[Lady Justice 22] - Lady Justice and the Conspiracy Trial

by Robert Thornhill

  “Was that about the time Jack gave up on his story about your father?”

  “I don’t know for sure. Maybe?”

  “Did Jack ever tell you why he gave up on his story?”

  “He said one of his sources had disappeared.”

  “And that didn’t alarm you?”

  “Like I said, Mr. Marshall, I don’t get into all that stuff. All I knew was that I loved Jack, then one day he was gone.”

  “You try to come across as innocent Ms. Marchetti, but I can’t believe you are so naïve to not wonder why your lover who had been investigating your father’s illegal business, suddenly goes missing along with his informant. Surely you must have some questions about your father’s involvement.”

  “Well, I don’t!” she replied defiantly.

  “No further questions.”

  Marshall was good. His questioning made Calinda look either unbelievably naïve or lying through her teeth.

  Marshall’s last witness was Detective Blaylock.

  “Detective, once Jack Carson’s body was found, what led you to arrest Carmine Marchetti for his murder?”

  “Motive and means, Counselor. Carson was doing his best to expose Marchetti’s dirty secrets, plus he was having an affair with the man’s daughter. Everyone knows that Carmine Marchetti is the godfather of the Kansas City mafia, and the way Carson died is consistent with previous murders attributed to the mob.”

  “Thank you detective. No further questions.”

  “Cross?” Ms. Romero, Judge Weathers asked.

  Suzanne was ready for this one.

  “Detective Blaylock, did your crime scene investigators or the Medical Examiner find any physical evidence tying Carmine Marchetti to Carson’s death?”

  “No.”

  “So really, everything you have against Carmine Marchetti is circumstantial.”

  “I suppose, but ---.”

  She cut him off. “Jack Carson’s editor said they had a file folder full of threats against Mr. Carson. Did you investigate any of them?”

  “We looked at them, but the most recent was two months old.”

  “So the answer is ‘no.’ In your estimation, no one could hold a grudge more than two months.”

  “Well, I ---.”

  “When Walt Williams came to you asking about Jack Carson’s disappearance, did he not present you with another theory about his disappearance?”

  “He had some cockamamie story about a government conspiracy and tried to get me to buy the idea that hired assassins had killed Carson. It was just too far-fetched and he had no concrete evidence.”

  “So let me get this straight. Your department failed to investigate written threats because you considered them too old, you dismissed Walt Williams’ lead because he had no hard evidence, and yet you arrested Carmine Marchetti even though you had no hard evidence yourself. Is that about right?”

  No response.

  “I can’t hear you, Detective.”

  “Yes.”

  “Sounds like a witch hunt to me!”

  “Objection!” Marshall roared.

  “Withdrawn,” Romero replied, giving him a wink.

  The prosecution’s case was weak, but given Marchetti’s reputation, it might be enough.

  CHAPTER 15

  I was so ready for the weekend and a break from the trial. Kevin and Veronica’s wedding and spending time with my friends and family was just the tonic I needed to take my mind off gangsters and hired assassins.

  I had just settled in with my morning paper, anticipating a quiet Saturday morning, when the phone rang.

  “Walt, you ready to go?”

  “Go where, Dad? I don’t remember making any plans for this morning.”

  “Of course you do. You’re the best man, aren’t you?”

  “Well yes, but ---.”

  “But nothin’,” he interrupted. “Tonight is Kevin’s bachelor party. I’ve been doing your best man chores all week, but now it’s time for you to pitch in.”

  “So what do you need?” I sighed, visualizing my quiet Saturday morning going down the tubes.

  “Tables and chairs, Sonny. We’ve got to get the Teamster’s Hall set up for tonight. I borrowed a pick-up from a buddy and reserved what we need from a rental place. Meet me downstairs in ten minutes.”

  “But Dad!” I tried to tell him I didn’t even have my pants on yet, but he had hung up.

