James Patterson - Judge & Jury

"Because," said the witness, smiling,"it makes no sense for me to lie now."

"It makes no sense?" Kaskel scratched his chin again."Why?"

"Because if they catch me in a lie I stay in prison. All I have to do to get my sentence reduced is tell the truth. How 'bout that, Mr. Kaskel?"

THEY BROKE FOR LUNCH. Andie went out with O'Flynn and Marc, the crime writer, to Chinatown, a short walk from the courthouse in Foley Square.

For a while, as they picked at appetizers, they exchanged stories. Andie told them about Jarrod, about what it was like raising a kid in the city by herself. O'Flynn asked what it was like to work on The Sopranos, and Andie admitted she'd sort of stretched that a little bit:"I was an extra. I exaggerated to get off the trial."

"Jeez." O'Flynn stared at her glassily."Y'just broke my heart."

"John's been rewinding through five years of reruns trying to pick you out in the Bada Bing." Marc grinned, picking up a piece of bean curd with his chopsticks.

"So what about you?" Andie turned to Marc."What kind of stuff do you write?"

Marc seemed like a cool guy to her. He had longish, curly blond hair, a bit like Matthew McConaughey, and always wore jeans with his navy blazer and open-necked shirt.

"Couple of okay mystery novels-one was nominated for an Edgar Award. I did some CSI and NYPD Blue scripts."

"So, like, you're famous," said Andie.

"I know a few famous writers," he said, grinning."Am I making you nervous?"

"Yeah, I can hardly hold my chopsticks." Andie smiled."Look at them shake."

"So I gotta ask you guys." O'Flynn lowered his voice."I know we're not supposed to talk, but this Machia guy, what'd we make of him?"

"We make him to be one coldhearted sonovabitch," Marc said."But he does know how to get a laugh."

"He is a sonovabitch," Andie agreed,"but when he was talking about his friend, I don't know, I felt a different side of him starting to come through."

"I guess what I was really asking"-O'Flynn leaned in close-“is, do we believe him? In spite of all the shit he's done."

Andie looked at Marc. Machia was a murderer and a thug. He'd probably done a hundred horrible things he'd never owned up to. But that bit about telling the truth hit home, how he had nothing to gain from lying now.

The writer shrugged."Yeah, I believe him."

They both looked at Andie."Yeah, I believe him, too."

WHEN THE JURY CAME BACK from lunch, a behemoth of a man took the witness stand. He was probably three hundred pounds, and he was one of the least healthy-looking people I'd ever seen.

"Can you state your name," Joel Goldenberger stood up and asked,"and where you currently reside?"

"My name is Ralph Denunziatta," the heavyset man said,"and I currently reside in a federal penitentiary."

Suddenly there was an ear-splitting boom that seemed to shake the entire building.

Everybody jumped or covered their heads. It was under-the-table time. There were several loud cries. One of the marshals made a move toward Cavello. No one knew what was happening yet. I stood up and was about to jump over the railing to protect the judge.

Then the noise came again. From the street. Maybe a demolition explosion, or a truck backfire. Everyone looked around as the nervous gasps in the courtroom diffused.

The only one who hadn't moved was Cavello. He just sat there, looking around, concealing an amused grin."Don't look at me, " he said, and nearly everybody in the courtroom laughed.

The trial resumed. Denunziatta was about fifty, with a couple of double chins and grayish thinning hair; he spoke in a soft tone. Like Machia, I'd gotten to know him well. I was the one who had arrested him. I actually liked Ralphie, if you could like a guy who wouldn't shrug to see you dead.

Joel Goldenberger stepped up to the stand."Mr. Denunziatta, would you state your position in organized crime?"

"I was a captain in the Guarino crime family." He spoke in a hushed tone, eyes averted.

"Ralphie D.?" the U.S. prosecutor asked.

The witness nodded."Yes. That would be me."

"You have a college degree, don't you, Mr. Denunziatta?" the prosecutor continued.

"Yes, sir, I do. In business. From LIU."

"But you never got a regular job? You chose to dedicate yourself to a life of crime?"

"That's correct." Denunziatta nodded again. Ralphie's father was one of Cavello's henchmen when Ralphie was growing up."My father wanted me to become a stockbroker or get a law degree. But things were changing. The family was in some legitimate businesses-restaurants, nightclubs, food distribution-so I got involved with them. I thought I could avoid things, you know, the things everyone talks about-the violence, the dirty work."

"But you couldn't, Mr. Denunziatta, could you?" Joel Goldenberger asked.

"No, sir." The witness shook his head."I couldn't."

"And one of those things you couldn't avoid was involvement in the murder of Sam Greenblatt?"

"Yes," he said, locking his thumbs.

"And you pleaded guilty to playing a part in that crime, is that not correct?"

"That's correct," the witness said."I pleaded guilty to murder in the second degree."

"Why, Mr. Denunziatta? Can you describe your actual involvement in Mr. Greenblatt's death?"

He cleared his throat."Thomas Mussina came to me. He was a captain then. He reported directly to Dominic Cavello. He knew some people who worked for me owed the family a favor. Jimmy Cabrule-he had gambling debts. Also Louis Machia-he was looking to be made. He figured this was an opportunity."

"By ‘opportunity,'" the prosecutor stated,"you mean that if Mr. Machia participated in killing Mr. Greenblatt, he would be rewarded with being formally inducted into the family? Is that correct?"

"That's correct, Mr. Goldenberger."

"So, go on, Mr. Denunziatta. Did Mr. Cabrule and Louis Machia carry out this hit?"

"Yes, they did. In front of Greenblatt's home in Jersey. On the sixth of August, 1993."

"You seem to know the date well, Mr. Denunziatta. Were you there?"

"I was in the area," Denunziatta replied.

" In the area…? " Goldenberger cocked his head.

"I was in a car driving around the neighborhood, maybe two blocks away. I heard the shots. I saw Louis and Jimmy C. speed by. Louie's friend Stevie Mannarino was driving the vehicle."

"Was anyone else driving around the neighborhood, Mr. Denunziatta? At the time Mr. Greenblatt was murdered?"

"Yes, sir." The gangster nodded."Tommy Moose was driving around. In a gray Lincoln."

"Okay, Thomas Mussina was there. In a Lincoln. Was there anyone else in this car with Mr. Mussina?" the prosecutor asked.

"Yes, there was." Ralphie sucked in a breath."Dominic Cavello was in the car."

"How could you be so sure, Mr. Denunziatta, that it was Mr. Cavello in the car with Thomas Mussina?"

"Because they stopped and waved to me. A few blocks from the hit."

"But it didn't surprise you, did it, Mr. Denunziatta? To see him, the Electrician, there?"

"No, sir," the witness said.

"And can you tell the jury why?"

"Because Tommy told me they were going to be there the night before. He and Mr. Cavello. He said Mr. Cavello wanted to make sure everything was done just right."

Denunziatta looked up, as if drawn almost magnetically toward the defendant.

Cavello met his gaze with the most chilling, mirthless smile. It had finality to it. Everybody saw it. It was as if the temperature in the courtroom had dropped twenty degrees in a few seconds.

Go ahead, Ralphie, Cavello's smile seemed to say. Do what you have to do. When this has all played out, I'll find you.