Mob Lawyer 4: A Legal Thriller Page 3

  Toscani waited mere inches behind me, and I turned to raise an eyebrow at him.

  “Do you need anything in here, Counselor?” he asked. “Water? Soda?”

  “No,” I replied shortly. “I don’t need you in here, either. Or behind the glass for that matter. And any recording devices you have on for your interrogation need to be turned off immediately. They are not to be turned back on until you or one of your officers is in the room.”

  Toscani’s gaze traveled up to the blinking camera before he sighed and nodded his head. I shut the door behind me and sat across the table from my client. I looked up at the camera and waited until the flashing light ceased before I met his cautious stare.

  “Are you my attorney?” Rossi asked in a gruff voice that reminded me of Louie Armstrong.

  “Yes,” I confirmed. “My name is Hunter Morgan. Mr. Lamon sent me to help you. Do you know what they’re charging you with?”

  “Felony assault, I guess,” he muttered.

  “At least they told you,” I said and pursed my lips. “They don’t even have a complaining witness, so it’s highly unusual for them to bring you in. When did they pick you up?”

  “About four hours ago,” Rossi answered with a shrug. “I told them they didn’t have nothin’ on me, and then I clammed up.”

  “Good call,” I agreed. “Give me your version of events leading up to your arrest. Whatever you tell me is the truth as far as I’m concerned, and it’s what I’ll use to fight for you in court.”

  “Uh, okay,” Rossi murmured and shrugged his large shoulders. “I know a guy in Midtown owed another guy some money, so I asked him about it, real casual, you know.”

  Ah, so Rossi was an enforcer for the Febbos. It made sense that he was built like a linebacker and spoke like he swallowed razor blades for fun. I could see how he would be an intimidating guy. If someone owed Anthony money, this was definitely the guy to send in.

  “And he didn’t have the money he owed to the other guy?” I pressed carefully.

  “No.” My client shook his large head. “So, I reminded him he had a commitment, and he should keep it, so his business wasn’t, ah, affected by a dishonest reputation. People don’t like people who don’t pay their debts.”

  “Good,” I said with a nod. “Then you went your separate ways.”

  “Yeah,” he confirmed. “When I got to my car, there was that scemo detective with a stupid grin on his face. Told me to get in his car to have a chat.”

  “And brought you here?” I furrowed my brow in confusion. “That doesn’t sound like much of an arrest.”

  “No cuffs or nothing,” my client agreed.

  “Did he read you your rights?” I asked.

  “When we got in this room,” Rossi scoffed. “Standard procedure, he called it. Like I don’t know when I’m being interrogated.”

  “It sounds more like you’re only being detained,” I murmured. “I’ll have to see if they’ve formally filed charges against you. If not, there’s no reason to keep you here.”

  “Then let’s get the hell out of here,” he said and started to rise from his chair. “I’m starving.”

  “Let me find out first,” I advised him. “I can’t walk you out without knowing for sure. It would put us both in hot water. Sit tight. I’ll be right back. And keep not talking to them. It’s helpful for us, and it pisses them off, so maybe they’ll screw something else up.”

  I stood up and headed for the door. Part of me expected to see Detective Toscani waiting just outside, but he was nowhere to be seen in the dim hallway. I looked left and right before I noticed another suit had walked around the corner.

  The Manhattan DA was a relatively new guy to New York politics, and I only recognized him from the election results a few weeks ago. Lincoln Adams was in his mid-thirties with a salt-and-pepper crewcut and a navy Brooks Brothers suit. His icy-blue eyes were already on me as he strode closer.

  I eased the door shut behind me and extended my hand.

  “Mr. Adams, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said.

  “Likewise, Mr. Morgan,” the DA said coolly as he shook my hand. “What can I do for you?”

  “I need to know if formal charges have been filed against my client, Gervasio Rossi,” I answered.

  “Ah,” Adams exhaled as he turned toward the bullpen and began walking again. “So, you are his legal representative?”