  Fifteen minutes later, I met him at the curb tapping his watch.

  “You’re late! Let’s hit the road. We’re burnin’ daylight.”

  On the way to the rental place, I asked, “So what exactly do you have planned for the evening?”

  “The usual,” he replied. “A boys night out before old Kevin ties the knot.”

  “Just the boys? What are the girls going to do?”

  “Maggie said something about having one of those bridal shower things for Veronica. That’s all I know.”

  I thought it odd that we weren’t all celebrating together, but since I left the planning to someone else, I really couldn’t complain.

  At the rental store, Dad signed for the table and chairs and the clerk handed our order to a kid who looked like an extra for a horror movie. His head was shaved and tattooed, his earlobes had those big hole things in the lobes and there were studs in his tongue and sticking out of every orifice on his face.

  “Why don’t you boys have a cup of coffee and a donut while Ritchie gets you loaded,” the clerk suggested.

  Since Dad had rousted me out of the house before breakfast, it sounded like a good idea.

  Fifteen minutes later, Ritchie stuck his head in the door. “Gotzths yuzz stutth luddded,” he mumbled.

  I took that to mean we were ready to go, so I gulped down the rest of my coffee and headed to the truck.

  I wanted to check our load, but Dad was in a hurry. I should have insisted.

  Seeing a break in the traffic, Dad put the pedal to the metal and merged onto Broadway. No sooner had we cleared the curb, when I heard a deafening crash. I looked back, and to my horror, tables and chairs littered the street. Cars behind us came to a screeching halt.

  “Holy crap!” Dad muttered, bailing out of the driver’s side.

  As I joined him, I saw Ritchie, open mouthed, staring at the mess. Our eyes met and I saw the fear register on his face just before he fled into the bowels of the building.

  I hoped Dad wasn’t carrying his 9mm. He might have been tempted to give Ritchie another orifice in which to put a stud.

  After fifteen minutes of utter embarrassment, amid jeers and other unsavory epithets flung our way by passing motorists, we were loaded and on our way.

  I just hoped this wasn’t a harbinger of things to come.

  It was nearly four in the afternoon before Dad was through with me. I was bushed and looking forward to a hot shower and maybe a quick nap before the evening’s festivities were to begin. But it wasn’t to be.

  Maggie greeted me at the door.

  “Hi Sweetie,” she said, giving me a peck on the cheek. “If you’re not too busy, I’d really appreciate it if you would run by the hotel and pick up Mary. I’d do it myself, but I’m finishing things up for the bridal shower.”

  Mary Murphy was our dear friend and the housemother at my Three Trails Hotel, a twenty sleeping room abomination on Linwood Avenue. The twenty scruffy residents share four hall baths. Not ideal living conditions, but when all you can afford is forty bucks a week, it’s a roof over your head.

  I figured I might as well give Mary a call to see when she’d be ready. If I was lucky, I still might have time to catch a few quick winks.

  “Mr. Walt, I was just getting ready to call you. Maggie said you’d be picking me up. I need you to bring Willie with you. Tell him to bring his snake. Mr. Feeney stopped up the #3 crapper again.”

  “Swell.”

  Willie was my maintenance man when I owned a portfolio of apartments. When I sold them and became a cop, he retired --- sort of. He lives
rent free in a studio apartment in our building in exchange for taking care of things around here and at the hotel. We became close friends over the years and he actually saved my bacon more times than I want to remember.

  I called to give him the good news.

  “Dis jus’ ain’t right,” he moaned. “I’se done showered an’ got all dressed up fo’ de party, an’ now I gotta go deal wif ole man Feeney’s poop!”

  “I feel your pain,” I replied, trying to be supportive. “Meet me out front.”

  When we arrived, Mary was in good spirits.

  “Ohhh, I’m so excited! I just love wedding showers.”

  Willie stomped by without saying a word.

  “What’s his problem?” she asked.

