The Mayor of Lexington Avenue jt-1

by James Sheehan

  “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.

  “You did check with the Del Rio police department, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, they have no record of a letter. The man who would have sent the letter is coming tomorrow. He’s going to say he doesn’t remember sending the letter and it’s not in his files anywhere.”

  “All right then, I’ll testify. I don’t have anything to lose, do I?”

  Except your life, you idiot, but Jimmy simply said, “Not at this point.”

  Forty-eight

  Dick saw the setup long before it started to unfold. They had already left the ranch and were on the back roads heading towards town. It was almost eight and the sun was up. Jack and Pat were in the back seat, Jack going over his notes, hoping that this was the day he had been waiting for-the day he got to cross-examine both Wesley Brume and Clay Evans.

  Dick and Joaquin had planned out three separate routes to town that they alternated taking. Along those routes, they knew every turn in the road, every side road, every leaf that was out of place-every place where an ambush could be possible. When Dick rounded a turn and saw a car protruding from a side road up ahead, he instantly knew something was going down.

  “Jack, get the guns.”

  “What?”

  “Get the guns!” Dick shouted. “They’re going to hit us up here.” Pat had moved and Jack was scrambling to get the AK-47s from under the back seat. “A car is going to pull out in front of me,” Dick told them very calmly but quickly. “As soon as I stop, a car is going to pull in behind us. Jack, stick your gun out that porthole like I showed you and start shooting as soon as they get out of their car. Wait until they get out. You want to hit somebody. I’ll take the front car. I’m going to try and kill a few people and then I’m taking off. So be ready. Pat, you stay down.”

  Jack handed Dick a gun and put the nozzle of his gun through the back hole. He waited.

  Everything happened in slow motion, and everything happened exactly the way Dick described it. The car he’d seen ahead pulled out, blocking the road. Dick put on the brakes, and another car pulled out from another side road behind them, blocking the rear. Three men got out of the front car, Uzis at the ready, and started shooting. The bullets ricocheted off the Mercedes. Dick returned fire through his front porthole, killing all three men. Meanwhile, two men had gotten out of the back car, firing as they emerged. Jack fired back, hitting one of them. Suddenly, the Mercedes lurched forward as Dick rammed the Cadillac in front of them, moving it just enough so he could maneuver around it. Then he sped away.

  “Do you think they’ll follow?” Jack asked, keeping a sharp eye out the back window. Pat was still on the floor.

  “No,” Dick replied calmly. “They don’t know what hit ’em. They’ll stay and lick their wounds.”

  Jack helped Pat up and they looked at each other with expressions that said, What the hell just happened? It felt like a dream. And here they were, almost as if nothing had happened, continuing their ride to the courthouse.

  At around the same time, on the courthouse steps, Jimmy DiCarlo, flanked by his two clients, was wrapping up a half hour impromptu press conference, during which he once again predicted that his clients would be vindicated.

  Jimmy had a habit, every morning before the proceedings started, of going to the courthouse men’s room to primp. This morning was no different. Jack had not arrived yet, so he was sure everything had gone as planned. He was combing his hair in front of the mirror when, seemingly out of nowhere, Dick Radek was standing beside him. They were alone.

  Dick spoke to the mirror. “If someone even bumps into one of my people from now on, I’m going to kill you.”

  Jimmy kept his cool and looked at Dick like he was a piece of dirt in his path.

  “Get out of my way,” he said as he started forward, attempting to brush the smaller man out of the way. In an instant he was against the wall, with Dick Radek’s left hand covering his mouth and his right hand holding a pistol to Jimmy’s left temple. It had a silencer attachment. Jimmy had the sudden urge to pee even though he had relieved himself moments before.

  “I’m going to kill you, tough guy. Not your clients,” Dick snarled through clenched teeth. “Do you want to be able to spend the money you’ve been making off these assholes?” Jimmy’s eyes were bulging out of his head as he tried to nod his head up and down ever so slowly. “Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to take your cell phone and call whoever you need to call and tell them it’s off.” Dick took his hand off Jim
my’s mouth and moved away, now pointing the gun at Jimmy’s chest.

  “Now?” Jimmy asked, almost whining.

  “Right now.” Jimmy dialed a number. A few seconds later, he said, “It’s over. Call everybody off.” And hung up the phone.

