Sal Gabrini: Burning Love Page 2

  Sweets hurried up front, her heart pounding too as she was unsure what she would find. When she saw the dead man, she stopped in her tracks and let out a blood curling scream.

  But Sal was methodical. This wasn’t his first time at the rodeo. He knew Security heard those gun shots. He knew they would be on their way. He knew he had no business having a woman in his lodge.

  “Go through the back,” he ordered Sweets.

  Sweets looked at Sal. She looked at the man she still cared for, even though she knew he didn’t give a damn about her. And she did as she was told.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Bold and the Beautiful went to a commercial break, and the Judge, who had been watching the entire telecast as if he was alone in his chambers, finally turned his attention to his guests: Defense Attorney Gemma Jones-Gabrini and Prosecutor Jasper Lowe. “You have two minutes, Mrs. Gabrini,” he said as Gemma and Jasper stood before him. “Talk.”

  Gemma held a DVD in her hand. She was already fuming when she got in Chambers, but to have to wait for a soap opera to go to a commercial only exacerbated her outrage. “The Prosecution had this video weeks before the trial started,” she said, “and they illegally withheld it, Your Honor. We did not get even a hint of this evidence at Discovery. But because of their illegal act, my client has been subjected all week long to lies and innuendo when the State knew there was evidence that contradicted everything those witnesses were saying on the stand.”

  “Oh, come on, Gemma,” the prosecutor countered. “You know that’s not true! There was no contradiction whatsoever. All that video proved is that the suspect wasn’t inside the main hall of that club the night of the rape. But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t there.”

  “Then prove he was, Jasper,” Gemma retorted. “The State has the burden of proof, not my client. Prove he was there. This video says he wasn’t there. Show me the video that says he was.”

  “She has a point, Counsel,” the Judge said to Jasper. “I have no doubt in my mind that you and your staff withheld that video. This idea that you quote unquote ‘stumbled’ upon it this late in the trial is a bunch of bull and you know it. The question before me now isn’t whether or not you withheld exculpatory evidence. You did. The question is what remedy should I impose.”

  “Because the offense is so egregious,” Gemma said, feeling hopeful, “I request that all charges against my client be dismissed. I request a summary judgement, sir.”

  “You may request anything you like,” the Judge responded, “but you won’t be getting it. I will instruct the Jurors to disregard certain testimony that stated the Defendant was inside the club’s main hall the night of the rape. However, the prosecution is also correct that the crime took place, not in the main hall where the video was taken, but in a backroom where no video, at least to our knowledge, exists. I will tell the jurors that too.”

  Gemma couldn’t believe it. “But, your Honor, that will leave my client in a worse position that what he’s in right now.”

  “I will also show the video to the jurors to confirm in their minds that the Defendant was not inside the main hall at or before the time of the incident,” the judge continued. “That’s the best I can do.”

  “But Judge,” Gemma pleaded, “you can’t un-ring that bell! The fact that Jasper paraded all of those witnesses before the jury is an insurmountable hurdle for my client to jump. The damage has already been done. The jurors already heard all week long that he was inside that club.”

  “And maybe he was inside it,” the Judge said. “The main hall isn’t the only part of that club, Mrs. Gabrini, and you know it. Maybe he went in through a backdoor. Who knows? A jury instruction is all your client is going to get. Now both of you may leave my chambers and stop bothering me, and I will see you tomorrow morning at nine. Be prepared for closing arguments. I want this case to go to the jury tomorrow. No exceptions. Good day.”

  Gemma couldn’t believe it. And she couldn’t help herself. “This is so unfair to my client, your Honor,” she said.

  The judge looked at her. “Life is unfair,” he responded. “You’re Black. You should be used to that by now.”

  Gemma wanted to cuss his ass out. Life may be unfair, she wanted to yell, but justice wasn’t supposed to be! But she caught herself. Her client still had to face this judge. Her client still had his liberty on the line.

  She and Jasper left the judge’s chambers. And as soon as they did, Jasper couldn’t help but gloat. He knew he’d gotten over. Again. “You win some and you lose some, Gemma Jones,” he said in deference to the name she was known around the courtroom before her marriage to a Gabrini. “Maybe next time.”

  But Gemma knew, whenever there was prosecutorial misconduct in Vegas, that she and every other defense attorney was going to lose every time. She knew the judge’s remedy was a slap on the wrist given what Jasper’s office had done. She knew that remedy didn’t rise anywhere near the same level as Jasper’s decision to withhold such crucial evidence. But that was why the prosecutor’s office continued to get away with their illegal acts in case after case after case. And Jasper, as the District Attorney and the man in charge of the office, was smiling and basking in knowing how easily he got away with it.

  But it wasn’t funny to Gemma. Innocent men and women were rotting in prison right now because of the D.A.’s unethical practices. Gemma was convinced of it. She was also convinced, as she and Jasper parted ways, that something had to be done. This was getting ridiculous!

  She made her way downstairs, to the courthouse cafeteria, to grab lunch and catch up on her text messages. She paid for her sandwich, sat at a table alone, and pulled out her phone. But before she bothered with reading any texts, she placed on her reading glasses and turned on the phone app Sal had installed that tracked their baby’s every move.

