cup of coffee. By nine-twenty she was tapping her fingers on the linoleum table top. Beano watched her carefully with a con man’s practiced eye. She was going to be a tough mark. She was definitely Type A, direct, no bullshit … the hardest kind. Type A’s were generally fastidious, so Beano decided on a plan. He wanted to wait until she was just about to leave. If this was a trap, and she had somebody else in the restaurant, they would communicate before she got up. She would wave the back-up over and they’d do some whispering … Whatta you think? Is he gonna show? Did he stand us up? Beano continued to observe her; she was important to the layout of his con. As the Prosecutor on the case, she had spent almost a year trying to convict Joseph Rina. That meant she was the greatest living expert on that Mafia Prince outside of his own family. She would have already deposed all of his friends and business associates. She would know about all of his legal and illegal activities, his known associates, his girlfriends, his enemies. She would have the background information Beano would need. Most attorneys at trial keep a copy of the complete case files with them, so if something comes up, they can have it at their fingertips. He hoped she had the bulk of this information in her oversized briefcase.
Beano had very little knowledge of Joseph Rina beyond the fact that he was an avid card player and was viciously effective with a nine-iron at close range. His brother, Tommy, was reputed to be something of a loose cannon. He was fiercely loyal to his younger brother and had protected him all his life. In fact, at the age of fifteen, Tommy had attacked an Irish thug named Sean Morrisey, who had threatened Joe. Tommy had beaten him to death outside a bar with a ballpeen hammer. Then a miracle occurred: The thug sat up on the Coroner’s table just before the autopsy. They rushed Morrisey to the hospital and he had been saved. The way the story went, two months later the resurrected boy had been walking down the street where the beating first happened and was shot in the back from a passing car. Because he’d killed him twice, Tommy Rina had been Tommy “Two Times” ever since. Other than that distressing piece of information, Beano knew next to nothing about Tommy.
Beano waited until the Prosecutor pulled up her huge briefcase and started digging around for her wallet to pay the bill; then he got out of his seat and crossed the restaurant toward her.
“Miss Hart?” he said, slightly out of breath.
She jerked her head up from her wallet and looked at him. “Cedric O’Neal?” Her expression said he wasn’t what she expected.
“Actually, no. I work with Ced O’Neal. He got stuck in New York on a pre-trial motion that got expedited at seven this morning. He called me and I got here as quick as I could. I hope you weren’t waiting long. I’m Martin Cushbury.” He handed her a card that said he was Martin Cushbury, Attorney at Law. The card was embossed in gold with the firm name of Lincoln, Forbes, O’Neal, and Ross. “I’m with our New Jersey office in Newark. I got his call at eight-thirty. I was in the damn shower. He tried to reach you but I guess you’d already left. … I got here quick as I could.”
“I have a ten o’clock court date, so we don’t have much time,” Victoria said, looking at her watch again.
“Okay, right. Well, uh … despite our lack of time, would it be all right if maybe I sat down?” he asked, grinning.
She motioned for him to sit and smiled apologetically, but didn’t speak. Beano thought her smile was stunning, but he pushed thoughts of her beauty away and went right to work. …
“Sorry I kept you waiting,” he said.
“Nine o’clock means nine o’clock, Mr. Cushbury,” Victoria lectured.
Angel came over and Beano ordered another big glass of orange juice. He smiled at her and let his face redden. “Uh … well, let’s get started then. … I don’t quite know what Ced told you, but we represent an African-American male named Anthony Heywood, who has some information which, I guess, Cedric thinks could be of some use to you on this Carol Sesnick matter. However, Mr. Heywood will need some protection against future prosecution. He’s afraid he