Back to Brooklyn

by Lawrence Kelter

  “No, why?” he replied from the upper landing.

  “Because we got what looks like a prostitute and her pimp coming up the front steps,” she said in an offhand manner. “There something you want to tell me?”

  Vinny hustled down the steps in his sweats, rubbing his eyes. “Yeah, you’re always complaining how I’m not so exciting to be with. I figured I’d spice things up a little.” He peeked out through the window. “It’s Hercules.”

  “Yeah? Who’s that wearin’ the coochie-length micro-skirt? His virgin sister escaped from the fuckin’ convent?”

  “That, my dear Ms. Vito, is what’s known as a gold package, delivered in under an hour, and guaranteed to please.”

  “Yeah? Please who?”

  He ignored her and unlocked the door. The woman shuffled in first. “Mr. Gambini?” she asked as she extended her hand. “I’m Giselda. We spoke on the phone. It’s so nice to meet you, papi.”

  “Giselda…of course.”

  “Hercules told me all about you.” She pressed her frozen cheek to his before moving on toward Lisa. “You must be Lisa, right? My God, you’re really beautiful.” She kissed her on the cheek as well before rubbing her hands together. “I ain’t wearing too much under my jacket. You got a hot cocoa or something? I feel like I got icicles between my legs.”

  “I’ll bet that’s different,” Lisa quipped as she looked her over. “I love your jacket. Real fox?”

  She grinned. “I sure am.”

  Lisa snickered and led her to the kitchen.

  Hercules entered a moment later.

  “Come in. Come in,” Vinny said in a hurry to shut the door to prevent the bitterly cold air from entering the house. “You got it?”

  Hercules handed him a brown paper bag, then blew into his cupped hands to warm them. “Everything you wanted, Mr. Gambini.”

  “That’s great. Have a seat.”

  Hercules settled into an armchair.

  Vinny opened the bag and removed a baby food jar without the label. Within it was a tissue stained with a drop of blood. Vinny smiled. “You did real good, Hercules, but what’s with the baby food jar?”

  “Giselda’s kid goes through like a million of those a week. She sterilized it and figured it was a good way to transport the evidence.”

  “Smart girl. How much do I owe you for your very special package?”

  “Nothing, Mr. Gambini. We’re in business together. Besides, Giselda said Cipriani was a piece of cake. She was in and out of his place in no time.”

  “I see. You’d think a big important guy like that would have more staying power.” He noticed another jar in the bag. “What’s this?”

  “Backup.”

  “Backup?” Vinny asked. He removed the second baby food jar that contained a milky translucent substance. He grimaced. “Tell me this ain’t what I think it is.”

  “Yeah, Mr. Gambini, Giselda does everything one hundred and ten percent. She saw how small the bloodstain was and was worried it wasn’t enough to be analyzed. After she bit his lip she went down on him and drained him like a dollar store battery.” He smiled so wide that Vinny could see every one of his teeth. “She did good, huh?”

  Chapter Sixty-Eight: Subterfuge

  It was 9:00 a.m. sharp. Joe barged into the Brooklyn Area Community Supervision Office and marched up to the reception counter. “I’m here for a meeting with my parole office—only I forgot his name.”

  The elderly woman peeked at Joe over the top of her glasses. “Are you serious, young man?

  “Yeah. I’m serious. I don’t wanna be marked down that I missed my appointment. So do me a favor and look it up for me. I think his name is Ray or Jay but I ain’t sure.”

  She shook her head in disbelief and tapped on the computer keyboard. “Name?”

  “Bald Louie.”

  She looked up at him, squinting, examining his thick head of hair. “Did you say, ‘Bald?’”

  Oh shit! He gulped. “Medical-fucking-science—what a blessing.”

  “Lucky you. Name?”

  “Eh. Sorry. Rolfe, Louis Rolfe.” He waited patiently while her fingernails clattered away on the keyboard.

  “Your parole officer is Ray Stanz, but he’s out of the office. Are you sure your appointment was for today?”

  “I thought it was. Where’s his office? I’ll wait for him.”

