by Bill Sage
Linda turned the handle and partially opened the door.
Hamilton grabbed the edge of the door and said, “I meant no harm.”
She glared at him, wanting to get out of there.
Shaking his head, he said, “We shouldn’t let this disagreement destroy our business relationship. I am very, very sorry for my stupid conduct. You have to forgive me.”
Then he turned and started for the desk. “I’ll give you the new contract to look over, you read it and I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Linda didn’t want to even touch the contract. She pulled the door open, rushed out and ran down the hallway to the elevator. Took it to the garage level, got in her car and drove straight to Al’s house.
37
AFTER TALKING TO JAKE, ROTH had a glass of rye and thought about what he could do to keep Goldman from withdrawing. He couldn’t let that happen. Not now, his plan was working and the trial would be over in few days.
Looking ahead to tomorrow, if Goldman did make a formal motion to be relieved and Roth denied it, Goldman would have to finish the trial. But what if he defied Roth and still refused to represent Mangano? What could Roth do to enforce his order?
Putting him in jail would be self-defeating.
And even if Goldman begrudgingly continued with the trial, what if he stopped following Jake’s instructions?
Judge Roth needed to find a better way. A way of convincing Goldman that it’d be to his advantage to continue with the trial. But since Goldman didn’t seem to care what happened to him like other attorneys did, that would be difficult.
After thinking about it for a while, he turned off the TV and went to bed.
Roth had just fallen asleep when he heard a knocking noise coming from the front of his house. Then he heard Linda’s voice. “Al…Al, it’s Linda.”
He jumped out of bed and ran to the front door. When he opened it, Linda collapsed into his arms. “He attacked me…wouldn’t let me leave,” Linda mumbled. She buried her head into his shoulder, bursting into tears.
Pulling back his head so he could see her face, Al saw her Mascara-smudged eyes and bruised left cheek.
“What…what happened?”
“Hamilton,” she sobbed.
“Hamilton?”
“Kept coming at me…wouldn’t stop.”
He gently drew her closer, feeling her wet eyelashes on his cheek.
“Wouldn’t stop,” she said between sobs.
Imagining Hamilton molesting Linda, Al’s jaw tightened and a pain spread throughout his chest. He was angry and then had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. All he could think of was pounding Hamilton’s face into pulp.
But that would have to come later, couldn’t think about it now. This was the time to focus on Linda, comfort her and let her know it wasn’t her fault.
“Let’s sit down,” he said, leading her to the couch.
She sat down, he sat next to her then kissed her softly on the cheek.
She took a breath and after waiting four or five seconds, she told him about meeting Hamilton at Bernard’s, going to his office and what happened there.
As she went on Al gently touched her bruised cheek, then looked away. Didn’t want her to see the emotion splashed all over his face.
He hit her in the face. That thought kept running through his mind. In her face!
When she paused for a second, his emotions got to him. “That fucking asshole,” his voice low as if talking to himself. “He’s not gonna get away with this. There’s gonna be some serious pay—” He cut himself off before too much spilled out.
Linda sniffed her nose and blotted it with a tissue paper she took out of her purse. Didn’t show any reaction to what he’d just said.
“I was just thinking,” Al quickly added. “There’s a special place for guys like him.” Then he paused. “You know, somewhere…”
She blinked her eyes, seemingly oblivious to the portent of what Al first said about Hamilton. Then through sobs Linda went back to telling him what happened.
She finished, saying, “Then I ran to my car and drove over here.” She paused and looked down.
Al thought this would be a good time to let her rest. He got up and went to the bathroom and ran cold water over a washcloth. Brought it back to her.
While she held it against her cheek, he started a fire in the fireplace. Went back to the couch.
“You want a little blanket for your legs?” Al asked.
Linda smiled and shook her head, no. Al then sat down next to her.
As he listened to the gentle sounds of Linda’s breathing his mind was going a hundred miles an hour. Even though he kept reminding himself he needed to calm down and be objective, all he could think about was making Hamilton pay.
Yet he knew that would have to wait. The essential thing now was to make sure Linda got the contract. Once that was nailed down, he’d get back to planning his revenge against Hamilton.
Linda took the washcloth off her cheek and held it in her hand. “It doesn’t hurt too much,” she said with a faint smile.
Hearing her say that, Al had to get away and be alone for a minute. He stood up and said, “How about I make some tea?”
“That’d be great.”
Al went to the kitchen and took out a tea bag. As he filled a teapot with water, he thought, That motherfucker’s a dead man.
He made her a mug of tea and poured a splash of Apricot Brandy into it. Brought it in to her.
“Just like my bubbie used to make,” he said. Grandmother.
She looked at him and smiled. Then after two or three sips her lower lip quivered and she turned toward Al. “He said…” She stopped and took a breath. “He called me a 'fucking Jew.’”
Al bit down but kept silent.
Linda drank more tea then blotted her nose. “There’s something else too. I wasn’t going to tell you.” She seemed reluctant to go on.
He looked her in the eyes.
