Back to Brooklyn

by Lawrence Kelter

  “In my case what, Your Honor?”

  “Stand up,” Whorhatz ordered. He got right in Vinny’s face and pummeled him like a drill sergeant. “Gambini, you’re soft and you’re undisciplined and all the alleged smarts you have in your head won’t get you through this hearing if you don’t learn to walk the walk. You’re a lawyer, aren’t you? Well, talk like one for God’s sake. And you snap to attention when I address you or you address me. Are you feeling me, Gambini?”

  “Yes. Your—”

  “Acta non verba,” he blurted, dismissing a verbal response before it could be uttered. “That’s an expression we use in the military. It means deeds not words. Now get back out there and prove to me that I didn’t just waste fifteen minutes of everyone’s time.”

  ***

  The DA stood. “Your Honor, the people call Detective Nirmal Parikh to the stand.”

  Parikh was spry. He reached the witness box so quickly that he had to wait several moments for the slow-moving court officer to swear him in.

  “Now, Detective,” Gold said. “You’ve been assigned to the investigation of Samuel Cipriani’s death, have you not?”

  “Yes, I have,” Parikh said.

  “And you’ve ruled the death a homicide?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Please tell the court what led you to arrest Theresa Cototi.”

  “Mr. Cipriani suffered a gruesome death and we were unable to locate a suicide note.”

  “And is that uncommon?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “Two face,” Vinny muttered.

  “So this was a clue to you that the victim’s death might not be a suicide?” Gold asked.

  “Yes, one of them.”

  “What happened next?”

  “A call came into the station.”

  “An unsolicited call?”

  “Yes. A witness had spotted the defendant on the roof moments after the victim fell. That’s when we interviewed Ms. Träsch.”

  “And she identified Ms. Cototi?”

  “Yes. We then obtained a warrant and searched the defendant’s apartment.”

  “And you found evidence there?”

  “Yes, the same model of Nike sneaker that made the impression on the rooftop that the crime lab had discovered.”

  “And then you made your arrest?”

  “Yes, but not before we discovered the presence of blood on the roof.”

  “Shouldn’t the crime scene investigators have discovered the blood long before that, Detective?”

  “No. We originally thought the death was a suicide and didn’t expect to find blood evidence. It appears that great effort had been taken to clean it up.”

  “The blood?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you found it anyway.”

  “Yes. With the use of Luminol.”

  “I see. Anything else?”

  “Yes. When the blood was revealed, we saw that something had been written on the rooftop near the ledge.”

  “In blood?”

  “Yes.”

  “The victim’s blood?”

  “Yes.”

  “Please tell the judge what the message said.”

  Parikh turned and made eye contact with Theresa. “The letters ‘TMC’ were written out. It looked to me as if the victim wrote those letters in an attempt to identify his murderer.”

  Vinny objected. “Calls for speculation.”

  “Sustained. Strike the witness’s response,” Whorhatz said.

  Gold directed a comment to the judge. “Your Honor, let the record show that the defendant’s initials are also TMC—Theresa Mary Cototi.”

  Chapter Forty-Two: A Good Ass-Kicking

  Vinny paced back and forth in front of the bench, never looking up at the judge. “And when you found the Nike sneaker in Ms. Cototi’s apartment, did it have blood on it?”

  “No.

  Vinny repeated Parikh’s answer with emphasis for the judge’s benefit, “No!” He racked his brain, searching for another damaging question but the well had run dry. “No further questions, Your Honor.”

  “Mr. Gold?” Whorhatz asked.

  “No additional witnesses, Your Honor.”

  “Fine,” Whorhatz said, deliberating mere seconds. “I find sufficient evidence to send this case to trial.” He set a date for jury selection that gave the attorneys a meager three weeks to prepare.

  Vinny watched Anthony Cipriani skulk from the courtroom like a hoodless version of the grim reaper.

  Lisa hurried to his side. “It’s all right, Vinny. You did all you could. We already knew the case was going to trial. You said so yourself.”

