The Pa-la-ti-'shan

by Neal Goldstein

  “Well, as the good Councilman got on in years he became concerned that his graying hair would expose to the world that he was not what he once had been. Not that what he once had been was all that great. Apparently, the Eyetalians, unlike the Irish, don’t hold their seniors with a high degree of esteem.

  So Cardullo had his mistress dye his hair jet black. The problem was his mistress was as bad a beautician as she was an administrative aide. The girl could not quite make the dye job work. So when the Councilman turned his back you could see a white streak down the back of his head. Looked just like the tail of a skunk. There was also the fact that Cardullo’s personal hygiene wasn’t very good. The man had the kind of body odor that clung to ya if he got anywhere near your personal space.

  Anyway, it turned out Cardullo was all mobbed up. He was laundering money for the Maafia for years. He was also filtering some of the money to various public officials, including a number of Traffic Court Judges. He was bribing them with drug money and buying favors for the mob! He was like the feckin payroll master for low end corruption in the city.

  Of course, I was completely unaware of this scoundrel’s egregious behavior while I was working for the councilman. It wasn’t until I was working for the governor that the Joint Task Force told me about the treachery. Despite the fact that I had no part in it, I was induced to wear a wire and engage the councilman in an incriminating conversation.

  So I met with Cardullo and Billie Glasses Rossetti, the head of the Philly mob. Those two miscreants wanted me to induce the governor to accept a bribe to pardon Rosetti’s cousin who had been convicted of a rather heinous murder and decapitation of his lover who he believed had been cheating on him.

  The evidence I had obtained was sufficient to convict both of them. Unfortunately, it was also sufficient for the mob to send a hit man to eliminate the evidence.”

  I asked, “Were you actually in the Witness Protection Program, like on TV?”

  He nodded. “They changed my name to Sydney Goldberg and hid me in Missoula Missouri.”

  “Wait a minute, you mean to tell me that they thought they could pass you off as a Jew? I mean, with that brogue and …”

  “And my pale Irish complexion, and this red nose.”

  I nodded.

  “I assume Bernie that you haven’t had the pleasure of spending any time in Missoula. The locals there wouldn’t know the difference between a Jew and an Irishman. They could have told them I was a feckin Rabbi!

  Anyway, every two weeks or so the FBI and the U.S. Attorney would visit me in Mizzou, as the locals were wont to call it, and ask me how they could get evidence on the governor who they were sure had some involvement in Cardullo’s corruption conspiracy, or any other conniving skullduggery of which they were convinced the governor was involved. They even hinted that someone was about to provide evidence that the governor had been receiving kickbacks from Senator Cinaglia.

  This went on for months. Ya know Bernie, from the nature of their questions I got a pretty good notion it was Earl Samson throwin Slattery under the bus.”

  “So how is it you’re back in town?”

  “Well remember how I was telling ya that Cardullo’s mistress had been dying his hair?”

  I nodded.

  “Well it seems she was usin some toxic shoe polish. The repeated bad dye jobs leaked into Cardullo’s brain and gave him the cancer. He died. All’s the pity.”

  “What about the mob guy?”

  “Turns out he wasn’t particularly popular with his crowd either. Someone knifed him in the exercise yard.

  With the threat to yours truly eliminated so to speak, Sydney Goldberg, late of Missoula Missouri, out lived his usefulness and Jack Collins was reborn.”

  CHAPTER FORTY FIVE

  The Dunlap Holding Group Connection

  I was greeted by Bobby and Serge when I walked in. “Where’s mommy?” Bobby asked.

  “She’s having dinner with her father, Major Miller.”

  “Bernie, I didn’t know that uncle Major was Mommy’s daddy.”

  “You know the Major?”

  She nodded her head. “Yes, sometimes he would come with Uncle Bob to visit me. He’s very nice. Isn’t ‘Major’ a funny name?”

  “Yes it is honey.”

  That was interesting, why would the Major visit Bobby? More to the point, why would Conrad agree? This whole weird business wasn’t adding up.

