Killer Smile

Forty-Eight

Rovitch drew himself up to his full height at the lectern. “Well, Mrs. Nyquist, that was quite a story.”

Mary bit her tongue. She wouldn’t object unless Mrs. Nyquist was in real trouble. The woman broke broncos for fun.

“It was the truth, sir,” Mrs. Nyquist answered, folding her hands on the stand, and Mary thought she saw a slight tremble. Even cowgirls aren’t bulletproof.

“Mrs. Nyquist, I find it strange that you appear with these documents that make Ms. DiNunzio’s day, and just in the nick of time.”

“Is that a question, Your Honor?” Mrs. Nyquist asked Judge Gemmill, and the judge shook her head.

“Not in my book.”

“Mrs. Nyquist, my question is when is the last time you met with counsel for the estate, Mary DiNunzio?”

“A week ago, last Wednesday.”

“And where did that meeting take place?”

“At my home in Butte.”

“Was Ms. Carrier or Bennie Rosato present at the meeting?”

Mrs. Nyquist blinked. “Who are they?”

Judy laughed softly and passed Mary a note: NOBODY.

“Who else was present at your meeting?”

“Just us, and it wasn’t a meeting.”

“What was it then?”

“She came by for coffee and pie, she was trying to find out about Gio and Amadeo.”

“Mrs. Nyquist, at this meeting, did you discuss with Ms. DiNunzio the testimony you would be giving today?”

“No.”

“Did you discuss your testimony with her at all before you gave it today?”

“No.”

“Did you discuss your testimony with anyone from her office before you gave it today?”

“No.”

Rovitch blinked. “You mean to tell this Court that you simply appeared, here in this courtroom, with this document?”

“Yes.”

At counsel table, Mary almost laughed out loud. I know, I can’t believe it either.

Rovitch paused. “Has Ms. DiNunzio contacted you since your meeting in Butte?”

“No, she hasn’t returned my call. I’ve left two messages but she hasn’t called back.”

Back at counsel table, Mary felt a pang of guilt. Her messages. She flashed on Marshall, lecturing her when she was on the way out of the office, with Judy.

Rovitch leaned over the lectern. “Then how, pray tell, did you even know to come here this morning, to this courtroom?”

“I didn’t.” Mrs. Nyquist shook her head. “I went to Mary’s office but there were so many damn reporters there I couldn’t even get in. Then one of ’em told me everybody was here, so I took a cab and came down here to see her. Then I saw her getting out of a cab, and I tried to call her, but there were still so many damn reporters louder ’en me, I couldn’t holler over ’em.”

The poor woman. Mary smiled, and the gallery chuckled, too.

Rovitch jingled some change in his pocket and rocked back and forth on his loafers for a minute. “Mrs. Nyquist, why is it, then, that you came all the way out to Philadelphia?”

“To bring Mary the contract.”

“How did you know she needed it?”

“Because when she came to visit me, she told me she thought Gio murdered Amadeo, and I figured this might be the reason why.”

Wow. Mary’s eyes flared open at the revelation. The gallery startled, and even Judge Gemmill was surprised. Saracone looked like he could kill, and Rovitch stood at the lectern, wanting to object to his own question. Mary shuddered. I’d go with no further questions, pal.

Mrs. Nyquist added, “And it’s been botherin’ me, gnawin’ at me, and my grandson showed me how on the Internet it was the big news story here in Philadelphia. I thought she might need my help.” She nodded at Mary. “She’s a hardworkin’ gal and she’s tryin’ to do right by Amadeo.”

Mary felt a rush of warmth for Mrs. Nyquist and couldn’t help but nod in acknowledgment of her kindness.

Rovitch sighed. “No further questions, Your Honor.”

Judge Gemmill turned to Mrs. Nyquist. “You may step down. Thank you for your testimony, and have a safe trip back home.”

Mary was already on her feet. “Your Honor, we move now for a temporary restraining order against Justin Saracone and Saracone Industries.”

“Granted, Ms. DiNunzio,” Judge Gemmill ruled, banging the gavel, and the courtroom erupted into chatter and applause.

We won! Mary threw her arms around Judy, and when Mrs. Nyquist came over, Mary hugged her, too. In fact, she hugged the deputy, two of the law clerks, and the stenographer.

The gallery exploded, the circolo started a conga line, and the judge pounded her gavel again.

Crak! Crak! “It is hereby ordered that plaintiff’s requested relief is granted, the particulars of the order to be issued by chambers later today and released to the press. Dates for the preliminary hearing and subsequent trial to be scheduled later, counsel.”

Crak! Judge Gemmill banged the gavel, with a final sound. “Lastly,” she continued, “pursuant to Federal Rule of Civil Procedure 65, a security bond must be posted by the estate. I order that such bond be in the amount of one hundred thousand dollars. Ms. DiNunzio?”

“Yes, Your Honor?”

“I said, one hundred thousand dollars is your bond.”

“My…bond?”

“Your bond. You’ve read the rule, correct?” Judge Gemmill frowned and picked up a piece of paper from the dais. “Rule 65(c) provides that ‘no restraining order or preliminary injunctions shall issue except upon the giving of security by the applicant, in such sum as the court deems proper.’ ” Judge Gemmill peered over the top of her glasses at Mary, who froze in place.

A hundred thousand dollars? Where am I gonna get that kind of money? The estate is broke. I have $3750 in savings. I mean, I didn’t plan on actually winning.

“Counsel, as you know, I cannot issue a TRO unless the bond is posted. The reason, as you well know, is that in the event that you lose on the merits, the defendant is compensated for his loss. As I see it, his immediate loss would be the postponing of the sale of rights to Reinhardt, perhaps for one week, which delay would only be for a nominal amount.”

A hundred thousand dollars is nominal? Plus, if I lose at trial, I lose the hundred thousand, too? Which I don’t have? Is that even possible?

“DiNunzio!” called a voice, and Mary turned to the gallery.

Bennie Rosato was standing up. Trademark suit. Trademark hair. And trademark smile. “Your Honor, Rosato amp; Associates will post the bond. I’ll accompany Ms. DiNunzio down to the Clerk’s Office directly.”

Really? Mary looked at Bennie, dumbfounded.

“I’d bet on you any day.” Bennie beamed. “You’re a winner, kid.”

“Thank you,” Mary said, and resisted hugging her, but just barely.

In the next moment, a defeated Justin Saracone stormed past her and out the bar of court, with his unhappy lawyer hurrying behind.