  “I know I did,” he said, his head hanging down. “It’s just that—”

  “Hey, listen, Mr. Attorney, this is what you signed up for—the reason you worked and sweated for ten long years. Did you really think the judge was gonna throw out the case just because Vincent LaGuardia Gambini was on the job? Stop feeling sorry for yourself. This is the way it’s done.”

  “Yeah. I thought we had a shot until they found Theresa’s initials written on the roof in the victim’s blood. Stuff like that’s pretty hard for the judge to ignore.”

  “So what?” she said. “This is legal procedure. It’s what you learned in Haller’s courtroom. You can’t skip all the steps and go straight to acquittal. I’ll tell you right now, if this is what you’re gonna go through every time you have a hard day in court, you can forget about marrying me,” she said jesting. “You think I want to look at that sad face night after night?” She opened her bag and pulled out her compact, forcing it into his hand. “Take a look at yourself. You look like death warmed over. No way I’m gonna spend my life with a miserable son of a bitch that looks like that. So would you please pull yourself together and show me what you’re made of?”

  “Yeah. Yeah. What’s eatin’ you anyway?”

  “I’ll tell you what’s eatin’ me. I just spent two months wondering if Billy was gonna get the electric chair and I ain’t going through that again. Leave your work at the office.”

  “Lisa, look around. I am at the office. It’s just that you’re here with me, watching me go through a tough moment.”

  “All right. Look, we got three weeks. We’ll figure it out. I looked this girl in the eye and I know she didn’t do it. She’s a victim in all this. All you got to do is figure out what really happened like you did for Billy.”

  He saw Judge Molloy at the back of the courtroom signaling to him. “There’s Judge Molloy. I think he wants to talk to us.”

  Lisa turned around and waved.

  “Come on,” he said.

  “Vinny, look at his expression. He don’t want to talk to us. He wants to talk to you. Go over there and talk to the man.”

  “Vincent!” Judge Molloy called out.

  Vinny approached with the demeanor of a whipped puppy. “Uh oh, I always know you’re pissed when you call me Vincent.”

  “I stopped in before,” Molloy said.

  “Before when?”

  “When Judge Whorhatz called you into his chambers. Now if I’m right, and I’m sure I am, my colleague, the ex-marine, probably dragged you into his office, bent you over, and broke his shoe off in your hind parts.”

  “Yeah, I know. The guy is kind of a ball break—”

  “I would’ve done exactly the same thing. Vinny, you can’t come into a senior judge’s courtroom throwing around dese, dem, and dose like you’re one of the Eastside Kids. I’m angry with you. I went out on a limb for you and told Judge Whorhatz that you were a tough young attorney with a sharp mind and a tenacious spirit. How am I ever going to be able to look him in the eye again?”

  “I’m sorry, Judge Molloy. I’m really sorry. It’s just that, well you know—old habits die hard.”

  “Oh yes? Well unskilled attorneys die pretty damn easily. I don’t ever want to see another show of disrespect in this courtroom or any other. Are you clear?”

  “Yes, Judge Molloy. I
’m clear.”

  “You’d goddamn better be. I entrusted you with the crucial task of defending a dear friend in a fight for her liberty. Don’t you dare make me regret having made that decision.” His eyes flashed angrily and he left.

  Chapter Forty-Three: Poor Defenseless Forest Creatures

  Vinny spotted Lisa coming down the stairs the next morning. She was ready and put together, her hair and makeup flawless. Her clothes fit as if they had been custom tailored.

  He was still in his nightclothes, his hair tousled, scratching his head, and yawning. “It ain’t hardly nine o’clock. Where are you going so early in the morning?”

  “I got a call from Gloria at the salon. She asked me if I could fill in today. She said a couple of her girls called out sick and she’s got a lot of appointments booked. I figure we could use the money.” She sat down next to him on the couch. “You bent out of shape over the judge’s decision or from gettin’ reamed by Molloy?”

