“Your Honor,” Judy said, “it’s cross-examination.”
Judge Vaughn was shaking his head. “Sustained. There’s no foundation, counsel.”
Judy nodded. She didn’t need the foundation, she had just laid one. As the law books said, you couldn’t unring the bell. “Thank you, Your Honor, I’ll rephrase. Mr. Bello, isn’t it true that Mr. Coluzzi hated Tony Lucia?”
Bello ran a tongue over his thick lips. “Well, uh, yeh.”
“Mr. Bello, you testified that when you came out of the bathroom, Mr. Pensiera and Mr. LoMonaco were standing there, and then you heard the yell, is that right?”
“Right?”
“Would you say that five minutes passed while you were standing there but before you heard the yell?”
“I dunno.”
Judy paused. “Let’s figure it out. You testified that you came out of the bathroom, and they said, ‘What are you doing here,’ and then you said, ‘What are you doing here?’ It would take less than a minute for this to happen, wouldn’t it?”
“Okay, right.”
“And then you heard your water boiling, is that right?”
“Yeh.”
“It takes about two minutes for an immersion coil to boil water, doesn’t it?”
“Uh, yeh.”
“So that’s two minutes for sure.” Judy paused. “And you had to go around the counter to unplug the immersion coil, is that right?”
“Yeh.”
Judy reached for her exhibit and placed it on the easel. “Mr. Bello, I show you Defense Exhibit One, a diagram of the first floor of the club. The counter is here, approximately fifteen feet long. Please show the jury, where is the plug you used for the coil?”
“At the far end.” He pointed, and Judy nodded. She knew the answer from The Two Tonys, who had told her it was the only outlet at the club that worked.
“Let the record show that the witness is pointing to the west end of the bar. Doesn’t that mean that you had to go the length of the bar
“Uh, yeh.”
“Wouldn’t it take you another two minutes to go around the counter, unplug the coil, come back again to where you were?” Judy didn’t refer to his weight. She didn’t need to.
“Yeh, prolly. I don’t move that fast, ever. And I wasn’t in no rush.” He laughed shortly, but the jury didn’t. They were listening, which gave Judy heart.
“So that’s four minutes, at least. Then how much after you came back from unplugging the coil did you hear the yell?”
“Right then.”
Judy paused. “So the two men were in the back room together for at least four minutes, maybe five.”
“Objection, that’s not what the witness said,” Santoro said, half rising.
“Overruled.” Judge Vaughn frowned.
“I’ll move on, Your Honor,” Judy said, as if it were a concession. She was on a roll. She had just proven that two men who hated each other had spent almost five minutes in a small room together. Who could say for sure who pushed whom first? It was Judy’s best hope for saving Pigeon Tony. The slender reed of reasonable doubt. But there was a big problem, and she went for it. “Mr. Bello, didn’t you testify that you were standing at the bar when you heard Mr. Lucia allegedly yell, ‘I’m gonna kill you,’ in Italian?”
“Yeh.”
Judy paused. “Mr. Bello, have you ever spoken to Mr. Lucia?”
“No.”
“Have you ever even heard him speak?”
“Uh, no.”
Judy could see one of the jurors reacting with a half smile in the back row. He was the electrician from Kensington and he got her point. If she pushed it further she’d lose it. “Mr. Bello, I’d like to move back in time for a moment, to the night of January twenty-fifth. That is the night that Tony Lucia’s son and daughter-in-law were killed in their truck, in an alleged truck accident. Do you recall where you were—”
“Objection, relevance!” Santoro said, rising, but Judy was already addressing Judge Vaughn.
“Your Honor, may we approach the bench?” She didn’t wait for him to nod his approval, though he did, and both lawyers went to the dais. “Your Honor,” Judy jumped in, “I know these questions seem unrelated but I have to ask the Court for some latitude, particularly in view of the fact that my client is on trial for his life. If I am permitted just a few questions to follow up, I think I can show the Court the relevance of the questions.”
Santoro was beside himself. “Your Honor, the defense is trying to muddy the waters here and distract the jury!”
Judy almost laughed. “Your Honor, the Commonwealth opened the door. Mr. Santoro is the one who raised the issue of the defendant’s belief about his son’s alleged accident, in the prosecution’s opening argument.”
Santoro stood on tiptoe. “Your Honor, I mentioned it but I haven’t called a single witness regarding the accident. It wasn’t important whether it was an accident or not, only that the defendant thought it wasn’t an accident. If Ms. Carrier goes forward with this point, I’ll be forced to bring in a witness to refute these allegations and prove that it was indeed, an accident.”
“So do it,” Judy said, but Judge Vaughn was nodding slowly.
“I’ll have to overrule the objection, for the time being. You did open the door, counsel.” Then he glanced at Judy. “But don’t travel too far afield, Ms. Carrier. No frolics and detours.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” she said. She returned to the podium as Santoro took his seat and started tapping on his laptop, trying to act casual, which wasn’t working. Judy felt a little nervous herself. She couldn’t get any guilt-stricken admissions from Bello, but she could rattle his cage. Because Bello didn’t know what she knew, or what she could prove, and therefore would only overestimate both. It would set up her defense, and it was all she had.
“Mr. Bello, do you recall where you were at midnight, the night Anthony Lucia’s son and daughter-in-law were killed in an alleged truck accident?”
“No.” Bello’s lips set firmly, as did Santoro’s, opposite him.
“Do you recall if you were with Angelo Coluzzi on that night?”
“No.”
“Even though you were with him, as you testified, 24-7?”
“No.”
“Do you keep any calendar, datebook, or the like that would remind you of where you were that evening?”
“No.”
“Mr. Bello, you are aware, aren’t you, that your telephone conversations from your home, including conversations with Angelo Coluzzi, were being taped at that time?”
“Objection!” Santoro erupted. “Irrelevant and prejudicial!”
Judy’s eyes were trained on Bello, whose upper lip twitched slightly. The jury was watching him, intrigued. They would remember it. He would remember it. And he wouldn’t be sure what was on the tape, especially after the opening questions, and could only assume it incriminated him. Judy figured it was time to get the hell out of Dodge. “I have no further questions, Your Honor.”
“I demand that the record be stricken, Your Honor!” Santoro shouted. “This is a bald attempt to smear a completely credible witness and confuse the jury!”
Judge Vaughn waved him into silence. “Relax, Mr. Santoro. I’ll sustain your objection, but we’re not striking the record over it.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Judy said, grabbing her exhibit. She felt flushed and happy until she headed back to counsel table and caught sight of Frank, in the front row of the gallery.
His skin had gone gray and he focused on Bello with fresh anguish. He had just found out that it had been Bello on the telephone with Coluzzi that night. He believed he was looking at his parents’ murderer. And his dark
