Judge & Jury - James Patterson [23]
“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.
Dead man walking, Ralphie.
The prosecutor brought the witness back. “So to the best of your knowledge, Mr. Denunziatta, Mr. Cavello knew about Mr. Greenblatt’s murder before it took place?”
“’Course he knew about the murder, Mr. Goldenberger. Jimmy wouldn’t tie his shoelaces without the Boss’s say-so. Everybody knew that. Cavello ordered the hit.”
Chapter 22
MIRIAM SEIDERMAN HAD SEEN the monstrous look, too. It almost brought the proceedings to a halt, as all eyes went to Cavello.
Up to now the mob boss had been on his best behavior, but she knew he was tethered by a slender thread. The first two witnesses had been damaging. She could read the jury on that. Only a complete fool would think Cavello had nothing to do with Greenblatt’s murder.
Yet he just sat there, like he had it all planned out. His life was going down the tubes, and he was above it all: You can’t hold me here. I’m stronger than you. I’m stronger than the whole system. You can’t judge me. It made her shiver.
After trial that day, she met her husband for dinner with a client. Ben was a partner at Rifkin, Sayles, one of the biggest law firms in the city. She listened, tried to laugh. The client, Howard Goldblum, was one of the most successful real estate developers in the city.
But inside, she was scared. She kept reliving the trial. It kept reverberating through her. Something about that man. That he couldn’t be controlled by any system.
She and Ben got home around ten. The alarm was on. The housekeeper had gone for the night. She double-bolted the front door and went upstairs.
She knew she should tell Ben about today. But it was silly, and she wasn’t a silly person. She’d been on a hundred trials. She’d seen plenty of brazen criminals who thought they were bigger than life itself. Why was this one different? He wasn’t! To hell with him.
She watched Ben disappear into his walk-in closet to get undressed, then into the bathroom. She heard him brushing his teeth. She went over to their bed. She pulled off the pillows one by one. Then she stripped down the duvet.
Miriam Seiderman felt her heart slam to a stop.
“Ben! Ben, come out here, quick! Ben!”
Her husband ran into the room, his toothbrush in hand. “What is it?”
Under the covers there was a newspaper, folded open to page two. The headline read, GANGSTER STOPS TRIAL DEAD.
She was staring at Dominic Cavello. An artist’s sketch. The very moment in the courtroom that had stayed with her all evening.
That look.
She turned to Ben. “Did you put that here?”
Her husband shook his head and picked up the Daily News. “Of course not, no.”
A chill started to creep down Miriam Seiderman’s spine. The house had been locked, the alarms set. Her housekeeper, Edith, had left at four.
What the hell was going on? This was this evening’s paper.
Someone had gotten in here tonight!
Chapter 23
AROUND THAT TIME, in a dimly lit Albanian café in Astoria, Queens, Nordeshenko sat reading a newspaper of his own.
A few customers were at the bar. A soccer game was playing