  Nicky didn’t get home until long after Green had tucked Bobby in for the night.

  “So, how was your dinner with the Major?” I asked.

  She looked at me for a long moment before she answered.

  “Let’s say he’s not a member of the Bernie Green fan club,” she said as she sat down next to me.

  “How about you?”

  She looked at me again for another long interval.

  “He showed me a picture of a woman kissing you. He told me you were having an affair with her. He told me you’re going to be indicted by the Grand Jury the Attorney General was empanelling.”

  “I don’t know anything about the Attorney General’s Grand Jury, but you don’t believe I was having an affair. Do you?”

  “No.”

  “So, what’s wrong?”

  She sighed. “There’s something you’re not telling me. What is it?”

  I stared at her and could feel the silence creating a barrier between us. “Do you trust me?”

  Now it was her turn to stare back at me in silence.

  I said, “I promise I’ll tell you everything, but can’t it wait until after my Grand Jury testimony is over? Oh, and by the way how long will Serge be staying with us?”

  “Until he finds a place, why?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, it’s just that he’s always around,” I whined.

  “The way you’re carrying on about Serge, why you’re not jealous of Serge. Are you?”

  “No, it’s just I don’t know.”

  She stood up, shook her head and walked into the bedroom.

  The next morning I was determined to get to the bottom of the Major Miller story. Joel Solomon, however, had a different agenda.

  “The Judge assigned to resolve the mess those two gonif judges created when they sent the kids to the private detention center just issued his ruling. All the sentences have been set aside. Do you know what that means?”

  “Yeah, the kids get a new lease on life. That’s a good thing.”

  “OK, I didn’t even think about that,” he said. “But for you, it means that class action you agreed to bring on their behalf as a pro bono matter for Brinkley Smoot, now has some legs. It will generate a lot of good PR for our firm. Mike Bollinger is in seventh heaven.”

  “That’s great, but it’s really going to make a difference for the kids we represent. Isn’t that the point?”

  “You think so? For most of these kids it’s meaningless. They graduated to more violent and dangerous crimes. The rate of recidivism is 90%. Now with this lawsuit they’re going to get a chunk of money that will probably go to buy crack or god knows what.”

  I stared at him and could not hide my disappointment, “Do you hear yourself? How can you be so cynical?”

  “I’m a lawyer. You’re the politician. We can debate this later. Now, we have to move this case along. Based on the judges’ plea colloquies, we figure that 2000 juveniles were sentenced to anywhere from 30 days to 18 months. That means the illegal enterprise generated somewhere between 18 and 25 million dollars. We have to find out where they hid the money and freeze it; that way when we get a judgment for the class there will be something to distribute to our deserving clients. We’ll also be able to recover our costs, which by the way will run to at least six figures.”

  I had no idea that there was so much money involved.

  “Here’s the thing,” Joel went on. “Neither of their Honors, or the son have that kind of money, or so they claim. Our search shows that adding up the three of them there’s maybe $3 or $4 mill. They mu
st have the rest stashed somewhere.

  So far besides the detention company, the only common link is a privately held company, the Dunlap Group. What?” Joel asked. “Have you heard of it?”

  “It sounds familiar, but I can’t quite come up with where I heard that before.”

  “OK. If it comes to you, it might lead us to the money. Oh, by the way, some lawyer from Harrisburg, Seymour Arrington called Bollinger. He wants to retain you as Co-Counsel he’s defending your buddy, Wallander.”

  “I’m not qualified to represent Phil. I read he’s been indicted for vehicular homicide.”

  “I know, Mike Bollinger told him we don’t handle those kinds of cases. Anyway, Mike wants us, that is, you and me, to meet with Arrington and Wallander and Wallander’s father. Apparently Mike and Wallander’s father go back a ways. So …”

  Great Phil Wallander, just what I needed. I liked Phil well enough, and I believed Wallander had no intention of driving under the influence, but the public reports that linked his car to the hit and run, well I did not believe in coincidences. Besides, I needed time to get to the bottom of Major Miller’s nonsense, and come clean with Nicky, and there was something about that Dunlap Group, I just couldn’t quite remember what it was.