  “I am one of many,” Dick said calmly. “You know how the game works. If something happens to me or to any of my people from this date forward, you are a dead man. You will not be able to run. You will not be able to hide. And you will not be able to spend your money. If you think I’m bullshitting, tough guy, try me.” Dick turned and walked out of the bathroom.

  Inside the courtroom, Jack was setting up his table for the day. He noticed that Clay Evans was eyeing him with a surprised look.

  “Why, Mr. Evans, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Jack said. Clay Evans looked away.

  Just then Jimmy DiCarlo walked in the courtroom. It wasn’t Jimmy’s typical entrance. His face was pale and he looked a little disheveled.

  “What the hell’s going on here?” Clay whispered when Jimmy sat down next to him.

  “I don’t know. It looks like we’ve had some complications.”

  “What about my money?” Clay asked. Jimmy just shrugged.

  “Don’t worry. It’s not over,” Jimmy lied. It was over for him. He had his money.

  Just then the judge walked into the courtroom. He had wanted to talk to the lawyers alone in open court but he hadn’t gotten the word to the bailiff in time, and the courtroom was now full.

  “Counsel, will you approach?” Jimmy and Jack came forward. Jack had to keep himself calm. He didn’t dare look at the man standing next to him, the man he knew had tried to have him murdered that very morning. Instead Jack concentrated on Judge Stanton and listened as he delivered another near-fatal blow to his case. “I’ve been thinking about this all night and I’ve decided to reconsider and grant the defense’s motion for a mistrial.”

  Jack immediately concluded that they had somehow gotten to the judge. He wanted to scream but he said nothing. “This record is too much of a mess,” the judge continued. “We’re only three days into this trial. I’ve ordered another panel of potential jurors up this morning and we can start over again in an hour. That should give you time to notify your witnesses. Jack, I know you have Charley Peterson in from out of town-has he left yet?”

  “No, Judge.”

  “Good. We can go on Saturday if you want. By Saturday evening we should be where we are today. As I said, it’s only a three-day delay. Jack, you don’t call the prosecution’s case a lie in your opening and you make sure Ms. Lopez doesn’t talk about what everybody in the neighborhood knew about Geronimo Cruz. Mr. DiCarlo, you don’t ask Ms. Lopez where she lives and who she lives with-understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” Jimmy couldn’t control his enthusiasm. He didn’t notice the judge was calling Jack by his first name.

  “Good. I hate to do this, but we need to have a fair trial and we need to have a good record for appellate purposes.” He looked right at Jack as he spoke the words. “And a three-day setback isn’t all that bad when you take everything into consideration.”

  Clay Evans was somewhat happy about the new trial but he couldn’t get it out of his mind that he had just spent $250,000 for nothing.

  They picked a jury on that Thursday, and on Friday and Saturday Jack put on the same case all over again. It wasn’t as spontaneous as before. No gasps from the peanut gallery-everybody knew what was coming. Jack called Maria in order this time, and he took away the force and effect of Jimmy’s cross of Charley Peterson by establishing on direct examination that Charley had been disbarred. It made Charley seem a whole lot more credible. But Jack lost all the evidence about Nancy’s murder and Joaquin being shot-evidence that had only come out because of Jimmy DiCarlo’s incompetence. He still liked his chances, though, when he finished up on Saturday.

  “We’ll see you all on Monday morning,” Judge Stanton said when Jack rested. The old man was becoming more relaxed and familiar with the lawyers, at least with Jack, and Jack became convinced that the mistrial was truly to clear up the record. Was the judge going to let this case go to the jury? He didn’t know that yet. But the judge had given him the opportunity to try his case.

  Jack spent Sunday out at the ranch with Pat. They went for a long run in the morning, something they hadn’t been able to do. When they returned they had the house to themselves. Maria was still staying at the hospital with Joaquin, and Dick was off playing cowboy with Steve Preston.

  Dick had really taken to the ranch life. Every opportunity he had lately he was on a horse or over working the cows with Steve’s ranch hands. There was a rumor floating around that Steve had a sister who had lost her husband a few months ago and was staying out at the ranch, but it was just a rumor. Jack couldn’t even remember where he heard it.

  “Joaquin told you,” Pat reminded him. “Just before he was shot.” They were lying in bed relaxing after a long love-making session. Something they both had been missing.

