James Sheehan - The Mayor of Lexington Avenue

“Be careful there, Counsel. Remember who you’re talking to. Mr. Tobin, do you have a response?”

“Yes I do, Your Honor. The witness, in her response to a perfectly justifiable redirect question, did precisely what a witness is supposed to do: She described facts. No personal opinions, no personal conclusions, just facts as she knew them. ‘I was afraid’-fact. ‘Nancy Shea visited me and I told her what I just told the court’-fact. ‘Nancy Shea was killed right after she left my house’-fact, Your Honor,” Jack said, barely able to contain his anger as he spat out the last three words.

“Mr. DiCarlo, I agree that this evidence does not put your clients in the best light, but that’s your problem. You ventured down this slippery slope-not me and not Mr. Tobin. Your objection is overruled, your motion is denied, and your request for a mistrial is denied. Is there anything else?”

“No, Your Honor.” Jimmy had the distinctly recognizable look of an outclassed litigator.

“Then let’s proceed.”

Jack returned to the podium. “Ms. Lopez, why was Mr. Sanchez living in the house?”

“He and Dick Radek are both living there. They are retired Miami police officers and they are serving as bodyguards.”

“No further questions, Your Honor.”

Jimmy had managed to compose himself-he was nothing if not relentless-and was already on his feet approaching the witness, so the judge didn’t even ask him if he wanted to recross.

“This Nancy Shea-Mr. Tobin’s investigator-she was killed in a car accident, wasn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“An accident?”

“That’s what they say.”

“And the ‘they’ you are referring to is the county sheriff’s department and that’s a totally separate department from the Bass Creek police department?”

“Yes.”

“But you don’t believe that, do you?”

“No.”

“No further questions.”

Jack wanted the last word. “Your Honor, may I follow up? I only have one or two questions.”

“Make it quick.”

“Where is Joaquin Sanchez?” Jack asked Maria. She took the cue.

“He’s in the hospital. He was shot the other night when we were all out to dinner.”

“That wasn’t an accident, was it?”

“Objection, Your Honor.”

“Approach.”

“Was this man actually shot?” Judge Stanton asked, looking at Jack.

“Yes, sir,” Jack replied. “It was no accident.”

“Your Honor-” Jimmy started to speak but the judge stopped him. “Mr. DiCarlo, I’m inclined to agree with you that we can only try one murder at a time, but you keep opening these doors. I’ll tell you what, I’m going to sustain your objection and I’m going to instruct the jury not to consider these last questions about Joaquin Sanchez and I’m not going to let anybody ask any more questions. This has gotten way out of hand. Mr. Tobin, are you done?”

“Yes, sir. I’m resting.”

“Mr. DiCarlo, are you ready to start your case? Do you have any witnesses to put on?”

“I have at least two, Judge-and possibly two more. I’d like to start tomorrow morning, if possible. And I do have a Motion for Acquittal.”

“Okay. I’ll call it a day right after Mr. Tobin officially rests. Be here at nine o’clock tomorrow morning. Oh, and Mr. DiCarlo, your motion is denied. I’ll consider it only after all the evidence has been presented, including rebuttal evidence.”

“Yes, sir,” both men replied at the same time.

That afternoon, Jimmy DiCarlo and Clay Evans had a late lunch in Jimmy’s hotel room.

“I can’t believe you did that!” Clay Evans shouted as soon as the room service waiter had left.

“Did what?” Jimmy asked, knowing full well what Clay meant. “I had to beat her up on the stand.”

“You didn’t have to beat me up in the process. You had her-you just went too far. Now the judge is thinking I’m a killer. He’s going to send this case to the jury and I’m going to fry-I can see it in their eyes.”

“We’ve still got a chance.”

“What chance?”

“You could testify. You and Brume could say you never received that letter. You don’t know what Maria Lopez is talking about.”

“You still don’t get it, you stupid fuck.”

“Get what?”

“Tobin wants us to testify. He’s waiting. He’s holding something back. You can put Brume on if you want, but I’m not going anywhere near that stand. I’ll take my chances.”

Jimmy didn’t say a thing for a moment. He took an enormous bite from his corned beef sandwich, chewed it down, then looked across the table at Clay.

“There’s another way.”

“What’s that?”

“It involves you delivering one of those satchels of money to me. ”

“How much?”

“$250,000.”

For a moment the thought crossed Clay’s mind that Jimmy might have set everything up to get to this point. He’d already paid the son-of-a-bitch $200,000 for the worst fucking defense he’d ever seen. Nah, he’s not that smart. He just got out-lawyered.

“And what do I get for my money?”

“Well, in this case if you eliminate the prosecutor you eliminate the prosecution. Nobody else would have brought this case in the first place.”

“That’s certainly something Brume doesn’t understand. He’s tried to kill everybody but Tobin.”

“Are you sure it’s been Brume?” Jimmy asked.

“Who else could it be? Which makes me wonder why the fat little fuck is killing everybody. He knows something is coming. Where are all the fuckin’ honest people in this world?” Jimmy almost choked on his sandwich.

“If you’re interested, I could set something up for tomorrow morning,” Jimmy said, ignoring the tirade. “These guys are pros-they won’t miss. And you and I will be giving a press conference on the courthouse steps.”

“I’ve got nothing to lose. I’m a dead man anyway. All right, let’s do it.”

“You know the drill. It’s the same as usual. This time, however, you put a bag with $250,000 on your back porch at midnight.”

“Can’t you give me a couple of days? The banks close in two hours and it will take me over an hour to get to Miami.”

“No can do, Your Honor. These fellas aren’t exactly bankers. They deal on a cash basis.” Jimmy didn’t feel the need to tell Clay that his cut was a cool $100,000. That amount, combined with the $200,000 he was paid to handle the case, and things were starting to look up for old Jimmy regardless of the outcome.

Later that day Jimmy stopped by to see his other client, Wesley Brume. Although he’d given Clay a guarantee, it was always wise to have a fallback plan. In the unlikely event Jack Tobin showed up at court the next day, he needed Wesley Brume to testify.

Wes was much kinder than Clay Evans had been in his assessment of the day’s events.

“Things didn’t go too well there at the end, did they?”

“Nah, but it’s all part of the give-and-take of a trial. Tomorrow’s another day and we’ve got some surprises in store for Jack Tobin.”

“That son-of-a-bitch needs to be put in his place.”

“You’re right, Wesley, and you’re the man to do it,” Jimmy told him.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You’re the chief of police here in Bass Creek. The people need to hear from you. They need to know the truth. They need to know that Maria Lopez is a liar.”

“What about Clay? He’s a federal judge.”

“He’s a pussy. You know that-you worked with him for years. He doesn’t have the balls to walk up there, take the oath and speak up for justice. You do.”

The Grunt started scratching his head. Jimmy DiCarlo was sure right about him, but how the hell did Jimmy know him so well? He’d only talked to the guy one other time and that was a five-minute phone conversation. Clay had handled all the lawyer stuff, told him not to worry about it Whatever. Wes had no qualms about testifying. He figured he’d eliminated all the problems already. He could just call Maria Lopez a liar, say the letter was a figment of her imagination and be done with it. There was one thing he wanted to make sure of, though.