"How's Klinger?" he asked, not that he cared; she was part of the whole corrupt mess.
"They took her to the hospital and gave her a shot to calm her down, and the trial, what's left of it, has been postponed until the day after tomorrow."
"Okay, thanks," Karp said. He waited for the young woman to leave, but she remained standing behind him as if trying to decide what to do next.
"Yes? Is there something else?"
Fischer nodded. "Yes, there is." She handed him an envelope. "I think you've been trying to find what's inside," she said.
Karp opened it and pulled out a letter. Dated and stamped as received by the Kings County DAO was the letter from Kaminsky to Breman. He looked up at Fischer.
"Thank you," he said. "It took a lot of guts to give me this."
"You'll find the real letter in Judge Klinger's safe, if you can get a subpoena for it." The young woman turned to go.
"Wait, can I ask you why you're giving this to me now?" he said.
Fischer shrugged. "I guess I got tired of hiding."
"Hiding?"
"Yes," she said. "You see, Verene Fischer is not my real name. I changed my name ten years ago. My real name is Hannah Little."
Two days later, Marlene was getting ready to go to court to watch her husband's "grand finale," as he put it, though he wouldn't discuss the details. She was almost out the door when the telephone rang. Sighing, she picked it up.
"Marlene, oh, God, Marlene," her father sobbed.
"What is it this time, Dad?" she said. "Is she missing again?"
"No, Marlene," he cried, and began to sob and wouldn't speak.
Alarmed, Marlene shouted. "Dad, pull yourself together. What's happened? Is Mom all right?"
"No," he said in a voice that was almost a whine. "She's dead. I woke up this morning and she wasn't breathing. Oh, Marlene, please, come help me."
"Dad, are you sure?"
"Yes, oh, yes, her eyes are open, but she isn't breathing and she's…she's cold, Marlene."
"Dad, I'm on my way," she said. "It will be okay. Just go down to the living room and sit down."
Marlene arrived at her parents' home in record time. She rushed into the house and up to her parents' bedroom with her father trailing behind.
"What am I going to do? What am I going to do?" he wailed.
Marlene stopped in the doorway when she saw her mother and then walked over slowly. Concetta Ciampi lay in the bed, her brown eyes fixed on the crucifix above the bed but no longer seeing it.
Marlene felt for a pulse, knowing there would be none. She was going to close her mother's eyelids when she noticed something and bent closer. Hardly noticeable, the small blood vessels in the eyes had ruptured. A sign of asphyxiation. She then noticed a crumpled pillow next to her mother's head. On one side there was a smeared lipstick stain, the same color her mother was wearing, and a damp spot.
"Oh, Marlene," her father cried. "What are we going to do?"
Marlene blinked back the tears, removed the pillowcase from the pillow, and closed her mother's eyelids. "I'm going to take you to my home, Pops," she said. "Then I'm going to come back and take care of Momma."
Karp looked at his watch and then at the back of the courtroom. He'd hoped Marlene would show but it was time to get the ball rolling.
That morning he'd met with Hugh Louis in his office. Louis had begun by blustering that the "mayhem" of two days ago didn't change the fact that his clients were still suing the city. "I'll get a new jury…we'll do it all over again…unless you want to settle this now."
"Shut up, Louis," Karp snarled. "And let me tell you how this is going to go down." He pulled out the Kaminsky letter and shoved it in Louis's face. "You're about to be indicted, but if you want to save your fat ass a few years in the big house, here's the deal."
An hour later, Karp was sitting in the courtroom wishing Marlene would show up when Klinger entered. She looked at the empty plaintiffs' table and demanded to know what was going on.
Karp, who had not bothered to rise, held a finger up-a sign for the judge to hold on for a minute.
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Karp," she sputtered. "Since when do you tell this court what to do."
"Hold on a moment, your honor, I'm waiting for some paperwork before we can begin," he said. "Ah, here it is now."
Harry Kipman rushed into the room flanked by U.S. Marshals and NYPD police officers. "Here you go, boss," he said, handing Karp two documents. "Everything went like clockwork."
Karp quickly looked over the paperwork and smiled as he rose to his feet. "Your honor, I have two applications," he said. "The first is that the attorney for the plaintiffs, Hugh Louis, has filed a motion to dismiss the case. I might add that Mr. Louis is now under indictment."
Klinger swallowed hard and nodded. "Very well," she said, her voice trembling, "case dismissed." She got up to leave.
"Your honor, I said I had two applications," Karp replied. The judge turned slowly to face him. "The second application is that you're under arrest."
"This is outrageous…on what grounds?"
"We'll start with obstruction of justice. Based on the grand jury testimony from Verene Fischer, also known as Hannah Little, and Hugh Louis. Kristine Breman-who was arrested in her office earlier this morning-and you have been indicted by the grand jury down the street in the Criminal Courts building. The U.S. Marshals are present to take you into custody and hand you over to the NYPD."
"I want a lawyer," the judge said.
"You better get a good one," he replied as the marshals rushed past.
Epilogue
Two weeks later, Karp met with the team involved with the Coney Island trial at his office. It was a sort of celebration that had been delayed because of the death of Marlene's mother and her subsequent funeral.
Guma had furnished a cooler with beer on ice, and even Mrs. Milquetost was letting her hair down, so to speak, by sipping on a Coors. He figured they all deserved it as it had been a busy, as well as an emotionally draining, couple of weeks.
Breman and Klinger had been indicted for obstruction of justice and withholding of evidence. Between them and Rachman, he was sure that it wouldn't be long before the press started accusing him of being prejudiced against women in the justice system.
Newbury was in the process of adding on to the current indictment against Hugh Louis a host of charges, starting with conspiracy to commit murder in the death of Ivan Kaminsky. The now Coney Island Three were engaged in a competition for who could spill his guts-all of it properly recorded in the presence of their lawyers-to finger Louis as directing Sykes to kill Ivan.
Newbury had hoped that they might also nail Olav Radinskaya on the conspiracy charge to go along with the indictments facing Zulu, Lindahl, and Ewen for the No Prosecution and Coney Island Four conspiracies, but the Russian had disappeared a few days after the trial. His body had subsequently been found floating beneath the pylons of the Coney Island pier, an apparent victim of a garrote.
In fact, there seemed to be something unhealthy in the air for anyone involved in these most recent cases. Ted Vanders, who, according to a note typed on his computer, was distraught over losing his beloved Sarah Ryder, had apparently committed suicide by throwing himself off the fire escape of his Minetta Street apartment.
The wheels of justice grinding away, Karp thought as he looked around his office. Repass and Russell were over in a corner laughing as they fended off Guma's attempts to get them drunk "and let you take advantage of us." Stupenagel and Murrow were arguing some point with Kipman, while Newbury smirked.