Back to Brooklyn

by Lawrence Kelter

  “I think so.”

  Vinny reached into his pocket for a business card. “So what went wrong with the operation? Was she left with a horrifying permanent disfigurement? Is she in chronic pain? Is she unable to work as a result of the botched surgery?”

  “No, none of that. My wife lost all interest in sex right after the surgery.”

  “What kind of surgery?” He pointed to his groin. “Did they take out some of her vital working parts?”

  “No, he removed her damn cataracts. Gave her twenty-twenty vision.”

  Vinny bit his lip and slid his business card back into his pocket. “You know, I’d leave that one alone if I was you. It sounds like a tough one to win.” He spotted Lisa returning from the ladies room. “Oh thank God.”

  “Excuse me?” the man asked.

  “I just meant, thank God the old girl is still in good health.” He jumped up and made good his escape.

  “What did that guy want?” Lisa asked.

  “He wanted to know if he could sue his plastic surgeon.”

  She took a hard look at the man and literally recoiled. “Son of a bitch. I’d take that fuckin’ case if I were you.” She fussed with his tie. “You got your opening statement memorized? I think it’s really, really good.”

  “I think so. I’ve been reading it over and over. I just hope it sunk in.”

  “I think you’re gonna be great. Like I been saying, you learned a lot from Billy’s murder case in Alabama. You’re much more experienced now.”

  “You really think so?”

  “I know so. Judge Molloy obviously thinks so as well or he wouldn’t have told Theresa to hire you. Just don’t go getting your ass thrown in jail again. We can’t afford it.”

  He checked his watch. “Time to go in. Wish me luck.”

  She kissed him on the cheek and with a smile said, “Break the other fuckin’ leg.”

  ***

  Gold stood, buttoned his suit jacket, and strode toward the jury. “Your Honor. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Theresa Cototi is a killer! And the evidence in this case will show you that the person she pretends to be is not who she really is at all.

  “On February twenty-sixth of this year, on a frigid evening at approximately four o’clock in the morning, Ms. Cototi willfully murdered Samuel Cipriani by maliciously and premeditatedly pushing him off the roof of eighteen-fifty-nine Cropsey Avenue, the eight-story apartment building in which she maintained a permanent domicile. You will also learn that the victim was a rehabilitated prior offender recently released from prison after paying his debt to society over a period of seven long years.”

  “Yeah,” Vinny snickered. “Or you could just say he was an ex-con.”

  Whorhatz narrowed his eyes at Vinny but didn’t challenge him.

  Gold scanned the jury to determine their individual reactions before approaching the jury box and resting his hand on the railing. “You will hear the testimony of an eyewitness who positively identified Ms. Cototi and placed her on the roof of eighteen-fifty-nine Cropsey Avenue with bloodstains on her clothing, mere seconds after the victim was pushed from the roof. You will also hear that the victim fell to his death and landed on the avenue where an unidentified driver hit Samuel Cipriani and ran away in a most heinous fashion after causing him further physical injury. You will also hear testimony from forensic experts positively proving that Ms. Cototi indeed murdered Samuel Cipriani. We’ll establish her motive for carrying out this monstrous and selfish act of wanton violence. Lastly, you’ll be shown a photograph of the victim’s ghastly last message in which the victim undeniably named his killer.

  “Now, the defendant’s counsel will very skillfully attempt to cast an illusion, an illusion showing that the evidence is nothing more than circumstantial. He’ll attempt to discredit our eyewitness, and he’ll try to convince you that the killer’s motive is just not true. But in all this there is one thing that cannot be denied and on this you must remain focused—and that’s the sad fact that Samuel Cipriani lost his life at the young age of twenty-eight—a man who had learned the error of his ways, who wanted nothing more than to reestablish his place in the community and carve out a small slice of happiness for himself. And now he’s dead. Why is he dead?” He pointed a finger at Theresa. “Because that woman killed him! Thank you.”

  “Mr. Gambini…if you please,” Whorhatz said.