  “When are we meeting with Arrington and the Wallanders?”

  “Mike set something up in the Board room for this afternoon.”

  I looked at my messages; Jack Collins left three messages to contact him. I wondered what that was all about.

  “Good of ya to return my calls; the governor requests the pleasure of your company. Do ya think ya can stop by and have a cuppa?”

  “Today’s not good for me. I’ve got a lot on my plate.”

  “The governor’s in one of his moods. If you don’t come see him he’ll have one of his king-sized hissy fits and declare martial law, or attack New Jersey. For whatever reason, you have a calming effect on him. Like a 5 milligram valium, or a stiff shot of Johnny Walker. Besides, I’ll owe you one. And ya know I always return a favor.”

  I could see that Jack was not going to let me off the hook. Besides, it would give me an opportunity to ask the governor about Robert Worthington. “OK, I’ll stop by on my way back from my District Office this morning. But I’m really tight on time, so please help me make the meeting short. You can tell the governor that Michelle Phieffer is in town shooting a movie. He has a thing for her. I’m sure he would be willing to make a visit to the set. It’s a great photo op.”

  Nicky’s replacement smiled with relief when I arrived.

  “Thank god you’re here Mr. Green. Governor Slattery is in a terrible state. I thought he was going to throw one of the members of the State Senate Budget Committee out of the window. Mr. Collins had to restrain him.”

  “His bark is far worse than his bite. The governor wouldn’t hurt a fly,” I reassured her.

  She did not appear to be convinced.

  “Thanks for coming.” The governor was standing looking out of the window of his conference room. “Come look at this magnificent view of Fairmount Park. You know, if those cocksuckers in the Senate have their way, there won’t be any money in the budget to take care of the park. It’ll turn into a jungle.”

  “Is that what you wanted to see me about?”

  “No, no. It’s the Grand Jury thing. You know your subpoena. What are you going to tell the Grand Jury?”

  “That’s supposed to be a secret, I can’t tell you what I’m going to testify about.”

  “Don’t be naïve. The U.S. Attorney is going to leak your testimony to the press the minute you’re excused. So what are you going to tell them?”

  “The truth.”

  “Sure, but which truth?”

  I looked at the governor. “There’s only one truth.”

  Now it was the governor’s turn to look at me. He shook his head. “Bernie, the truth is like a rubber band. It’s elastic. Did you see that movie ‘Michael Clayton’?”

  I shook his head.

  “Well the trailer for the movie says, ‘The truth can be adjusted’.”

  I could see this conversation was not going anywhere. “I’m going to answer the questions the U.S. Attorney asks me.”

  “Politicians never answer questions. We ignore the questions and say whatever the hell we want. You’re a politician now. You’d better get with the program.”

  “I don’t know what the U.S. Attorney is going to ask me, but I know I didn’t have any improper dealings with Senator Cinaglia, and none of my business with him had anything to do with you.”

  I paused for a moment as the governor digested my assurance that I could not implicate him in the Cinaglia case. “I need your advice on something. What can you tell me about Robert Worthington?”

  The governor arched his eyebrows. “You don’t want to have anything to do with that rotten bastard. He’s toxic. Why are you asking about him?”

  I told the governor about the honey trap.

  “You’re a better man than me. I would have fallen for the bait, for sure.” He had a faraway look in his eye. “Bernie, you’re sure you never were involved with Worthington other than the campaign contribution and gun access thing?”

  “Not that I can think of.”

  “There’s got to be something. Worthington’s a prick but he wouldn’t go out of his way to make a beef with you over that silly shit.”

  “Tell me more about this woman Samantha Binnager. Was she really hot?”

  Just then Jack Collins walked into the room. “Governor, I just got a call from the Film Office Director. Did you know Michelle Pffiefer is in town today on a shoot in Center City?”

  I left the conference room as the governor and Collins discussed the logistics of his impromptu visit to the movie set. “Do you think my ass looks too big in this suit?” the governor asked as I closed the door.