  “So you think he likes going over there because he likes being a cowboy, or is it the sister?” Jack asked the expert. It was nice talking about the mundane.

  “Oh, I think he likes being a cowboy, but the sister’s definitely in the mix.”

  “How do you know?”

  “It’s just the way he prepares to go over there. He always takes a shower. His jeans are always clean. I saw him plucking his nose hairs the other day.”

  “Ouch!” Jack exclaimed. “That’s too much.”

  “You wouldn’t do that for me?”

  “I’ve got one of those battery-operated things that does the job,” he said matter-of-factly. “But if plucking was the only way, I’d absolutely do it for you.” He grabbed her up in his arms and squeezed her and they both had a good laugh. And then he kissed her because she was so close. And then he touched her because she was so close. And then he kissed her again and again. .

  “What’s going to happen tomorrow?” Pat asked later, when they had made it as far as the kitchen for some sustenance. It was two o’clock in the afternoon and Jack was eating oatmeal.

  “I don’t know. Nothing may happen. He may not put on a case at all.”

  “What do you hope happens?”

  “I hope both Brume and Evans take the stand. I’ve set this case up that way all along. I think Jimmy wants to put them on. The shootout the other day is a pretty good indication that they’re nervous. Monday should be an interesting day.”

  The press must have sensed something dramatic was about to happen, or maybe they were there just because the trial was winding down, but there were reporters from all the major networks and CNN outside the courthouse. Everybody wanted an interview, and Jimmy DiCarlo tried to accommodate them all. Jack slipped into the courthouse through the side entrance.

  “Fireworks are going to fly today,” Jimmy told one and all but he wouldn’t elaborate. “You’re just going to have to wait and see.”

  Jimmy was becoming very comfortable in front of the cameras. So comfortable that he began to envision himself as one of those talking legal heads.

  The judge entered the courtroom promptly at nine. Everybody was seated and waiting for him.

  “Anything before we call in the jury?” Nobody said anything. The judge for some reason had a queasy feeling. “All right,” he said to the bailiff. “Bring in the jury.” The fourteen jurors filed in. When they were seated, the judge faced Jimmy DiCarlo.

  “Counsel, you may proceed. Call your first witness.”

  Jimmy stood up. “Thank you, Your Honor,” he said, sounding like he was about to make a speech. “The defense calls Jack Tobin to the stand.” Pandemonium broke out in the courtroom. Everybody was talking. Jack checked the jury out. They were watching the peanut gallery. They had become what they were supposed to be-observers of everything.

  Jack was probably the only one in the courtroom besides the defense who wasn’t surprised. He’d anticipated it as a possibility.
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br />   The judge was desperately trying to restore order. He had taken some heat in the press for kicking everybody out the other day and he was determined not to do that again.

  “Silence! Silence! Do you want to leave this courthouse?” All the time he was banging the gavel. It took a full five minutes and four bailiffs to restore order.

  “Counsel, approach the bench.” Judge Stanton immediately launched into Jimmy.

  “We could have met in chambers and you could have told us what you wanted to do and we could have hashed it out in there. But you have to grandstand, Mr. DiCarlo. You have to send everybody into a frenzy. And just what is your basis for calling the lawyer who is trying this case to the stand?”

  “He’s a witness, Judge. His motivation for bringing this case is fair game. He never should have been the prosecutor on this case.”

  “Then you should have moved to recuse him, Mr. DiCarlo. That’s the proper procedure. You don’t call him as a witness in the middle of your trial. Jack, what do you say about this?”

  “He’s already established through other witnesses that I represented Rudy and that, for instance, I talked to Maria about coming to work for me before I actually started as the state attorney. I don’t know what else he needs.”

  The judge looked back at Jimmy. “Well?”

  “I think the jury needs to hear it from Mr. Tobin.”

  All of a sudden a smile broke across Judge Stanton’s face. “Sometimes you ought to be careful what you wish for, Mr. DiCarlo. You might get it.” He sat back, the smile still on his face. “I’m going to allow it. Jack, take the stand.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “I’m going to address the jury before you begin, Mr. DiCarlo.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  The judge told the jurors that they were to treat Jack’s testimony like that of any other witness. “You can see that there’s no other lawyer sitting with Mr. Tobin and it will be awfully hard for him to cross-examine himself. So I’m going to give Mr. Tobin some leeway in answering the questions. You may proceed, Counsel.”