  Vinny turned to Lisa and saw that she looked worried. He rubbed his throbbing temple, patted Theresa’s hand, and stood. “Your Honor and ladies and gentlemen of the jury.” He filled his lungs. “This here is nothing more than a case of mistaken identity. In other words, they got the wrong guy. Um…woman.” He was encouraged that most of the jurors laughed at his premeditated quip. He approached and faced them squarely, shoulders even, eyes focused, looking for the one juror he could most easily sway. “The experts will tell you that the most common and yet least reliable evidence in a criminal murder case is the testimony of an eyewitness. The experts will also tell you that the appeal of determining who the guilty party is, is really, really strong. And because of that really, really strong appeal, the experts will tell you that a person who looks like the culprit, is likely not to be the actual culprit at all. Now the DA and his team of seriously accomplished attorneys has no doubt labored long and hard to come up with a motive, a made-up story explaining why my client did it, but that ain’t nothing more than fiction, dear. Sorry. Um…I meant ladies and gentlemen of the jury.” He got another laugh out of them and it bolstered his confidence. “It’s what we guys from Brooklyn call baloney.”

  The jurors laughed yet again.

  Gold objected but wasn’t quite sure of the reason to give. “Your Honor…”

  Whorhatz grinned. “Overruled. Mr. Gold. Mr. Gambini, at the risk of disappointing the jury, please try to be a little less…colorful in your attempt to discredit the prosecution.”

  “Absolutely, Your Honor.”

  “Good. Proceed.”

  “Now the DA has spared no expense in preparing for this trial and will march a long list of ‘experts’ in front of you. And the reason he’s gonna go to such great lengths is because he ain’t got nothing. So he’s gotta parade all these academic types in front of you hoping you’ll be impressed with their credentials.” He stopped and rubbed his chin, presumably in thought. “Let me ask you a question. You know how you get a little cold symptom, so you do tons and tons of research to figure out what it is, right? And at the end of doing all that investigation, you start thinking that you’ve got some terrible disease, and you start worrying and worrying? Or you’re perfectly healthy but you read this long article on a debilitating disease and when you finish reading it you’re one hundred percent sure that you’ve got it too?” The jurors began to murmur in agreement. “The DA is gonna attempt to do just that. He’s got no case so he’s gotta make one up and try to sell it to you as the truth.”

  He felt confident that he’d found the one compassionate juror he could connect with, Mrs. Faraday, a black woman with a kind face and a warm smile. He continued on, addressing them all but actually speaking to her and her alone.

  “In summation, their witness didn’t see what she thought she saw, no motive exists, all the expert opinions you’ll hear will only corroborate circumstantial evidence, and…these mysterious last words from the victim are nothing more than random letters and don’t prove nothin’. The only thing Theresa Cototi is guilty of is that she loved her boyfriend so deeply that she remained faithful to him while he did his time. Thank you.”

  Vinny felt confident that he had planted the seeds of doubt in every juror’s mind and made a solid first impression with his plain talk and humor. He couldn’t suppress his smile as he walked back to the defense table, but it disappeared when he saw tears streaming down Theresa’s face.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven: You Checking up on Me?

  “Good work today, Counselor. I’m feeling much more at ease about entrusting you with the responsibility of defending my dear
departed friend’s only child.”

  Vinny recognized his mentor’s voice and spun around, smiling. “Judge Molloy, I’m surprised to see you here again. You checking up on me?”

  A barely perceptible nod of the head indicated that he was. “And I liked what I saw today. You were prepared and to the extent of your ability you were eloquent as well. That was as fine an opening statement as I’ve heard in my thirty years on the bench. You touched the jurors and they responded to you.” He patted Vinny on the shoulder. “But as trials go, you’re at the very beginning and I don’t foresee a sprint to the finish line. I hope you’re prepared for a marathon, Mr. Gambini.” He raised a questioning eyebrow.

  “I am, Judge Molloy. I learned a lot from my first murder trial.”

  Lisa stood behind the judge just off to the side, basking in the praise he lavished on her fiancé. When he finished speaking, she approached him and kissed him on the cheek. “There’s my favorite judge.”

