The Vendetta Defense

not only by the scene in the courtroom but by the one in the gallery, and the reporters scribbled their squiggles of old-fashioned shorthand. The Tonys had no reaction, and Frank kept eyeing the Coluzzis. Judy would have to talk to him at the noon recess and find out what he knew.

For the first time in her life, she wasn’t looking forward to lunch.

Chapter 42

The courthouse conference room suddenly felt smaller than Judy remembered, but maybe that was because she was facing off against her lover. She stood on one side of the table and Frank on the other. The fluorescent lights were harsh and glaring. An uneaten pizza sat steaming in its box on the table. In two swivel chairs sat Pigeon Tony and Bennie, reduced to a captive audience.

“You didn’t tell me, Judy,” Frank said, his tone an accusation and his mouth tight with hurt. Pain filled his eyes, which looked bloodshot from a night without sleep. “You knew Coluzzi killed my parents and you didn’t tell me.”

Judy felt her face flush. “Your grandfather told you what Coluzzi said.”

“Yes. He didn’t want to, but he did.”

Pigeon Tony was shaking his head with regret. “Sorry, Judy. He no stop. He ask, ask, ask, ask. He scream and yell. He no give up. Like father.”

But Frank ignored him. “He also told me about my parents’ truck, which you found, and have, incredibly enough—and the report you got from an expert who examined the wreck. You know more about my parents’ death than I do, Judy. You knew all along. And you didn’t tell me!”

“I couldn’t. It was privileged.”

“Bullshit!” Frank raised his voice, then glanced nervously at the conference room door. “You could have told me! I don’t want to hear about this privilege shit!” Frank caught himself and lowered his voice. “You’re not my lawyer. You’re supposed to be my lover. My friend. Everything. I took that seriously, but evidently you didn’t.”

Judy went hot with embarrassment. She didn’t want to be having this conversation in a courthouse, in front of other people, much less Bennie, so she said as much.

“This is the time and place, Judy, and you didn’t tell me about my parents’ murder because you were afraid I’d retaliate. You both were!” Frank cast a scornful glance that managed to encompass both Judy and Pigeon Tony. “That’s why you two kept your mouth shut. You both decided what my reaction should be, and it wasn’t the one you wanted, so you didn’t tell me. But that wasn’t for either of you to decide. They were my parents! I am their only son! I had a right to know they were murdered.”

“But we don’t know that they were!” Judy couldn’t help but shout. “Think logically. Coluzzi told your grandfather he killed them, and I didn’t tell you that. Granted. But before you go off half-cocked, you should understand that there’s no proof that Coluzzi was telling the truth. I don’t think he did it.”

Pigeon Tony was nodding. “He did it.”

“He did it!” Frank agreed.

“You don’t know that,” Judy said. “In fact, I have, or had, tapes of Coluzzi discussing the night your parents had the accident. There’s not a word on them about the murder or your parents. Nothing.”

“Tapes, from where?” Frank demanded, and even Pigeon Tony looked over. She hadn’t mentioned the tapes to either of them. “What tapes? Videotapes?”

“Phone tapes.”

“Phone tapes? Of Coluzzi? Who was he discussing it with?”

Judy thought better of it. She didn’t want Frank attacking Jimmy Bello, not before she had her chance with him on cross-examination. “It doesn’t matter. But I had them, and they said nothing. And the expert I hired said the accident was only an accident, as did the cops. They can’t all be wrong, Frank. Use your head, not your heart.”

But Frank’s anger became unfocused. “Who was Coluzzi on the phone with? Who? And where did you get the tapes?”

“I’m not telling you that, and you have to trust me. They don’t prove anything. Nothing proves anything. I think it was an accident. I didn’t think it before that accident expert, but now I do.”

“I don’t need proof. Coluzzi admitted it.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. Think about it.”

Frank threw up his hands. “Why would he say it if he didn’t do it?”

“To drive your grandfather crazy. To make him nuts. To take credit for something he didn’t do, with false bravado.” Judy felt calmer. The more she thought about it, the more sense it made. “There are a million explanations, Frank. Coluzzi was a sadist.”

“He did it!”

“He did it,” Pigeon Tony echoed, and Bennie shot him a dirty look.

Judy got fed up. “Look, Frank, I’m in the middle of a murder trial right now. So this isn’t about you or your parents, as sorry as I am for their deaths. Right now it’s about your grandfather, who is charged with murder, and it doesn’t look so good for the good guys. Or the bad guys. Whoever we are.” It was a little confusing.

Frank swallowed, visibly dry-mouthed, and Judy saw her opening and went for it, as much as it hurt her to shut him down.

“You want to know the truth, Frank? You can read it. I’ll give you the files tonight. My file, the police file, the whole thing. You want to, you can even talk to the expert. He’s completely impartial. He said the guardrail was too low to be safe and there was no foul play. But right now I have a client to defend and you are not helping him—or me—in the least.”

Frank’s features went stiff and he looked down at Pigeon Tony, whose tiny face sagged between his hands. Frank stood still for a minute, then his sigh was audible. “Fine. We’ll discuss it later.”

Judy figured it was the closest an Italian man could come to an apology. “And you won’t get crazy until we do.”

“I didn’t promise that.”

“It wasn’t a question,” Judy said, and let it drop. Frank wasn’t nuts enough to be thinking about murder, was he? And who would he kill? Angelo Coluzzi was already dead. “Now let’s get back to court, where all I have to fight with is the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania.” Judy glanced at Bennie. “You have anything to tell me before we go back in there?”

“Nope. You’re the boss, boss,” Bennie said, with a relieved smile, and Judy breathed in the encouragement.

“Then let’s go kick some ass.”

On the witness stand in a three-piece suit of light gray wool, Dr. Patel made the same professional picture Judy remembered from the medical examiner’s office. Glossy black hair, large brown eyes behind glasses, a pleasant smile, and a British accent that enhanced the impressiveness of his qualifications. He could have ordered a cheese pizza and sounded smart.

“Now, Dr. Patel, you were the assistant medical examiner who examined the body of Angelo Coluzzi, were you not?” Santoro asked.

“Yes.”

“And you prepared a report of that postmortem examination, did you not?”

“I did.”

Santoro approached the witness stand. “May I approach, Your Honor?” he said needlessly, as Vaughn nodded. “I am showing you a copy of your report on the examination of Angelo Coluzzi, and I ask you to identify it, Dr. Patel.”

“It is mine.”

Santoro moved the report into evidence without objection and addressed the witness. “Please describe briefly for the jury your examination, in layman’s terms, if you would.”

“Briefly, the first step in an autopsy is the external examination,” Dr. Patel began, then described in detail the procedure that Judy had witnessed at the morgue, beginning with the inspection of the deceased’s clothes, and ending with the weighing and sectioning of the internal organs. It sounded even more revolting in description, with