The Vendetta Defense

and guns. What does that have to do with law?”

“Nothing. It’s chaos.”

“Clearly.” Bennie’s jaw set in determination. “The Coluzzis are outlaws. Their weapons are nonlegal. They destroy property. They kill people.”

“Right.”

“And we are distinctly out of our element in the nonlegal world, right?”

“Right.” Judy had to agree.

“It knocks us off balance, and scares us, right?”

Judy got a little excited. “Right!”

“It even depresses us, I see.”

“Okay, enough.” Judy smiled, and so did Bennie.

“Well, it’s no different from any other conflict, even litigation. We have to stop playing their game. We have to bring this battle onto our turf. We have to fight with our weapons.”

“Which are?” All Judy had was a red editing pencil. It wasn’t even good lipliner.

“The law, of course!”

Judy deflated instantly. “The cops aren’t doing anything—”

“I didn’t say the cops. You’re a lawyer, Carrier.” Bennie leaned over the desk. “Strike fear! Create a scene! Bust some chops! And if they holler, don’t let ’em go. Twist ’em, baby!”

Judy was thinking maybe Mrs. D had been right, that Bennie was the devil. “How?”

“Sue the bastards!”

“For what?” she asked, bewildered.

“For what? Think, Carrier. They planted a car bomb on you!”

“The cops say they can’t prove anything.”

“As a criminal matter, they can’t. But the same circumstantial evidence can be used in a civil suit, and the standard of proof is lower. Sue ’em civilly, for tort!”

Judy nodded. It was possible.

“They destroyed your client’s home! You just gonna take that? What kind of lawyer are you? Sue ’em civilly for the damages! We’ll subpoena the whole goddamn neighborhood. That’ll make a stink. Make them take the time to fight you, and get your profile higher, so they’ll be less inclined to strike again. Fight them on all fronts. What else you got?”

Judy took heart. “They killed those pigeons. I’m sure there’s an animal cruelty statute in Pennsylvania. It might even be criminal, and the press would be terrible.”

“There you go! It ain’t a home run, but it’s all good. Nobody likes bird-killers. Remember those jerks who killed the flamingos at the zoo?” Bennie’s eyes glittered. “Now. The Coluzzis are also businesspeople. Coluzzi is one of the biggest builders in the construction industry.”

“A sixty-five-million-dollar company.” Judy was remembering the newspaper article.

“They build strip malls, mainly.” Bennie nodded, obviously thinking aloud. “I’ve heard of them. They did the one in West Philly, they got the contract over a minority business, and they did one also in Ardmore, I think I read recently. I wonder how many they do a year.”

Judy fetched the newspaper from her desk. “They have the contract on a mall at the waterfront pending.”

Bennie snapped her fingers. “That’s right! So they’re politically well connected. They’d have to be to get that big a city contract.” She thought a minute. “They must have labor work, tax work, all sorts of business advice. I think they’re represented by Schiavo and Schiavo.”

Judy would have no reason to doubt it. Bennie knew most of the lawyers in town. The Philadelphia legal community was small, so if you screwed somebody, they could screw you back, and sooner than you thought. It encouraged good lawyer karma.

Bennie faced Judy directly. “Carrier, if we can’t make some trouble for a major business like that, we should burn our law degrees.”

Judy tried to think. Her gaze fell on the article on her laptop. “At this point I’m only an expert on price- fixing.”

“Okay, start there!” Bennie grinned. “These jokers are in the construction business and they get an awful lot of contracts. It’s an extremely competitive business. The economy is good, and everybody’s building, including the city. I wonder how they do so well.”

“You think they rig bids?”

“Anything is possible. They could pay off Licenses and Inspections. They could excavate pools free for union officials. They could inflate their T and E expenses for the IRS. Pour too much sand in the concrete foundations. Keep their mistresses on the payroll. Have mob connections.” Bennie’s eyes glinted evilly. “Somebody really should investigate these matters. A lawyer, for example.”

Judy laughed, delighted. “But what about Rule Eleven? You have to have a factual basis for filing a lawsuit in federal court.”

“So get one! You gonna tell me the building trades are clean?” Bennie walked to the open door. “I’ll handle the torts suits and the animal cruelty. Get busy. We have work to do.”

“We have to file soon, huh?”

“No.” Bennie paused at the door. “We have to file tomorrow. Lock and load. Any questions?”

Judy thought about it. “How do I thank you?”

Bennie smiled and left, and Judy watched her bounce off in her sneakers. Then she cleared her desk and set to work. She worked all morning and afternoon, breaking only for hoagies they had sent in and for more coffee; Bennie’s was even stronger than Star-bucks. Judy researched cases on the construction industry, discovering the typical patterns of misconduct that gave rise to damages. It was an education.

Bennie had been right. The construction industry wasn’t the cleanest, and Judy’s online factual research discovered a number of websites devoted to encouraging contractors to report suspected bid-rigging, fraud, and kickbacks, guaranteeing their anonymity. So there was a clear potential for abuse, but that didn’t mean Judy had a sufficient factual basis to sue Coluzzi. A complaint had to be true and specific, especially if it was going to have the maximum terroristic effect on the Coluzzis. For that Judy would need facts, from an insider’s perspective.

She checked her Swatch watch. It was almost seven o’clock at night. She didn’t have any time to lose.

And she knew just who to call. Or as her mother would remind her, whom.

An hour later Judy was barreling down the expressway in a rented Saturn. She had left Frank’s truck parked near the office; she hadn’t wanted to risk taking it in case the Coluzzis had wired it for sound, and she also wanted to avoid being spotted by the press. Their numbers had grown outside the office building as the day had progressed, on the correct assumption that Judy would have to come out sooner or later. It had been all she could do to get out of the building through a service entrance in the back, while Bennie gave a diversionary press conference on the sidewalk out front. Bennie could give nonanswers to their questions forever. She was a great lawyer.

Judy hit the gas. She was heading back out toward Chester County. Judy didn’t know much about Philadelphia suburbs, but she was learning that all the rich people lived in Chester County and none of them seemed to mind sitting forever on Route 202 South. Judy had finally gotten free of that mess and could breathe again. She was almost there. Frank had agreed to help her, and Judy had to admit to herself she wouldn’t mind kissing him again.

Make that seeing. She meant seeing him again.

Chapter 23

It was dark by the time Judy found the address, or more accurately the mailbox, since the house couldn’t be seen for the hedge and trees that blocked it from the road. She turned onto an unpaved drive next to a verdigris mailbox embossed with running horses, and when she saw the white sign that read HIGH RIDGE FARM, Judy knew she wasn’t in South Philly anymore.

The Saturn’s tires rumbled down a gravel road lined with trees and ending in a circular driveway in front of a huge fieldstone mansion. Judy cruised to a stop in front of the house, which reached three stories and had two wings, one at either end, its banks of windows framed by black shutters. The night was cool and filled with the