attack?”
Judy let it lie. She knew the answer. It was what had happened, but it wasn’t the only thing that
Dr. Patel thought a moment. “Yes, this injury could also have occurred from a violent push from the front, as in an attack.”
Santoro exhaled, obviously pleased. “Thank you, Dr. Patel.”
But Judy was pleased, too. She could be on her way to saving Pigeon Tony, if she could put a hurt on Jimmy Bello, who undoubtedly would come next.
Chapter 43
Jimmy Bello wore a dark silk tie, a bright white shirt, and a shiny gray suit for trial, which looked remarkably like Santoro’s. Judy assumed it wasn’t the thug aspiring to be a lawyer, but the other way around, and she hoped that everyone would stop wanting to be mobsters soon. She was completely over Mafia chic and was considering boycotting
“Now, Mr. Bello,” Santoro was saying, “you have worked for the Coluzzi family for thirty-five years, correct?”
“Yeh.”
“And while Angelo Coluzzi was alive and running the construction company, you worked directly for him?” “Yeh.” “You knew him well?” “Very.” “He was a friend?” “Yeh.” Judy smiled to herself. If Santoro was trying to wring some emotion out of Fat Jimmy, he’d have to wring harder.
Santoro twisted his neck to free it from his tight collar. “Now, moving directly to the events on the morning of April seventeenth, you were with Angelo Coluzzi that morning, correct?”
“Yeh.”
“It was just the two of you, by the way?”
“Yeh.”
“Where did you go?”
“I drove Angelo to the club, ’cause he needed to get some bands.”
“Bands, what are they?”
“Steel bands, for his birds. His pigeons. For the next race. They’re numbered, like that, so you can’t cheat at the races.”
Judy noticed two of the jurors chuckling, and Santoro decided to move on, with good reason.
Santoro continued, “Mr. Bello, please tell the jury what happened at the pigeon club that morning.”
“Well, me and Angelo opened the place and Angelo went in the back room while I went to make some coffee. Instant, at the bar. That’s right near the back room. They got like a coil, you know. You plug it in and stick it in the mug, with the water.”
Santoro sighed, almost audibly. “Then what did you do?”
“I went to the bathroom while the water was gonna boil.”
“Then what happened?”
“When I came out I seen Tony Pensiera and Tony LoMonaco standing there and the water boiling in the mug. So they see me and they say, what are you doin’ here, and I say what are
Santoro raised a hand. “Did you hear anything at that point?”
“I heard Tony Lucia yell, ‘I’m gonna kill you,’ in Italian.”
Judy eyed the jury, which reacted instantly. A juror in the front row gasped; a homemaker, from Chestnut Hill. Judy prayed she didn’t end up as foreperson.
Santoro nodded. “And then what did you hear, Mr. Bello?”
“A big crash and then like a scream, a real bad scream. And then we ran in the back room and there was Angelo lying there dead near the shelves, and they were spilled onna floor.”
“What was defendant Lucia doing?”
“Tony Lucia was standing over Angelo, and then his friends got him outta there and then I called the cops.”
Judy glanced again at the jury, and several in the back looked upset. But out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed her client, and to her surprise, there were tears shining in his eyes. His lashes fluttered in embarrassment, then he focused quickly elsewhere.
Judy’s mouth went dry. So Pigeon Tony felt remorse at the killing. She should have expected as much. She tried to reach for his hand, but he pulled it away and blinked his eyes clear. Judy would never understand this little man. He wasn’t ashamed to tell her that he killed Coluzzi, but he was ashamed to let her see him crying about it.
“Ms. Carrier,” Judge Vaughn was saying, “your witness.”
Judy looked up at the dais to find Santoro sitting down at counsel table, the court personnel staring at her expectantly, and Jimmy Bello examining his fingernails. She was on deck. She grabbed her pad and her exhibit and went to the podium.
“Mr. Bello, you testified that you worked for Mr. Coluzzi for thirty-five years, is that right?”
“Yeh.”
“You were his personal assistant, isn’t that right?’
“Yeh.”
“So you were with him, performing tasks for him?”
“Yeh.”
“How much of the time where you with him?”
“24-7.”
Judy lifted her legal pad so Bello could see that she was reading from her notes. In time he would figure out that they were her notes of the phone tapes. Bello had to know the tapes had been destroyed by the fake temp, but he couldn’t be sure Judy hadn’t made copies of them. Lawyers who planned better would have. Boring lawyers, who liked pumps. “Let’s briefly go through those types of tasks you performed. You drove him around, right?”
“Yeh.”
“He would tell you when to pick him up and even items to bring, right?”
“Yeh.”
“If he needed, let’s say, 20,000 square feet of plywood, builder’s grade, you would bring that, right?”
Bello blinked. “Uh, yeh.”
“If he needed extra groceries, like the Cento clam sauce his wife liked, you would bring them, right?”
“Yeh.” Bello glanced at the gallery, but Judy couldn’t afford to turn and see the reaction of Coluzzi’s widow.
“If he needed malathion and baby oil, so his pigeons didn’t get mites, you would bring it?”’
“Yeh.”
“If you got him the wrong thing, let’s say, normal peanuts to feed the pigeons instead of the raw Spanish peanuts, not roasted, no salt, you would go and get the right kind?”
“Yeh.”
“If he wanted you to bring him a Coke when you picked him up, you did that, too, am I right?”
“Objection,” Santoro said mildly, not bothering to rise. “Asked and answered, Your Honor.”
“I’ll move on,” Judy said quickly. Santoro wouldn’t understand the significance of the questions, but Bello would. He was already shifting in his chair. Judy checked her notes, which had run out of tapes and read, I’M SLEEPY. “So, Mr. Bello, since you were a friend of Mr. Coluzzi’s, you probably know a lot about who he liked and disliked, isn’t that right?”
“Yeh.”
“Isn’t it true that Mr. Coluzzi hated Tony Lucia, because Mr. Lucia’s wife had chosen to marry him instead of Mr. Coluzzi?”
“Objection!” Santoro shouted, jumping to his loafers. “Assumes facts not in evidence.”