  “Ah, the lovely Ms. Vito, a pleasure as always.”

  Lisa blushed before resting her head on Vinny’s shoulder. “He did good today, didn’t he?”

  “He certainly held his own against a very formidable opponent. DA Gold is as sharp as they come but I have the feeling Vinny is going to give him a run for his money.” He checked the time. “I have to be seated in a few minutes.” He doffed an imaginary cap. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  Vinny watched him disappear through the doors at the back of the courtroom. “What a great guy.”

  “You owe him a lot, Vinny. I hope you won’t never forget it.” She flicked his earlobe affectionately. “You were really great out there today. You kicked the DA’s ass.” She grabbed him and pressed her lips to his cheek. “Let’s go celebrate. I’ve got money from the beauty parlor. Let’s go someplace special for dinner.”

  He’d told her about his chance encounter with Sal Sauseech as well as all the subsequent developments that had unfolded the evening before. “Yeah, okay, but I wanna talk to Joe first. It could really strengthen the case if we can track down this Big Donna that Sal told me about. If we find out something useful, maybe Joe can do some legwork for me when I’m in court tomorrow.”

  “Sure. We can stop by Joe’s place right after we hit the Cotillion. Maybe he’ll want to come out with us. I’m proud of you for giving him the money to turn the electricity back on.” She kissed his cheek again. “It shows you ain’t selfish. You think he’s gonna sell the house?”

  “I think so. Only he’s gotta talk to my folks first. He said he was gonna talk to this realtor again today to get a better handle on what she thought we could get for the place.”

  Across the aisle, Gold and Doucette packed up their things. The normally affable DA bounded from the courtroom without saying goodbye.

  ***

  Reporters on the courthouse steps mobbed Vinny and Lisa as they left, each jockeying for position. Vinny was a bit overwhelmed by the onslaught of reporters stalking him.

  The most determined reporter pushed through the crowd, the foam-covered tip of her microphone mere millimeters from Vinny’s face. “Mr. Gambini,” she said. “Lena Kyle with ABC News. What was the atmosphere in the courtroom on the first day of trial?”

  Ordinary women had no effect on Vinny but Lena Kyle exuded a powerful sexuality he found impossible to ignore. Taken off guard he blabbed, “About eighty degrees. They got the heat turned up way too high.”

  The inadvertent quip took the reporters by surprise causing them to laugh. Lisa elbowed him and pointed at the news camera. “Vinny, you’re gonna be on TV,” she whispered. “Don’t fuck it up.”

  “Seriously, Mr. Gambini,” Kyle said. “What was the mood?”

  “Um…tense. I think. Yeah. It was tense. After all, an innocent young woman is on trial for murder. So naturally everyone’s all worked up.”

  Kyle pursued him, drawing so near he could practically feel her body against his. “Are you intimidated by the deputy mayor and the fact that you’re defending the woman accused of his brother’s murder?”

  “Intimidated? No, I’m not intimidated. I might be if I had the slightest suspicion that my client was guilty, but she ain’t.”

  “You seem very sure of yourself,” Kyle said, putting her hand on Vinny’s arm.

  Lisa watched the exchange with the trained eye of a woman watching another woman making a move on her man.

  “You know I can’t discuss the case with you but I’m sure the facts will speak for themselves, and there ain’t no way the DA, as smart as he is, is gonna be able to deceive all twelve jurors into believing my client is guilty.”

  Lisa had the instincts of a professional campaign manager. She yanked Vinny by the arm and hollered, “Thank you. No more questions.”

  “Hey? Why’d you do that?” Vinny said. “I had a lot more to say.”

  “I know,” Lisa replied as she hustled him away. “You can thank me later.”

  Chapter Fifty-Eight: Big Donna

  Vinny looked around examining the catering hall décor. The Cotillion’s marble floors had yellowed and the gold leaf on the figures in the circular fountain had long ago corroded—as a result, water spouted from the mouths of angels that looked as if they had leprosy. Life forms yet undiscovered by modern science were evolving out of the primordial ooze at the bottom of the fountain.