  “You’ll have to sit in the waiting area until he gets back. But are you sure you want to do that? He may be out for the day.”

  “Yeah, okay. Maybe waiting around ain’t the best idea. You got his business card? I’ll call him and check on my appointment.”

  “Wait here.”

  Joe watched her walk down the corridor noting the office she’d entered. He pretended he wasn’t watching when she returned with the business card.

  “Here you are, Mr. Rolfe.”

  “Yeah. Thank you. You’ll let him know I was here?”

  “Yes, I will.”

  “Um…thanks. Can I use the can before I go?”

  “You mean the restroom?”

  Joe nodded.

  She handed him a key that was attached to a foot-long wooden ruler and pointed to the restroom.

  “Thanks. Be right back.”

  Joe sauntered off in the direction of the men’s room but never made it there, instead taking a detour to Ray Stanz’s office. He quietly closed the door and switched on the lights.

  Chapter Sixty-Nine: This Is Gonna Make Your Fuckin’ Day

  Vinny had spent the wee morning hours doing research and arrived at the courthouse early for the 11:00 a.m. scheduled start time, his arms weighted down with heavy reference books too cumbersome to fit into his briefcase. He was amazed to see that his brother Joe was already there waiting for him.

  “You kicking ass in here, Vin?”

  “Doing my best to hold my own,” he said. “You got anything for me on Bald Louie?”

  “I just went through his parole officer’s filing cabinet. Came straight here when I was finished.”

  “You’re kidding. How’d you manage that?”

  “I got my ways, Vin. I’m not completely useless.”

  “Joe, no one ever said you were useless. Anyway, I only got a few minutes before court begins. What did you find out?”

  “Bald Louie ain’t kept a one of his scheduled appointments in over a month. There’s a warrant out for his arrest. I really wanted to find him for you but that’s the best I could do. I know you’re kind of running out of time.”

  “That’s all right. You did really good, Joe. Anyway, I think I got this under control.” His face was mired in thought.

  “What is it?” Joe asked excitedly. “You figured something out?”

  “Yeah. Well…maybe. Before you go, you got the name of Bald Louie’s parole officer? Just in case.”

  “Yeah, of course I got it.” He reached into his pocket and handed him Ray Stanz’s business card.

  He gave Joe a love tap on the jaw. “That’s perfect, Joe. I got this. Thanks.”

  He pulled out his phone and dialed the number on the card as Joe headed off. “Mr. Stanz?”

  “Yes. Who’s this?”

  “My name is Vincent Gambini. I’m an attorney.”

  “How can I help you?”

  “I’ve been looking for a guy who goes by the name Bald Louie. You probably know him as Louis Rolfe. I think he’s a rehabilitated former offender under your supervision. Is that right?”

  “I’m looking for him too, Mr. Gambini. He’s been AWOL for weeks.”

  “Yeah, I thought so and I kind of got an idea of where you might be able to find him. Got a minute?”

  “Sure. I’m listening.”

  “Well then this is what you’re gonna have to do.”

  ***

  Lisa had dropped Vinny off in front of the building and driven off to park the Caddy. She entered several minutes later and headed straight for the ladies room. She reemerged afterward and was taking off her coat when she heard a
distinctive voice coming from down a side corridor. She pressed her back against the wall and peeked around the corner so she wouldn’t be seen. She covered her mouth to suppress her own voice, “Holy shit!” She reached into her purse for her trusty pink camera. “Wait until Vinny sees this,” she whispered in astonishment and she snapped off a succession of shots.

  ***

  Vinny’s phone rang just as Whorhatz entered the courtroom. He pulled it out of his pocket and saw that the caller was Aidan Boydetto, the client he’d helped weeks earlier. He turned away from the bench and buried the phone between his jacket and his chin trying to hide it from the judge. “Yeah,” he answered impatiently. “Mr. Boydetto, I’m in court. Can I call you back?”

  “Okay, sure, Mr. Gambini, but it’s important. I’ve been following your trial on the news and I’ve got something you’re going to want to see.”