  “Yes,” I confirmed while we began to walk side-by-side. “He’s been detained for the past four hours but there’s been no formal arrest. I assume the charges are pending.”

  “They were,” he agreed with a nod to two officers who waited at the end of the hallway. “Mr. Rossi is now being arrested and charged with first-degree assault, attempted robbery, conspiracy, tampering, and obstruction of justice.”

  “That’s a considerably longer list than I was told when I arrived,” I said and frowned as the two officers walked past us to the interrogation room. “Why is that?”

  “Additional evidence was found,” Adams replied in a mild tone. “You know the drill.”

  “Did the alleged victim come forward?” I pushed for more information.

  Without a witness to say Rossi had assaulted him, their case was already in shambles. I could tear it apart before we even finished the bail hearing.

  “I’m sure you’ll find everything you need when we reach the discovery phase, Mr. Morgan,” the DA huffed. “Until then, your client is being taken to Rikers.”

  “Until he posts bail,” I countered and glanced over my shoulder to see Rossi with the two officers. “They’re officially arresting you now, Mr. Rossi. I’ll work on the bail hearing as soon as possible. Once I know something, I’ll come see you there.”

  Rossi nodded his head silently before the two officers escorted him toward the transport bay. He didn’t seem the least bit worried, and like most of Anthony’s associates, seemed completely familiar with the routine.

  “I wouldn’t hold your breath on bail,” Adams warned me. “These are serious charges, and they merely stem from the allegations made today. I’m sure more information will be brought to light.”

  “At least we can agree on that,” I muttered. “What are we looking at here?”

  “If your client is willing to plead out and give me information about his, ah, shall we say, employment, he could get the minimum of five years on the assault charge,” the DA offered. “I’d give him concurrent time on the other charges. If he doesn’t want to give us something we can use, then he’s treated like every other criminal I charge, which means I will push for punishment to the fullest extent of the law.”

  “So, basically, he has no good options.” I rolled my eyes and narrowed my eyes on the DA. “Did you even look at the file? These charges are ridiculous.”

  “I did,” Adams said as his gaze flicked past me and then returned. “The charges are what our city needs in order to hold its criminals accountable for their actions. Your client is a dangerous man, and he has to answer for his crimes against an innocent citizen.”

  “And where is that innocent citizen exactly?” I asked with a glance around the room before my eyes settled on Flores. “Oh, right, the chief is working on that statement, I’m sure.”

  “Chief Flores has been an invaluable part of this investigation,” he retorted. “I’m sure you wouldn’t understand from your side of the table.”

  “I sure don’t understand corruption,” I agreed. “I hope the people that voted for you know exactly what you are and who you’re in bed with.”

  “I beg your pardon,” Adams hissed. “I worked hard for this position, and my people want criminals brought to justice, which is exactly what I’ll do.”

  “Especially if Flores tells you to,” I shot back with a smirk. “Why else would the DA come to the police station himself? Why didn’t you just send an ADA to handle it?”

  “I like to stay apprised of all situations in my borough.” He glared at me for a few seconds before he gripped his brie
fcase and stepped past me. “I’ll see you at the bail hearing.”

  “Yes, you will,” I muttered as he walked away. “Asshole.”

  “We’ll see you around, Mr. Morgan!” Flores called out with an obnoxiously friendly wave.

  I resisted the urge to flip him the bird as I marched out of the precinct and around the corner to my car where a much more pleasant image awaited me.

  Golden-blonde hair rippled down the back of a sky-blue dress that was wrapped around my favorite attorney, Elizabeth Bennett. Liz leaned against my car with her eyes closed as the warm sun illuminated her copper skin. It seemed my co-counsel had found the sun in London, where she’d spent the past few months with her fancy celebrity firm.

  She seemed to sense my approach as she opened her eyes and turned to look at me with a wide smile.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked while I wrapped my arms around her slender frame. “I thought you weren’t due back for a while.”

  “Hey to you, too,” Liz chuckled. “I wasn’t expecting a welcome home party, but damn, your greeting needs some work.”