  “Well, he was excited too, until I told him about the number 2 in number 3. Now, not so much.”

  She giggled. “He’ll get over it.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Mr. Feeney came busting out the door.

  “Whoa! Slow down old-timer. What’s the rush?”

  “It’s Willie,” he replied looking furtively over his shoulder. “He told me if I did that again, he was gonna run that snake thing up my butt. He wouldn’t really do that, would he?”

  “I can’t make any promises,” I lied.

  At that moment, Willie appeared, brandishing the snake. “Where is dat ole man?”

  Wide-eyed, Mr. Feeney stared at the snake in shock. “Gotta go!” he muttered as he leaped of the porch and tore across the lawn.

  Willie grinned as he watched him disappear around the corner. “Bet de ole dude hadn’t run dat fast in years. Mebbe it was worth de trip after all.”

  I packed my charges in the car and headed home.

  So much for a nap.

  At six that evening, Dad was ready to launch Kevin’s bachelor party.

  In attendance were Dad, Kevin, Jerry, Ox, Willie, the Professor and myself.

  Our mouths were watering as the aroma of bar-b-cue brisket and beans wafted through the big hall.

  “I’m ready to tie on the old feed bag,” Ox announced.

  “Oh, no! Not yet!” Dad said. “We’ve got a few things to do before we feed our faces.”

  He brought out a chair and ordered Kevin to sit.

  “The bachelor party is a time-honored tradition. It represents the groom’s last evening of freedom before being hooked to the old ball and chain. His last opportunity to indulge in some activities that later on might be frowned upon as a violation of the marriage vows. So, without further ado, it’s time to get this shindig started.”

  He left the room and returned pushing a big cake on a dolly.

  When the cake was in front of the seated Kevin, Dad said, “Okay, old friend. Are you ready to lick a little icing, if you know what I mean?”

  Kevin is not a man who flusters easily, but I could see he was very uncomfortable.

  “Look, John, I really appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I just don’t feel right about it.”

  Dad was shocked. “I don’t understand. Why not?”

  He actually blushed. “Veronica trusts me and I just don’t want to let her down. Not like this.”

  “Dad,” I whispered, “Maggie specifically said ‘no strippers.’”

  “You guys need to loosen up,” he replied. “Live a little.”

  With that, he tapped on the cake. “Okay Honey. Let’s see what you got!”

  The cake popped open and out stepped Kevin’s beautiful bride-to-be. She was dressed, barely, in an itsy-bitsy-teeny-weenie yellow polka dot bikini. Needless to say, she filled it very well.

  Kevin’s mouth dropped open. “Veronica!”

  Dad was beaming like he’d just won an Oscar. “You can’t have a bachelor party without having a pretty girl pop out of a cake, and since Veronica used to do this for a living, well, I figured I ought to hire the best.”

  Veronica straddled Kevin’s lap, and after burying his nose in her ample cleavage, I heard her whisper, “Thank you, Babe. You said just the right thing and I’m so proud of you, and tomorrow night I’ll show you just how proud I really am.”

  Kevin definitely had something to look forward to.

  Then it hit me. “Wait a minute. What about the bridal shower? Where’s my wife?”

  At that moment, Maggie, Judy and Mary burst into the room. “Surprise!”

  I looked at Dad and he shrugged. “I figured since we couldn’t have a real bachelor party, we might as well all be together.”

  Maggie pulled out another chair. “Sit down, John. As a reward for all your hard work, we have a surprise for you.”

  She and Judy left the hall, and a moment later returned pushing another cake.

  “We knew how much you wanted a stripper, so here you go.”

  Maggie tapped the cake and a muffled voice came from inside. “Get me the hell out of here!”

  Judy and Maggie popped open the cake and out stepped Bernice in a matching yellow bikini. Needless to say, her ninety-year-old body didn’t quite fill it like Veronica’s did.