  “Okay.” He could feel Whorhatz’s eyes burning right through him. “I’ll call you right after court.” He hung up and stashed his phone.

  “Important call?” Whorhatz asked with a scowl.

  “Yes, Your Honor…sorry.”

  “You know they have a new app for people who use their cell phones at inappropriate times.”

  “I ain’t heard about it. What’s that called, Your Honor?”

  “It’s called Respect.” He huffed and turned to the court officer. “I believe Mr. Cipriani was on the stand when we adjourned.”

  Cipriani took the stand once again and was reminded that he was still under oath.

  “Mr. Gambini, you may cross-examine the witness.”

  “Mr. Cipriani, let me first offer my condolences on your brother’s untimely passing. It sounded as if the two of yous were close.”

  “Very close,” he clarified.

  “Very. Right. I got that…If I remember correctly you said that he actually saved your life.”

  “Objection,” Gold said. “Asked and answered, Your Honor.”

  “Objection sustained,” Whorhatz said. “Let’s try to avoid repetition, Mr. Gambini.”

  “Your Honor, a little leeway, please. I’m pursuing a line of questioning.”

  “Very well, Counselor, but make your point and move on.”

  “You said that he donated his bone marrow to you and that it saved your life because you had leukemia.”

  “Yes, I already said that,” he snapped.

  “Just to refresh everyone’s memory would you mind saying it again?”

  Cipriani glared at Vinny defiantly, then from memory rattled off what he’d said the previous day, almost verbatim, “I had childhood leukemia. The doctors tried everything but nothing worked. I thought I was going to die. Sam gave me some of his bone marrow and it saved my life.”

  “Thank you. No further questions at this time. Your Honor, I’d like to recall Dr. Clark Kent.”

  Gold furrowed his brow. He turned and scoured the courtroom. “Your Honor, Dr. Kent is not in the courtroom.”

  Whorhatz sighed and banged the gavel. “Then we’re adjourned. Round him up, Mr. DA. Time is money.”

  ***

  “Thanks, I’ll be waiting for you.”

  “Who was that?” Lisa asked after waiting for Vinny to get off the phone.

  “You know that guy I represented, the one who passed the bum check?”

  “You mean the guy who thinks he’s Lindsay Lohan?”

  “Yeah. Well he says he’s been following the trial on TV and he’s got something he thinks could really help the case.”

  “But he didn’t say what it was?”

  “No, not exactly—a picture of some sort. He said I got to see it.”

  “They reach Superman yet?”

  “Yeah. Unfortunately he’s not gonna be able to get here until tomorrow morning so we’re gonna adjourn for the day.”

  “Is that gonna mess up your cross examination?”

  “No, I’m hoping for some stuff to fall into place anyways, so the delay might work to our benefit.”

  She swept the hair off his forehead. “A night’s sleep did you a world of good. You got that gleam back in your eye and I can tell that you’ve got something up your sleeve, don’t you?” she asked with an impish grin. “Whatcha got, Vinny?”

  “I ain’t one hundred percent sure yet but I’ll know the minute I get The Man of Steel back on the witness stand.”

  “It’s something big though, ain’t it?”

  “Maybe, Lisa, I got all my fingers crossed.”

  “Well I got something too.”

  “You got something?”

  “Yeah. Yeah I do.”

  “More tire marks?” he asked with a sly grin.

  “Better. Come with me.” She grabbed him by the arm and led him down the corridor. “You know how you’re always busting my chops because I take too many pictures? Wait until you see the pictures I got now.”

  They were on their way when Vinny spotted Parikh. “Lisa, give me two seconds. I got to ask the detective something.” He reached into his briefcase for the baby food jar he’d gotten from Lopez and hurried after the detective.

  “Hurry up,” she said. “Because this is gonna make your fuckin’ day.”

  Chapter Seventy: The Quintessential Vinny

  The lighting hadn’t been upgraded nor was the sun shining with greater intensity than the day before. Yet for some reason Vinny felt as if the courtroom was somehow brighter when he entered the next morning. Whorhatz was on the bench scowling, Cipriani was glowering, and Theresa was once again dabbing at tears. And yet he felt as if he had it all under control. He approached Dr. Kent with a renewed sense of confidence. “What am I wearing?” he asked with a smile.