  The governor was a piece of work. He was completely self-absorbed and hopelessly controlled by his libido. He was apparently disappointed that I had not fallen into Samantha Binnager’s trap. I reached for my wallet and pulled out her card. There it was! The connection to Worthington was the Dunlap Group. Worthington was involved in the detention center mess.

  CHAPTER FORTY SIX

  Green For The Defense

  When I got back to Brinkley Smoot the meeting with Phil Wallander and his father and their attorney was already in progress.

  “There he is,” Mike Bollinger said as I entered the conference room. “Bernie was detained by the governor,” he added by way of explanation.

  “Sorry,” I nodded to Phil who smiled in response. Mike Bollinger introduced me to Phil’s father and Seymour Arrington the Harrisburg attorney the Wallanders had retained to represent Phil in the hit and run case in Dauphin County.

  “Sy was just starting to give us the status of the case,” Bollinger said.

  I looked over at Seymour Arrington who looked like a proper country lawyer; he was wearing a three-piece suit, complete with an old-fashioned watch fob. He had a ruddy complexion and silver hair he combed in a pompadour. I almost fell for the whole avuncular image, except for the beady eyes that stared back at me with reptilian interest, as if I were some prey that he could dispatch with a swipe of his lizard tongue.

  After summarizing the Commonwealth’s case against Phil and the defense strategy Arrington said. “Young Phil doesn’t seem to think that an old fart like me is up to defending the case. Isn’t that right?”

  I turned my attention to Wallander who was staring at me.

  “It’s not that Mr. Arrington, it’s just that, well….” Phil was obviously uncomfortable with having to express his feelings about Arrington’s approach to the case to his face.

  “Jesus Christ Phil, why don’t you just put it out on the table?” Wallander’s father said the vein in his forehead pulsed as he spoke.

  Phillip III took a deep breath and said, “Dad, it’s not that I think Mr. Arrington is not up to the task. It’s just that I’ve seen Bernie in action.
He’s got great instincts and knows how to handle tough situations. People like Bernie, and believe what he says. And Bernie believes me. With all due respect Mr. Arrington I just don’t think you believe me.”

  “I do believe you,” I said. “But it’s what a jury believes, that’s all that counts. We’re talking about your life here. I’m not an experienced litigator. Your case needs a criminal defense attorney who knows how to mount an aggressive defense on your behalf. Besides, our firm really isn’t equipped to handle cases like this.”

  Wallander stared back at me.

  Mike Bollinger broke the silence. “You know Bernie, Phil’s right. You have that rare quality to navigate tough situations. You’re a leader and juries like that. Besides, you’ll have Joel as your second chair. Joel’s the best young litigator in the firm, and you’ll have the full resources of Brinkley Smoot at your disposal.”

  “I appreciate your and Phil’s confidence in me. But I do not have the trial experience the magnitude that this case requires. I don’t believe it’s fair to Phil for me to learn how to defend a vehicular homicide case on the job.”

  “Bernie, I believe in you and your boss does too.”

  I looked around the room. Phil’s father and Seymour Arrington stared at me with disapproval. Arrington could barely conceal his smirk. Fuck him. Phil’s father was obviously concerned about his son’s welfare. Mike Bollinger was exuding confidence. Joel Solomon shook his head and stared at me.

  Forty-five minutes later, it was official. The Wallanders had formally retained Brinkley Smoot as counsel in Commonwealth vs. Phillip Wallander, III. Seymour Arrington would continue as local counsel. The discovery would be over-nighted to our office and Joel and I would meet in the morning in the 48th floor war room with paralegals and assorted personnel to review the file and plan the defense.

  I grabbed Joel as we left the meeting. “There’s something I need to discuss with you about an unrelated matter. Can you spare a moment?”

  Joel looked at his watch. “I’m running late for a video conference with the Judge on the drug case. Can it keep until tomorrow?”

  “It’s pretty important. It’s about that problem with Bob Worthington. I really would appreciate your insight.”