  “Jeeze Louise!” Dad muttered, as he took in the wrinkled apparition gyrating in front of him.

  He recovered quickly. “Well, at least they got your bra size right --- 32 long.”

  Bernice punched him in the arm.

  After everyone finished snapping photos of our two bikini models together, and on various laps, Dad proclaimed, “Okay, time to eat. How about you two bimbos getting dressed so we can chow down?”

  The meal was delicious. We ate until we were stuffed. In addition to no strippers, the girls had insisted on no booze, but, as usual, Dad snuck in a few trays of his notorious Jello shots.

  After the meal, Dad stood and clinked his glass. “Attention everyone. I know tomorrow’s a big day, but before we call it a night, our friend Jerry has a few words for the bride and groom.”

  Everyone rolled their eyes. Our resident stand-up comic could be quite annoying, and what was coming was anybody’s guess. He was also our resident poet-laureate, which sometimes was pretty good. I hoped it would be the latter.

  He solemnly stood and faced his audience.

  “Throughout history, great romances have captured the hearts and imaginations of millions. From Anthony and Cleopatra to Rhett Butler and Scarlet O’Hara. Across the ages, love has blossomed across stormy seas, between warring tribes and social classes, but few have bridged the formidable gap separating a woman in full bloom from an old geezer in his dotage. Yet, such is the love story we are celebrating tonight, which will certainly join George Burns and Gracie Allen as one of the most storied romances in history.

  “I have written a little ditty for the occasion which I call Ode to the Beauty and the Beast.

  The story started years ago

  When he was just a lad.

  He got in a car with some mafia thugs

  And they were really bad.

  They killed a guy and tried to run

  The law caught them anyway.

  Kevin talked and they sent him west

  And told him he’d have to stay.

  For fifty years, he lived this way

  With no family, kids or wife.

  Then one day, he got some news

  That would really change his life.

  If you don’t get a kidney

  A kindly doctor said.

  It will only be a few months more

  Before you wind up dead.

  He searched and searched without success

  But no kidney could be found.

  So he faced the fact that very soon

  He’d be planted in the ground.

  But before he passed beyond the vail

  He had one final wish.

  To spend at least one steamy night

  With some pretty little dish.

  His friends came through and found her

  Veronica was her name.

  And to fill a dying man’s last wish

  She was the perfect dame.

  Then out of the blue, a kidne
y came

  To save the old dude’s skin.

  So Kevin devised a brand new plan

  Veronica’s heart to win.

  Some said it would never happen

  Cause he was just too old.

  But Kevin never faltered

  The nookie made him bold.

  He professed his love and wooed her

  And won the lady’s heart.

  Not at all an easy task

  For such an aged fart.

  The moral of this story

  If you’re inclined to look for one.

  Is that without a doubt

  He’s a lucky son-of-a-gun!

  He took a bow as everyone rose from their seats, applauding in appreciation.

  This certainly hadn’t been a typical bachelor party, but it ended well.

  Given the quirkiness of our little group, it could have been a lot worse.

  CHAPTER 16

  Weddings and funerals are good for one thing --- bringing people together.

  They are among the few times that people with diverse views and backgrounds and differing opinions can set aside the things that separate them and join together to share in a moment of joy or sorrow.

  This was definitely such a day.

  The colorful backgrounds of both the bride and groom were reflected in the guests who filled the pews.

  In addition to the close friends and family who had attended the bachelor party the night before, there gathered a group of people as different as night and day.

  Veronica was a foster home runaway who turned to prostitution to survive. One pew was filled with her friends from those days, attractive young women still actively involved in the world’s oldest profession.

  Across the aisle were cops in uniform, friends of Ox and Judy, and Kevin McBride, private investigator.

  Just behind them were Willie and his main squeeze, Emma. Seated with them was Louie the Lip, a pal of Willie’s from his days on the street as a con man. Louie still plied the trade but had become a valuable source of information and an informal confidential informant.