  “What do you think of this place?” he asked as he admired the chandelier.

  “For what?” Lisa asked, her nose wrinkled.

  “For our wedding.”

  “In this dive? Vinny, you’ve got to be kidding. I wouldn’t be caught dead in here. It looks like Europe after they bombed the crap out of it.”

  “I don’t know—I don’t think it looks so bad.”

  “You got about as much chance of marrying me in here as Quasimodo does of getting to first base with Taylor Swift.”

  “All right. I get it. The place ain’t good enough for you. I’m sorry I brought it up. Maybe I’ll phone the queen and see if Buckingham Palace is available.”

  She was sneering at him when someone called out. “You here to book a wedding date?”

  They looked up to see an amazon of a woman in barman’s attire drying a wine glass with a dishtowel.

  Lisa snorted. “My wedding? Here? I don’t think so.”

  “Stop it,” he said out the side of his mouth. “I think that’s her.” He called out, “You wouldn’t by any chance go by the name of Big Donna, would you?”

  “Yeah, I would. How can I help you?”

  Donna noticed her shirt was wet and her bra was grinning through the cloth, which drew attention to her oversized chest. She used the dishtowel to dry the wet spot.

  Lisa whispered aside to Vinny, “I bet she didn’t buy that bra off the rack.”

  They approached but were held at bay by Donna’s enormous bosom, which was about level with Lisa’s nose.

  “Everything’s custom, babe.”

  Lisa turned red. “I guess you heard me. I’m really sorry.”

  “Ha. Don’t give it a second thought. I’ve been lugging these things around with me since I was fourteen—believe me, I’ve heard every wisecrack in the book.” She dabbed at the wet spot one last time. “I used to think I was hot shit when I was developing as a teenager and all the guys were following me around with their tongues hanging to the ground. Look at me now—I can barely squeeze these things through the airport metal detector. Forget about using the onboard lavatory. Thank God for cell phones—If I had a buck for every time I had to be rescued from a phone booth…”

  “I’m sorry to hear about your…logistical dilemma,” Vinny said. “I’m sure it ain’t easy being as amply endowed as you are.” He offered his hand. “My name is Vincent Gambini. I’m a lawyer, and this is my assistant, Ms. Vito. You mind if I ask you a few questions?”

  “What’s this about?” she asked suspiciously.

  “I’m a defense attorney and I’m looking for a guy who might be able to help me win a murder case.”r />
  “A murder case? Who got whacked?”

  “That ain’t real important. What is important is that my client is innocent and the information this guy might have could help set her free.”

  “What’s this guy’s name?”

  “Someone you were allegedly involved with years ago…someone called Bald Louie.”

  “That two-timing twerp? We didn’t exactly end on the best terms.”

  “So you ain’t seen him since he was released from prison? We understand he’s been out of the joint about six months.”

  “Oh, I’ve seen him. The leech knocked on my door the same day he got sprung, crying about how he had nowhere to go and how much he loved me.”

  “How’d you handle that?” Lisa asked.

  “One night,” she said, holding up her pointer finger. “Him on the couch and me locked in my bedroom with a Louisville Slugger. He figured I’d be happy to see him and throw him a welcome-home booty call, but I didn’t want any part of him. Who knows what he could’ve picked up in the joint? I wouldn’t go near him if he was wearing a radiation suit.”

  Lisa nodded. “Smart move, Donna. They got bugs now that can’t be killed with an atomic bomb.”

  “So you got no idea where he might be?” he asked.

  “No. But the jerk gave my phone number to his parole officer as his contact. I’ve been getting calls twice a week all month long. I don’t think Louie’s been keeping any of his appointments.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to know the parole officer’s name, would you?”

  “Jay something I think.” She mulled it over. “Or maybe it’s Ray? I can’t remember. Here…” She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. “I added the phone number into my contacts under: Don’t Answer. That way I know enough to ignore the call when I get it.”

  Vinny wrote down the number. “Thanks a lot.”

  “I hope it helps.”

  Lisa smiled at her as they headed off. “Thanks, Donna…and good luck with your future air travel.”