JК
Are You Afraid Of The Dark :: Sheldon Sidney
Страница: 4 из 173Gray jacket, darkblue trousers, light blue tie, an expensive watch on the left wrist. Greenburg knelt down and started going through the victim's jacket pockets.
In one pocket, his fingers found a note. He pulled it out, holding it by its edge. It read: "Washington. Monday, 10 a.m. Prima." He looked at it a moment, puzzled.
Greenburg reached into another pocket, finding another note. "It's in Italian." He glanced around. "Gianelli!" One of the uniformed police officers hurried up to him. "Yes, sir?" Greenburg handed him the note. "Can you read this?" Gianelli read it aloud slowly. " 'Last chance. Meet me at pier seventeen with the rest of the dope or swim with the fishes.'" He handed it back.
Robert Praegitzer looked surprised. "A Mafia hit? Why would they leave him out here like this, in the open?" "Good question." Greenburg was going through the corpse's other pockets. He pulled out a wallet and opened it. It was heavy with cash. "They sure as hell weren't after his money." He took a card from the wallet. "The victim's name is Richard Stevens." Praegitzer frowned. "Richard Stevens… Didn't we read something about him in the papers recently?" Greenburg said, "His wife. Diane Stevens. She's in court, in the Tony Altieri murder trial." Praegitzer said, "That's right. She's testifying against the capo di capos." And they both turned to look at Richard Stevens's body.
CHAPTER 1
IN DOWNTOWN MANHATTAN, in courtroom thirty-seven of the Supreme Court Criminal Term building at 180 Centre Street, the trial of Anthony (Tony) Altieri was in session. The large, venerable courtroom was filled to capacity with press and spectators.
At the defendant's table sat Anthony Altieri, slouched in a wheelchair, looking like a pale, fat frog folding in on itself. Only his eyes were alive, and every time he looked at Diane Stevens in the witness chair, she could literally feel the pulse of his hatred.
Next to Altieri sat Jake Rubenstein, Altieri's defense attorney. Rubenstein was famous for two things: his high-profile clientele, consisting mostly of mobsters, and the fact that nearly all of his clients were acquitted.
Rubenstein was a small, dapper man with a quick mind and a vivid imagination. He was never the same in his courtroom appearances. Courtroom histrionics were his stock-in-trade, and he was highly skilled. He was brilliant at sizing up his opponents, with a feral instinct for finding their weaknesses.
In one pocket, his fingers found a note. He pulled it out, holding it by its edge. It read: "Washington. Monday, 10 a.m. Prima." He looked at it a moment, puzzled.
Greenburg reached into another pocket, finding another note. "It's in Italian." He glanced around. "Gianelli!" One of the uniformed police officers hurried up to him. "Yes, sir?" Greenburg handed him the note. "Can you read this?" Gianelli read it aloud slowly. " 'Last chance. Meet me at pier seventeen with the rest of the dope or swim with the fishes.'" He handed it back.
Robert Praegitzer looked surprised. "A Mafia hit? Why would they leave him out here like this, in the open?" "Good question." Greenburg was going through the corpse's other pockets. He pulled out a wallet and opened it. It was heavy with cash. "They sure as hell weren't after his money." He took a card from the wallet. "The victim's name is Richard Stevens." Praegitzer frowned. "Richard Stevens… Didn't we read something about him in the papers recently?" Greenburg said, "His wife. Diane Stevens. She's in court, in the Tony Altieri murder trial." Praegitzer said, "That's right. She's testifying against the capo di capos." And they both turned to look at Richard Stevens's body.
CHAPTER 1
IN DOWNTOWN MANHATTAN, in courtroom thirty-seven of the Supreme Court Criminal Term building at 180 Centre Street, the trial of Anthony (Tony) Altieri was in session. The large, venerable courtroom was filled to capacity with press and spectators.
At the defendant's table sat Anthony Altieri, slouched in a wheelchair, looking like a pale, fat frog folding in on itself. Only his eyes were alive, and every time he looked at Diane Stevens in the witness chair, she could literally feel the pulse of his hatred.
Next to Altieri sat Jake Rubenstein, Altieri's defense attorney. Rubenstein was famous for two things: his high-profile clientele, consisting mostly of mobsters, and the fact that nearly all of his clients were acquitted.
Rubenstein was a small, dapper man with a quick mind and a vivid imagination. He was never the same in his courtroom appearances. Courtroom histrionics were his stock-in-trade, and he was highly skilled. He was brilliant at sizing up his opponents, with a feral instinct for finding their weaknesses.