Read Online Directed Verdict (Failed Justice Book 1) by Rick Santini - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rick Santini
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want him to stare at it all day and night. And I’ll have a package for you. Leave it on the front door porch late tonight. Don’t be seen.”
Alexey had no good reason to add the last few words.
Boris merely nodded. “Yes, Mr. C.”
***
The “package” contained a small, black metal cage. Inside was one dead rat. There was no note. The message was loud and clear. Someone would die—soon.
Anthony was up and dressed by seven in the morning. He didn’t want to be late for his eight thirty appointment with Mr. DeAngelo. He almost tripped over the large brown paper bag sitting directly in front of the door.
The scream was heard two doors away. After seeing the dead rat, Anthony noticed the black sedan parked ominously directly across the street. He panicked, dropped the bag, and ran. He had no idea how long or far he ran, but fifteen minutes later he was a mass of sweat. Only part of it was caused by the running.
He was sitting in front of Mr. DeAngelo’s office, a store front a few blocks from the courthouse, when Angelo showed up.
“You look like shit. Or like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Anthony was still out of breath.
“I ran almost all the way, Mr. DeAngelo.”
“Did anyone see you? And where’s the cane?”
Angelo could see his one third fee floating out the door. No one with a broken leg runs like that. Ethically speaking, not that it ever bothered him; he had a duty to report the change of circumstances to the insurance company.
“Settle the case, Mr. DeAngelo. Settle it now or I want my file back. I checked. It’s my case, not yours. I don’t care what you tell them, just get me a check by the end of the week or you’re history. Am I making myself clear?”
“Perfectly.”
Neither of them saw the black sedan parked across the street. The one with the spy camera with the directional mike attached. The one that had recorded Anthony running down the street like an Olympic sprinter and then talking to his own attorney on the sidewalk in front of the law office. On a public street.
No violation of any privacy laws there.
“Let’s go. I have seen and heard all I need.”
“Da, Mr. C.”
CHAPTER 12
Angelo DeAngelo was not adverse to a few white lies. Maybe not so white. After all, he was a lawyer. He was a negligence lawyer. In fact, he was a perpetual ambulance chaser, the worst of the very worst.
In every insurance claims office in Newark was a small flyer in the coffee room.
BEWARE—Picture of negligence scum bags. Next to it was a photo of Angelo D. DeAngelo. He was that well known.
When the call came in from Mr. DeAngelo, bells and whistles went off in the adjuster’s head. DeAngelo never, never settled until he could squeeze the last buck out of the defendant, usually on the courthouse steps. If DeAngelo wanted to settle now, his case had to be in the crapper…or worse.
Charlie Whitehead, the old time insurance adjuster for LCI, Lawyers Co-op Insurance, agreed to meet with Angelo. Why not? He had nothing to lose. Besides, he couldn’t wait to hear Angelo’s latest fantasy.
The only question to be answered was, who wanted their money more? Angelo or Anthony. For Attorney Angelo DeAngelo, he had a file cabinet full of questionable cases. For Anthony Pauli Ricardo, it was his one and only chance at the brass ring.
If Alexey had any say, he would soon play a major role in the outcome.
***
“How would you like to study abroad for a year? Say in Barcelona or Paris.”
Vicky knew her father like a well-worn book. It was a bribe to stay out of the mess and he wasn’t even subtle about it.
“ Papa, when I find out why, I’ll go anywhere you send me. For now, I need to know the reason why the judge didn’t believe me. Why did he do what he did? It wasn’t my fault and everyone in that courtroom knew it. So why did the judge let him walk?”
Alexey did not have the answer. Yet.
“Give me some time, my little
Alexey had no good reason to add the last few words.
Boris merely nodded. “Yes, Mr. C.”
***
The “package” contained a small, black metal cage. Inside was one dead rat. There was no note. The message was loud and clear. Someone would die—soon.
Anthony was up and dressed by seven in the morning. He didn’t want to be late for his eight thirty appointment with Mr. DeAngelo. He almost tripped over the large brown paper bag sitting directly in front of the door.
The scream was heard two doors away. After seeing the dead rat, Anthony noticed the black sedan parked ominously directly across the street. He panicked, dropped the bag, and ran. He had no idea how long or far he ran, but fifteen minutes later he was a mass of sweat. Only part of it was caused by the running.
He was sitting in front of Mr. DeAngelo’s office, a store front a few blocks from the courthouse, when Angelo showed up.
“You look like shit. Or like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Anthony was still out of breath.
“I ran almost all the way, Mr. DeAngelo.”
“Did anyone see you? And where’s the cane?”
Angelo could see his one third fee floating out the door. No one with a broken leg runs like that. Ethically speaking, not that it ever bothered him; he had a duty to report the change of circumstances to the insurance company.
“Settle the case, Mr. DeAngelo. Settle it now or I want my file back. I checked. It’s my case, not yours. I don’t care what you tell them, just get me a check by the end of the week or you’re history. Am I making myself clear?”
“Perfectly.”
Neither of them saw the black sedan parked across the street. The one with the spy camera with the directional mike attached. The one that had recorded Anthony running down the street like an Olympic sprinter and then talking to his own attorney on the sidewalk in front of the law office. On a public street.
No violation of any privacy laws there.
“Let’s go. I have seen and heard all I need.”
“Da, Mr. C.”
CHAPTER 12
Angelo DeAngelo was not adverse to a few white lies. Maybe not so white. After all, he was a lawyer. He was a negligence lawyer. In fact, he was a perpetual ambulance chaser, the worst of the very worst.
In every insurance claims office in Newark was a small flyer in the coffee room.
BEWARE—Picture of negligence scum bags. Next to it was a photo of Angelo D. DeAngelo. He was that well known.
When the call came in from Mr. DeAngelo, bells and whistles went off in the adjuster’s head. DeAngelo never, never settled until he could squeeze the last buck out of the defendant, usually on the courthouse steps. If DeAngelo wanted to settle now, his case had to be in the crapper…or worse.
Charlie Whitehead, the old time insurance adjuster for LCI, Lawyers Co-op Insurance, agreed to meet with Angelo. Why not? He had nothing to lose. Besides, he couldn’t wait to hear Angelo’s latest fantasy.
The only question to be answered was, who wanted their money more? Angelo or Anthony. For Attorney Angelo DeAngelo, he had a file cabinet full of questionable cases. For Anthony Pauli Ricardo, it was his one and only chance at the brass ring.
If Alexey had any say, he would soon play a major role in the outcome.
***
“How would you like to study abroad for a year? Say in Barcelona or Paris.”
Vicky knew her father like a well-worn book. It was a bribe to stay out of the mess and he wasn’t even subtle about it.
“ Papa, when I find out why, I’ll go anywhere you send me. For now, I need to know the reason why the judge didn’t believe me. Why did he do what he did? It wasn’t my fault and everyone in that courtroom knew it. So why did the judge let him walk?”
Alexey did not have the answer. Yet.
“Give me some time, my little
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