  “A suit?”

  “No,” Vinny said. “I mean under the suit. Am I wearing boxers or briefs?”

  Whorhatz cast a sneer, threatening like an impending storm.

  “Sorry, Judge. Just trying to lighten things up. Dr. Kent, the last person to sit in that seat, Anthony Cipriani, stated that his brother, the now deceased Samuel Cipriani, literally saved his life by donating his bone marrow. Did you hear him say that?”

  “Yes, when he testified the other day.”

  “So what I said was an accurate account of what he said, is that right?”

  “I believe so. Yes.”

  “Good. Well I ain’t no expert in the field of genetics or the forensic sciences like you are, but I just spent the last twenty-four hours studying my butt off and—”

  “Is there a question in this, Counselor?” Whorhatz asked.

  “There is, Your Honor. If you’ll just give me a minute.”

  “Continue.”

  “Like I said, I’ve been studying and it seems to me that if Samuel Cipriani donated his bone marrow to his brother Anthony, then even to this day, Sam’s DNA would still be floating around in Anthony’s blood. Would you or would you not say that’s correct?”

  “Yes. That is correct.”

  A low murmur went through the courtroom.

  “It is? I mean yes, it is.” He paused while he made eye contact with the members of the jury. When he continued, he spoke in the tone of a seasoned orator. “And isn’t it possible that in performing a standard DNA analysis that the crime lab may have mistakenly confused Sam’s blood with Anthony’s because his blood contains Sam’s DNA as well as his own, even though they’re not identical twins and were not conceived from the same fertilized egg?”

  Kent labored a while before responding. “In an unequivocal match of one hundred percent of the loci, no. But the standard law enforcement testing only matches thirteen loci.”

  “And in matching only thirteen loci could the police lab have mistaken the blood of one brother for the other? I mean in this case where one brother received the other brother’s bone marrow?”

  “But, Mr. Gambini, the standard thirteen-point match gives one in one hundred and thirteen billion odds of a false—”

  Vinny wagged his finger admonishing the esteemed doctor. “Uh. Uh. Uh. That ain’t wha
t I asked. A simple yes or no will do.”

  Kent sighed. “Regretfully…yes.”

  Vinny echoed Kent’s response with a resounding, “Yes,” as the court filled with oohs and ahs.

  Vinny noticed Cipriani place his huge hand on Gold’s shoulder. “The hell is going on here, Mr. Gold?” Cipriani asked. “You have this under control or not?”

  Whorhatz banged his gavel. “Are you conducting your own trial, Mr. Cipriani?”

  “No, Your Honor.”

  “Mr. Cipriani, this is a court of law and your position in the mayor’s office affords you no special treatment in this trial.” He pointed the gavel at him. “You will remain silent during these proceedings unless you are called upon as a witness and are addressed by me or one of the attorneys. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Your Honor. It won’t happen again.”

  “Good.”

  “Your Honor,” Gold said. “Mr. Gambini is attempting to confuse the jury with his thinly veiled aspersion that Deputy Mayor Cipriani may have played a hand in his own brother’s death. I ask that his entire cross-examination be stricken from the record, and the jury be instructed to disregard what they’ve heard.”

  “Mr. Gold, whether your opponent is trying to confuse or elucidate is a matter for the jury to decide.” He turned his head askew, staring at Gold with a far-off look. “Was that an objection? A challenge? I’m not even sure what that was. Are you feeling all right, Mr. Gold?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “I’m almost sorry to hear that. At least a raging fever would explain that amateurish outburst.” He shook his head. “Mr. Gambini, you may continue.”

  “No further questions for Dr. Kent, Your Honor. I recall Greta Träsch.”

  Vinny saw Cipriani slam the back of Gold’s chair with his hand.

  Gold stood. “May we request a recess, Your Honor?”

  “Now? Just when things are getting interesting?” the judge asked.