  “Sorry,” I laughed as I pulled back and looked her over. “You look great. How do you get a tan in London of all places?”

  “You just have to know where to go,” she laughed. “You look… tired.”

  “I am,” I smirked. “Anthony’s got me working around the clock, but I’m surprised to see you.”

  “Well, we got a pretty good break in our case that’s going to take some time for the paralegals to sort out,” she explained. “In the meantime, I asked for a little time off to come home and relax for a week or two. The apartment they got me is nice, but I miss my own bed, and I need a mani-pedi.”

  “That fancy schmancy stuff must be nice,” I teased.

  “You look like you’ve gotten a little fancy yourself,” Liz shot back as she tapped the hood of my Mercedes. “Quite the upgrade.”

  “Yeah, well, my Volvo was…” I trailed off as I searched for the right words to explain the bullet-riddled old car. “Beyond repair.”

  While my parents’ graduation gift of the blue Volvo had been greatly appreciated, it hadn’t survived the shootout at Pietro’s a few months ago. I’d been lucky not to be shot along with my car, but the shots I’d taken at the Serbs responsible had turned into a whole other fiasco when they came at me for revenge. That was a story for another time.

  “I see,” she said and pursed her lips with curiosity. “Well, Counselor, do you have time for lunch? You can give me all the juicy details about the death of your Volvo.”

  “I wish I could,” I sighed as I checked my watch. “I have to be at the Staten Island courthouse in an hour.”

  “Damn, Anthony has you running all over the place, then,” Liz said. “Dinner instead?”

  “Maybe,” I hedged. “I swear I’m not avoiding you. I want nothing more than to eat a hot meal and look at a beautiful woman, but the way Flores and Webber have NYPD running after all of Anthony’s guys right now, there’s no telling how much work I’ll be doing today.”

  As Liz opened her mouth to respond, my phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out to see my client’s name on the screen. I showed her the screen, sighed, and answered Anthony’s call.

  “Hey, are you out of Manhattan?” he wondered.

  “Not yet, just got to my car and bumped into Liz.” I switched the call to speaker, so she could chime in. “She’s right here.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Lamon,” Liz said.

  “Nice to hear you’re back,” Anthony replied. “How did it go with Rossi?”

  “He’s headed to Rikers for now,” I answered. “I’m waiting to hear about the bail hearing, but they don’t even have a complaining witness, so I doubt it’ll stick. I’m about to head out to Staten Island now.”

  “Okay, I think I’m probably going to owe you a raise,” Anthony said with a half-hearted chuckle. “Once you’re done on the island, I need you over in the Bronx. I just found out one of my dad’s old friends is supposed to have a bail hearing this afternoon, but he doesn’t even have an attorney. Thinks he can handle it himself, dumb old bastard. I can’t leave him out to dry.”

  “Do you know what time the hearing is?” I asked. “I planned to move for a dismissal on the Staten Island case, but I have no idea how long it will take for the judge to make his decision in court.”

  “I think at three,” Anthony answered as he rifled papers around on his desk. “His name is Robert Micci, and he swears he didn’t even do what he got picked up for, but I’ll send you the file. You can read it on the way over.”

  “If you still consider me Hunter’s co-counsel, I’d be happy to take the bail hearing for you,” Liz offered. “A dismissal could take hours, especially if the prosecution argues it, which they likely will. Plus, it’ll be easier for me to read it in a taxi than for Hunter to read it on the drive. I’ll know the case inside and out by the time I get there.”

  Anthony only hesitated for a second before he agreed. “Sounds good. I’ll email it to you, Liz. Thank you.”

  “Of course, Mr. Lamon,” she said with a smile. “I’m always happy to help.”

  With that, Anthony ended the call, and I tucked my phone back into my pocket just as hers chimed with an email.

  “So much for your relaxing time at home,” I chuckled. “Thank you for taking that one. You didn’t have to do that, especially when you’re supposed to be vacationing.”