  “Both, I think. Judge Molloy is really mad at me. I didn’t hardly sleep at all last night.”

  “You look exhausted. Maybe you ought a go back to bed for a while.”

  He looked at her haplessly. “You think he’ll get over it?”

  “Who, Molloy? Of course he will. Listen, Vinny, he knew who you were from the day he first listened to you fighting that traffic ticket. He knows you didn’t graduate from Cambridge. The man likes you for who you are.”

  “He implied that I sounded like a moron.”

  “No, he didn’t. Do you sound like one of those other polished ass-kissers? No. But that’s what makes you special. You don’t try to put on airs because that’s not who you are.” She thought for a moment. “It’s kind of like this…picture you’re in an elegant restaurant and you’re being served the greatest meal of your entire life. The décor is beautiful. The lighting is just right, you’re being waited on like you’re royalty, and the food is just out of this world. Now, I ask you, would you complain about a meal like that just because the table wobbled a little?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “Of course not,” she repeated. “Because it’s form over substance. You got the mind of a brilliant attorney. It just don’t come out of your mouth sounding that way. So, do you think anyone would complain about an attorney who won case after case just because he was a little rough around the edges?”

  “I guess not.”

  “Right. Trust me—Judge Molloy probably said a couple of things he didn’t mean because he was so upset. But I’ll bet what really ticked him off is you not doing the things you know you’re supposed to do.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like standing up straight and tall and addressing the court with respect, that’s what. Didn’t you learn nothin’ from the last murder trial? Molloy is harping over the same exact things that Judge Haller complained about. It’s not about how you sound, Vinny. It’s your attitude. These judges have worked their butts off to get where they are and you’re crapping all over them like they’re bums or something.”

  “Ya think so?”

  “I know so. The question is, do you know so?” She patted him on the leg. “I’ll make you a pot of coffee and then I gotta go to work. Gloria won’t be happy if I’m late. What are you gonna do today? I mean after you get your head out of your ass?”

  “Very funny, Lisa. I figured I’d call the DA’s office and get my hands on their files.”

  She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “You see—you did learn something from the last trial.”

  “You mean discovery?”

  “Yeah, discovery. And when you get dressed you won’t have to worry about the pants you’re gonna wear because you don’t have to finesse the DA by hunting some poor little defenseless doe-eyed deer. Don’t that make you feel good?”

  “I guess,” he said with uncertainty. “Besides, Gold don’t exactly strike me as an outdoorsy type of guy. I doubt he goes hunting anyway.”

  “And what makes you think that?”

  “Because, Lisa, the man is kosher. He needs a rabbi to supervise the slaughter.”

  Lisa grimaced. “I’m so glad you got my point.”

  Chapter Forty-Four: The Guy

  Joe looked as big as a house as he walked through the door of Barone’s Deli. He was wearing a quilted vest over a bulky fisherman’s sweater, his arms hanging at his sides like King Kong. “Hey, Barone,” he said. “Give me a large coffee, will ya?”

  “The usual?”

  “Yeah. Half coffee, half cream, five sugars.”

  “You know the cream and sugar cost more than the coffee. I should charge you extra.”

  “Oh yeah?” Joe said. “And I ought to buy my coffee at the place down the block where they don’t use the same coffee grinds to brew the coffee all day long.”

  Barone snapped a lid on the paper cup and handed it across the counter. “You’re lucky I like you so much or I’d piss in the cup.”

  Joe eyed his coffee suspiciously. “Seriously? You done that before?”

  Barone nodded. “You bet your ass. I mean only a few times over the years, but a couple of real miserable pricks got a free urine sample.”

  “But not me, right?”

  “No, Joe. Moron, would I tell you if you were one of the guys I did it to? You like to break my shoes but you’re not a prick. There’s a difference.” He planted his hands on the counter. “Anything else?”

  “Yeah. Cut me a chunk of crumb cake outta that tray you got back there and don’t be cheap. Cut me a nice size chunk.” When Barone turned to cut a square from the baking sheet Joe removed the lid and cautiously sniffed his coffee.