She put her hand on Al’s arm. “I know how you are, so I was going to keep this to myself. But I think you should know.”
Al kept still, letting his head fall back against the back cushion still looking at her.
“He said you wouldn’t… You didn’t have the nerve to go after him. That Jews were cowards and if you did do something, he’d take us both down.”
“Hmm, so that’s what he thinks?” Al said, thinking that Hamilton was making it too easy for him.
They sat quietly for a while. Linda drinking her tea and Al imagining how good it would be to slowly torture Hamilton.
When Linda drank the last of her tea, she put it on the coffee table. After a few more minutes of silence, she said, “So now what? What’s next?”
He took her hand in his.
Before he could say anything, she said, “I got to go to the police, report it.”
“I’ve been thinking about this, how to handle it.”
He paused and looked her in the eyes.
“Listen to me. Let me finish before you say anything.”
“Okay,” she said softly.
“I think it's best if you don't tell anybody. Not the police, your dad, nobody. I’m going to handle this for you, everything, the contract and whatever else needs to be done.”
Roth was thinking that if she went to the police, then she’d lose the contract. It would also cut off any real possibility of Roth getting revenge, which was something he’d definitely do. If something did happen to Hamilton and no one knew anything about the assault on Linda, no suspicion would fall on him.
There’d be no connection to him or Linda.
“Not going to the police? Are you sure?” Linda said, frowning.
“Yes. What good would it do?” He paused and stared at her. “Think about it. If you don’t report it, you won’t have to go through filing reports, taking photographs, maybe a physical examination, publicity, being defamed by Hamilton’s office. You name it.”
“But it doesn’t seem right. I don’t feel
good about it. I mean—”
“Honey, I know what I’m talking about. I deal with this kind of stuff every day.”
“I don’t know…”
Al put his arms around Linda and held her tight, then pulled back. “You know I’m right. We can get everything we want without any problems or inconvenience. We just have to…wait it out and see what happens.”
Linda thought about it for a moment. “If I don’t go to the police, I hope that means I won’t have to deal with him anymore?”
“That’s right, you won’t. I’ll take care of everything.”
She looked at him, remaining silent.
As they sat there for a few minutes, just thinking, a spark flew out and landed on the travertine floor. It scared Linda for a second and she jumped a little.
They both laughed.
Then Al said, “I think what's going to happen is that he'll probably try to contact you. But don't talk to him or anyone else who calls on his behalf.” He paused briefly. “I think he'll then try to get in touch with me. Then I'll handle it from there.”
Linda nodded and seemed to relax a little more. They sat quietly, listening to the sounds of the fire, talking, caressing each other, holding hands.
A few moments later she picked up her mug and said, “Can I have some more tea?”
“You got it.” He went to the kitchen and prepared another mug of tea. Then as he handed it to her, he said, “All this drinking tea is making me thirsty.”
“Getting some tea for yourself?”
“Are you kidding?” he said, staring at her.” Then after a pause, “Single malt, what do you think.”
She smiled, the first real smile of the entire night.
38
THE NEXT MORNING, GOLDMAN MADE it to court for the trial. His cheek was bruised and puffed-up, his lower lip twisted and scabbed. Looked like he hadn’t slept. His hair didn’t look like it had been combed.
“Jeez, what happened to your face?” Wilcox said.
“Nothing. I fell. Won’t be able to continue with the trial. I’m in constant pain, can’t concentrate on anything. It wouldn’t be fair to Mangano.”
Wilcox grimaced. “Sorry you had the accident.”
“The stairs.”
“The problem is it’s really gonna screw up the trial.”
“Got no other choice.”
Goldman told Judy that he and Wilcox had a serious matter they needed to discuss with Judge Roth in chambers before the trial resumed.
Ten minutes later, Judy said, “Judge Roth is ready to see you. Just go back.”
The attorneys went into chambers and sat down. Goldman told Roth and Wilcox that he’d fallen going down the stairs. Said he had constant pain in his jaw, suffered from dizzy spells and headaches.
“I’m popping pain pills, every couple of hours. My mouth, really bad. Gotta see my dentist.”
“I can see you don’t look too good,” Roth said.
Wilcox quickly glanced at Roth then went back to focusing on Goldman, who was saying it’d be impossible for him to continue with the trial.
“It wouldn’t be fair to my client,” Goldman said. “He deserves to have representation from an attorney who can devote all his thoughts to the trial, not one that’s distracted by pain and discomfort.”
“I’m sympathetic, but this will really foul up the trial and it may have to be reset,” Wilcox said. “We’re near the end. Mrs. Madden is my next and last witness. I mean…”
“Maybe Art Jameson, the attorney who had the case before me, can come back in,” Goldman said. “He’s familiar with the facts, wouldn’t take him long to get ready.”
Judge Roth said he was reluctant to interrupt the trial and pressured Goldman to continue. “You gotta find a way of staying, we’re near the end.”
“I won’t be long with Mrs. Madden. Maybe 10 or 15 minutes,” Wilcox said.
“Were you going to put on Mangano?” Roth asked.
