Judge & Jury by James Patterson, Andrew Gross Read Free Book Online

side of the board.
    Machia scratched his head. “To tell you the truth, Mr. Goldenberger, I never actually knew what Ralphie F.’s last name was.”
    The laughter grew heavier now. This would be good comedy if it wasn’t so deadly serious.
    “So your boss, Ralph Denunziatta, contacted you?”
    “He said the family needed this thing done. For the Boss.”
    “And by ‘this thing done,’ it was understood he meant a job, a hit? It meant you had to kill someone?”
    “It was understood what he meant, Mr. Goldenberger.”
    “And by the Boss”—the prosecutor faced the witness again—“you took that to mean . . . ?”
    “Dominic Cavello.” He pointed in the direction of the defendant. “They said a favor had to be done. There was this guy in New Jersey who was causing problems. Not a protected guy, just a regular civilian.”
    “And how did you feel about taking care of this, Mr. Machia? You knew that it meant killing somebody.”
    “I knew what it entailed, Mr. Goldenberger.” Machia glanced over toward the jury. For a second, Andie’s blood ran cold. She felt his eyes were fixed on her. “Ralphie told me how they had it all planned out. It would be a cinch. So I mean, I got this friend of mine to steal a car.”
    “By your friend, you’re referring to Steven Mannarino?” asked the prosecutor. He stepped back to his table and held up a large picture of a chubby, grinning kid with bushy hair in a Giants football jersey, maybe eighteen.
    “Yeah, Stevie.” Machia nodded. “We’d known each other since we were kids.”
    “So Mr. Mannarino was to steal the car?”
    “And some plates. It was decided the easiest place to hit the guy would be at his house when he came out for work in the morning. What do they call that kind of street that ends in a circle?”
    “A cul-de-sac,” the prosecutor said.
    “Yeah, cul-de-sac. We had several cars around, patrolling the area. Checking for cops. Tommy Moose was in one—Tommy Mussina. Ralphie reported directly to him. We did a dry run two days before. We tailed the mark. This Jewish guy. He kissed his wife good-bye at the door. Seemed like an all-right guy.”
    “But you were willing to go through with it anyway?” the prosecutor asked.
    Machia shrugged, taking a long sip from his water bottle. “Not like you have a lot of choice, Mr. Goldenberger. I seen guys put away for turning down a job. You don’t go through with it, you could be next. Besides . . .”
    “Besides what, Mr. Machia?” the prosecutor urged him on.
    “It was a favor for the Boss, Mr. Goldenberger. You don’t turn that down.”
    “And how did you know this, sir?”
    “Ralphie said it was for the Electrician.”
    “And by ‘the Electrician,’ he meant who, Mr. Machia?”
    “Objection!” Cavello’s attorney stood up with a scowl. Andie looked at O’Flynn; they already had a name for the lawyer in the jury room. The Eyebrow.
    “Sorry, Your Honor,” the prosecutor apologized. “So by ‘the Electrician,’ Mr. Machia, you understood that Ralphie D. meant who? ”
    “Dominic Cavello. The Electrician, that was his name. Ralphie worked for Tommy. Tommy worked for the Boss.”
    The prosecutor nodded, clearly pleased. “So you knew this hit was for the Boss, meaning Mr. Cavello, wholly because Ralphie D. said this to you?”
    “ That, and the other thing.” Machia shrugged.
    “What other thing, Mr. Machia?” The prosecutor turned, his voice rising.
    There was a pause. Louis Machia settled back in his chair. For the first time, Cavello’s eyes lifted toward the witness. Machia took a couple gulps of water. Then he put the bottle down.
    “Those cars I spoke of, Mr. Goldenberger, driving around. Dominic Cavello was in one, too.”

Chapter 15
    THEY BROKE FOR LUNCH, and Andie spent it outside in Foley Square. It was cold, but still pretty nice for November. She ate a tuna wrap on a ledge, going over some proofreading for the neighborhood newspaper she worked for part-time. She made