  “You’re already running ragged,” she scoffed. “I can handle a little bail hearing while you’re getting charges dismissed. Besides, it’s not like I’m doing it for you. Honestly, it’s really quite selfish of me.”

  “Why’s that?” I raised an eyebrow.

  “Because if I help you get everything done earlier today, then it’ll be earlier when we get to have dinner,” Liz replied with another dazzling smile. “And I could sure use a glass of wine and good company.”

  “You didn’t get your fill of wine in Italy?” I laughed.

  “Oh, you heard.” Liz blushed and picked at an imaginary ball of fuzz on her dress. “Annie and Gulia know how to put away the wine.”

  “They’re Italian,” I pointed out with a laugh. “I think it’s in their blood.”

  “It sure was by the time we finished,” she giggled. “I think Gulia’s father was about ready to kick us all out.”

  “You’ll have to tell me all about it over dinner,” I said and grinned. “Let me know when you’re done with yours, and I’ll do the same.”

  “That sounds great,” Liz replied and leaned in to peck me on the cheek. “Can’t wait.”

  “Me, either,” I murmured as the floral scent of her perfume wafted into my nose and left me feeling a little woozy. “See you soon.”

  I climbed into the Mercedes as she stepped onto the curb to call for a cab. I watched her for a moment and then shook my head to focus on the task at hand. The Staten Island case was now in less than an hour, and I had at least a forty-minute drive ahead of me. I couldn’t spend all day gawking at my part-time lover.

  Time to test that turbo engine.

  I drove south toward the two-seven-eight that would take me onto the Verrazzano-Narrows Bridge. The long suspension bridge always gave me a sinking feeling in my stomach, as though we could all drop into the Atlantic at any moment. I blamed all the doomsday movies I watched that showed bridges cracking into pieces for every disaster. Earthquakes, ocean monsters, aliens, you name it, they all broke bridges.

  I thought about all the cases I’d been covering today alone and gripped the steering wheel in frustration. Thank God for Liz showing up today. I was starting to wonder if I needed to hire my own paralegal. It actually wasn’t a bad idea to have help with all my paperwork and filing, but I might have to get an office first. I’d just have to add that to my list of shit to get done eventually.

  At least I had one borough that didn’t seem to give me any trouble. With Alessia at the reins of the Brooklyn DA’s office, none of the
shoddy charges Flores tried to drum up had gained any ground, and there was no way Alessia would let them push her into it. She’d been so disappointed to learn her former boss was getting pulled around by the politicians, she’d put up some pretty solid boundaries as to what the upper crust was allowed to do in her office.

  A rumor had been circulating that she didn’t even allow the ADAs to meet with the politicians or Chief Flores without her present, so no one would be tempted or threatened into doing what they wanted. I hadn’t talked with her about it yet, but I hoped it was true. The DA’s office needed some house cleaning, and the gorgeous Italian woman was the perfect person for the job. She was a brilliant powerhouse in a supermodel’s body, a deadly combination in New York.

  As long as she remained at the helm of the Brooklyn DA’s office, I could count on those cases being minimal or at least legitimate. Then it wouldn’t be any trouble to negotiate a deal that made sense, rather than going to trial after trial against DAs who merely wanted to make the Mayor happy and put their own names on the map for beating a mobster in court.

  When I finally made it onto the island, I drove north to New Brighton and the Staten Island criminal courthouse. I circled the block twice before I gave up on a close parking spot and shifted over a street. I could see an alley between two apartment buildings across from the courthouse and figured I could heel-toe through there to get to my building on time. As I pulled into a two-hour slot, I hoped we didn’t run over my time limit and opened my door just as Hank glided past me in his Chrysler. I grimaced and waved at the bodyguard while he went to find his own parking space.

  I checked my watch again. Ten minutes to spare.

  I grabbed my briefcase and adjusted my suit and tie before I strode toward the alley that would lead me to the courthouse.

  But I didn’t make it as far as I thought I would.