door and we found ourselves in accommodations far more luxurious than we could ever have imagined; two bedrooms and baths, a spacious living room, and a large balcony. After showing us around and answering our many questions, he left saying he’d be back soon. Margeaux and Deloris headed for the balcony to check out the Jacuzzi tub.

A few minutes later, Wadsworth returned, holding a silver tray with a bottle of Dom Perignon and three crystal champagne glasses.

Mr. Ludefance? I’ve brought your welcome aboard champagne.

Ah, yes. Of course. Margeaux? Deloris? Come see what’s here.

They came back into the living room with excited oohs and aahhs as Wadsworth popped the cork and poured the bubbly.

If there is anything you require please remember to ring for me first. I’ll leave you now to enjoy your champagne.

Ah, Wadsworth?

Yes, Mr. Ludefance?

Could you bring me two bottles of Samuel Adams?

Of course, Sir. I’ll be right back.

He was back in less than five minutes and while the girls enjoyed their champagne, downing the entire bottle, I savored my Sam Adams.

That first afternoon was filled with Wadsworth returning once again to take care of our unpacking. After everything was neatly put away, we acquainted ourselves with the ship and attended the mandatory life-boat drill. That evening, we enjoyed a sail-away cocktail party and a casual dinner.

CHAPTER 4

Monday-Thursday, October 15-18

Monday, October 15, was a day a sea. A day to adjust, slow down, and enjoy. To do everything or nothing, but most of all, eat. My challenge was to do exactly nothing.

Tuesday, October 16, we docked at our first port of call, George Town, Grand Cayman for a relaxing day on Seven-Mile Beach. I happened to start talking to a very nice lady by the name of Mercedes. It turned out she was there with her mother and father. Her father was recovering from a stroke and they’d decided no better time than right now to enjoy a cruise.

Too bad they weren’t on our ship. Her father was a retired naval pilot. I can’t emphasize enough how naval pilots are a different breed. Yes, I’m considered a naval pilot with all my flight time on the Prowler and I’ve completed numerous landings on carriers. Still, it’s not the same as being an FA/18 pilot and landing one of those babies on a carrier. Perhaps I still held a bit of a grudge about not having passed the requirements to fly the FA/18, but instead was assigned to the Prowler.

I introduced myself to her father, retired LCDR Hutchinson. He was having a challenging time speaking due to paralysis on the left side of his face. But he seemed to enjoy my questions and interest in his career. My heart went out to him.

His daughter, Mercedes, wanted to talk and talk. She was like an overflowing river. I sat and listened. What more could I do?

After Grand Cayman came another day at sea. Another lazy day and too much food. That evening was our first formal night and it would be my first experience with wearing a tuxedo. I knew I was going to have problems trying to put it on. Why on earth does any man in his right mind even wear one? Sticking my head out my door I yelled for Margeaux.

A few minutes later she knocked on my door and opened it.

What do you need, Jack?

I need help putting on this damn monkey suit! In fact, I don’t even want to wear it!

My dear brother, it’s not a monkey suit and you looked very handsome when you tried it on in the store. Call Wadsworth and have him help you. That’s what he’s supposed to do. And can you have him bring a bottle of Pinot Grigio and a chilling bucket?

"Pinot what?"

Pinot Grigio. It’s a white wine Deloris loves.

Sure…

After Wadsworth arrived, he expertly handled attaching the buttons which he told me were called suds, then the cuff links, bow tie, cummerbund, and finally helped me into the jacket. I couldn’t have done it without him. And, to my surprise, he mentioned the fact that he’d helped many male passengers