“Don’t know yet,” Goldman said.
“How long would that take, anyway?” Roth said.
They went back and forth.
Goldman seemed stressed. He kept glancing over at the door then back at Wilcox.
“What, something you want to say,” Wilcox asked.
Goldman took a breath. “Craig,” he said in a soft voice, “would you mind if I talk to Judge Roth alone?”
He paused. “Please.”
Wilcox said he had no problem with that, got up and went into the courtroom.
Goldman looked at Roth and nodded in the direction of the door.
“Sure, that’s okay.”
Goldman got up, closed the door, returned to his chair.
Roth wondered whether he was going to level with him or continue to lie his way through.
“I didn’t fall, Your Honor,” Goldman said. “I was beaten by one of my ex-clients. I’m scared and just want to leave California for a few months. It’s not just this case, I have to get away from everything.”
“One of your former clients?” Roth asked with a surprised look. “What happened, the jury found him guilty?”
Goldman grimaced then looked away.
A short pause.
“He’s a wiseguy,” Goldman said.
“What’s his connection with this case?”
“Nothing, Your Honor. It’s just happening during this trial.”
“So you’re saying you need to get away from him period, this case or not.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
Judge Roth got up and poured himself another cup of coffee. “Would you care for a cup?”
“No, Your Honor. I’ve had three cups already.”
“Any trouble sipping?”
Goldman managed to force out a smile.
“You put me in a tough spot,” Roth said returning to his desk. “I understand your situation, but I can’t jeopardize Mr. Mangano’s right to a speedy trial by interrupting his representation right in the middle of it. I need you to stay on the case. We should finish soon, anyway.”
“Believe me, I’d like to stay, but I’m afraid this guy will come after me again. He acts like an animal. You should see him…”
“But it’s not going to be fair to the DA’s Office. The People have rights too.”
Goldman didn’t respond.
“Are you sure you really want to do this?” Roth asked. Then after a pause he said, “You’re just going to abandon your client? Right near the end of the trial?” Roth thought that would get him thinking.
“I gotta do what I gotta do, Your Honor.”
“Have you given written notice to Mangano and the DA’s Office?”
“No, Your Honor. I’m not sure of the procedure, and of course I will comply with the court rules.”
“Well, Mr. Goldman, I can tell you this. I’m not going to relieve you as counsel unless you follow proper procedure. You’re going to have to continue with the trial at least for today.”
“I understand.”
“What’s this guy’s name?”
“Jake.”
That’s the first true thing you’ve said. “Jake what?” Roth asked.
“Some Italian name. I don’t remember. I’ll check.”
“Is he part of the LA mob?”
“Yeah.”
Roth rocked back in his chair. “What did the police say?” he asked, knowing the answer.
Goldman sat still, looking down at the floor. “I didn’t go to the police.”
Giving him a perplexed look, Roth said, “Why not?”
“What are they going to do? I don’t even know his address.”
“Forgive me for saying this, but this is all sounding a little fishy.”
Goldman took a breath. “The last thing he said was that he’d kill me if I went to the cops.”
“You’re making it impossible for me.”
“I realize that, but I didn’t bash in my own face.”
“I know that, but your story… It’s farfetched, hard to believe.”
<
br /> “It’s the truth, Your Honor.”
“Okay, we got to get back to the trial. There’s nothing we can do today.”
Goldman gave Roth a half-hearted nod.
“When you come in tomorrow, I want the full name of this guy, his address and phone number. You may have good cause to be relieved, but you understand that I’ll need to see some supporting evidence.”
“I understand that. I just hope I still have all the information on him. But Your Honor, there’s no other way, even if I don’t have the information you want, I gotta leave California.”
“I can help you get the information. Give me the court file number, maybe I can track him down. I can do it through the court. I’ll put some clerks on it. We’ll get it done.”
“Okay, Your Honor. I’ll have all the information tomorrow.”
Goldman walked out of chambers and entered the courtroom. He sank into his chair and opened his briefcase.
“He should be coming out soon,” Goldman said to Wilcox and Judy.
Wilcox was standing near the railing, talking to Sergeant Collins. “We better sit down,” he said.
They took their places at the counsel table.
Mangano was brought out from the lockup, then Jon led the jury back into the courtroom.
39
WHEN JUDY LET ROTH KNOW they were ready, he put on his robe and took the bench.
“Ladies and gentlemen, as you can see Mr. Goldman has had an accident,” Judge Roth said. “Just in case some of you are wondering, it had nothing to do with this case.”
Roth had a slight grin on his face. No one else smiled, except Jon.
“Don’t speculate about what happened and don’t let his appearance interfere with your listening to the testimony.” Roth paused as he looked at the jury. “Any questions?”
No one said or did anything, except one juror who shook her head, indicating no.
The next prosecution witness was his Joyce Madden.
Wilcox's direct examination went smoothly and he seemed satisfied when Roth turned her over to Goldman for cross-examination.
Goldman thrust his chair back and stepped to the railing back behind the counsel tables.