  “What are you all bundled up like that for? It’s cold outside, but it ain’t that cold.”

  Joe sipped his coffee. “I been out all day.”

  “How come?”

  “I’m looking for a guy.”

  “A guy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What guy?” Barone asked.

  “A guy. A guy. What difference does it make? A guy.”

  “Which guy?”

  “Someone Vinny’s looking for.”

  “Why’s Vinny looking for this guy?”

  “It’s for one of his cases. He don’t tell me all the particulars. He says, look for the guy, I look for the guy.”

  “Yeah? How is Vinny-Bag O’ Donuts?”

  “Vinny? He’s great. He just got back from Alabama. Won his first big murder case.”

  “Murder, huh? Marone. Don’t get me wrong, Joe, but, uh, I never saw your brother practicing that kind of law. I figured him more for an ambulance chaser.”

  “Oh yeah? He’s doing really good. He’s got cases coming out his ass. Gonna be a big-time lawyer, my baby brother.” Joe chomped into his crumb cake. “Hey, this is fuckin’ great,” he said with a mouthful of food, crumbs falling everywhere. “You do something different?”

  “Yeah. I started adding extra butter to the cake batter. Everyone focuses on the crumbs and don’t pay nearly enough attention to the cake part. Big difference, right?”

  “Fuckin-a. This is delicious.”

  “Your brother used to eat a ton of my coffee cake. All those years he was studying for the bar exam, he’d come in here with his books, buy a big coffee and a hunk of cake, just like you’re doing right now.” Barone grabbed a towel and wiped away the pile of crumbs Joe had deposited on the counter. “You gonna tell me about this guy or what?”

  “It’s just a guy. What do you care?”

  “Maybe I know this guy.”

  Joe pushed out his lips. “Oh yeah? You think you might know this guy?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. What’s his name? I see a lot a guys in here.”

  “Bald Louie.”

  “Bald Louie?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Really? Bald Louie?”

  “Yeah. You know him?”

  “Of course I know Bald Louie. I know everyone in this neighborhood.”

  “No shit?”

 
; “No shit.”

  “So where can I find this guy?”

  “How the fuck do I know? Do I look like the fuckin’ mailman to you or something? You want to find this guy? Pack yourself up in a refrigerator crate and mail yourself to his house.”

  “Ah. Fuck you,” Joe snapped, showing him the back of his hand.

  “No, fuck you. Bald-fuckin’-Louie don’t come in here no more.”

  “How come?”

  “Because, Bald Louie is not only a crazy bastard, he’s an ornery-fuckin’-prick. I served the jerkoff a steaming hot cup of Barone one day. Believe me. He don’t come around here no more.”

  Chapter Forty-Five: The Dreaded Tribunal

  Gloria’s was a small shop that catered mostly to neighborhood women. Lisa had gotten laid off at the end of the year because business was slow, but now with business on the upswing and some of the girls calling out sick…

  Gloria left Lisa to close up.

  She was exhausted and eager to leave, but she needed a few minutes to rest and sprawled out on a stylist’s chair, rolling her head from side to side with her eyes closed. She opened her eyes when she heard a tap on the window, looked up, and smiled. Her friend Mimi was waving furiously and dancing in place because of the cold. Lisa slid out of the chair, walked to the door, and unlocked it. “Where the hell have you been?” Lisa said scolding her as she wrapped her arms around her friend and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I ain’t seen you in a dog’s age.”

  Of all Lisa’s friends, Mimi was the least inhibited. Her skirt was beyond short, her heels were stilts, and when she unzipped her jacket, she flaunted a staggering amount of cleavage. “You look freakin’ great, Lisa. I guess you and Vinny had a ball down there in Alabama.”

  “A ball?” she answered cynically. “You got no idea. That place is the sticks. I got woken up at all hours of the night by giant whistles and squealing pigs at the stockyard next door to the hotel. And Chinese food, please, don’t even get me started.”