  Their baby, Salvatore Luciano Gabrini, Junior, better known as Lucky, was at home with the Nanny. Gemma smiled when she saw him lying on the blanket in their massive backyard, laughing as Nanny held up different toys and made faces. Security was tight, Sal saw to that, but Lucky was as happy as a lark. He was the dearest thing in this world to them. Although he had several other nicknames, Sal and Gemma took to calling him Lucky because of the kidnapping that occurred mere minutes after his birth, and how he survived that hellish ordeal. The kid, as his proud father often put it, had to fight for survival from the moment he was born.

  “Hey, Gem,” a voice said above her head and she looked up. It was Ben Walker, a middle-aged civil rights attorney and the man who had been pressuring her about running against Jasper in the upcoming election.

  “Not again, Benny,” she said.

  He sat down at her table. “Yes, again, Gemma. I heard what happened in Judge Maren’s chambers today.”

  Gemma was astounded. That grapevine in this place was faster than the speed of light! “You heard?” she asked. “How could you have heard? It literally just happened.”

  “Jasper’s bragging again,” Ben responded. “You know how sickening he can be. That’s why you have to do this, Gem.”

  Gemma looked back at her baby on the monitor. “I don’t have to do anything,” she said.

  “Let me rephrase that,” Ben said. “You’re our best hope of success. You need to do it. If you run, we just might beat that asshole. We just might pull this thing off.”

  Gemma looked at Ben over her stylish reading glasses. Ben was a white liberal who was more passionate about issues concerning African-Americans than many African-Americans were. “We?” she asked.

  “Well, not we exactly. But people of color. You know what that D.A.s office is up to. They hide evidence. They don’t bring forth witnesses that can exonerate our clients. They manufacture evidence to fit their theory of the case. And these weak-kneed Judges let them get away with it every time. But they aren’t equal opportunity destroyers. Oh, no. Let’s not even pretend that they are. It’s always defendants of color they pull this shit on. Every time. Always. That’s why I say we. We�
�ve got to stop this. And you’re the best one to do it.”

  Gemma frowned. “Why am I the best one, Benny? Any upstanding attorney around this place can challenge Jasper.”

  “No, they can’t.”

  “And why not?”

  “Because challenging Japser Lowe, running to unseat him as District Attorney, is going to take money. Big money. I’m talking major money. Your husband’s kind of money.”

  Then Ben stood up. “I’ve got to be in court. But when I heard Jasper bragging, I had to drop by and at least get you thinking about it again. Think about all those brothers and sisters sitting in those prisons because of the prosecution’s dirty tricks. You can get in there and clean house, Gemma. And the brothers and sisters who are guilty, then they go to jail. But not with manufactured evidence or exculpatory evidence withheld. Every man will get the same shake. You can change things.”

  Gemma removed her glasses and looked up at Ben. He was a renowned civil rights attorney who took every case to heart. He was the one who really should be running the D.A.s office, given his passion. But given his liberal politics, his far-left wing politics, he wouldn’t stand a chance.

  And she nodded. “Alright, Ben,” she said, “I’ll give it serious consideration.”

  Ben smiled. Then his look turned serious. “There’s only one problem.”

  What now, Gemma wondered. “What problem?”

  “The deadline for filing to run in the upcoming election is today.”

  Gemma couldn’t believe it. “Today?”

  “You can change your mind later and withdraw that filing. But you can’t run if you don’t file by close of business today.”

  Gemma stared at Ben. She had no clue a decision would have to be made this quickly! She thought there was more time.

  Ben could see how torn she was from that look in her pretty eyes. “I know,” he said. “That’s why I had to come and see you even though I’m late for court. If you don’t file today, Jasper will surely get reelected and all those brothers and sisters will continue to get the shaft. I know I’m asking a lot. But I’ll be with you. My people will be with you. You’ll win this thing, Gemma. I have absolute confidence.”

  Then Ben reiterated that he had to be in court; that he was super late. And he left.

  Gemma leaned back in her chair. She’d been toying with the idea for months, even before Ben approached her several weeks ago. Sal even said he was tired of her railing against the system and doing nothing about it. Do something, he told her on more than one occasion. Although Sal was shady as hell, and had underhanded dealings she knew weren’t on the up and up, he felt having his wife run the D.A.’s office might be a good thing. If he or his people got in trouble, they would have an inside track. But Gemma wouldn’t run for office to play favorites. She, in fact, wanted the job for the very opposite reason and Sal had to know that. But she was pleased he wouldn’t object.

  And that was why she left her sandwich on the table, grabbed her phone and briefcase, and made her way out of the cafeteria. She wasn’t an impulsive person. In fact, she was a very deliberate person. But the deadline was here. She was either going to continue to complain and do nothing, or stop the complaining and do something. She decided to do something.

  She got into her car, a sleek Aston-Martin her husband bought for her, and headed straight to the office of the Supervisor of Elections. Shocking even herself, she filed papers to oppose Jasper Lowe in his upcoming reelection bid as District Attorney. It took nearly two hours of her time, but it was worth it to her. Because if successful, she was going to do what she had been waiting on others to do for a long time, and completely transform the D.A.’s office. If she won, she was going to clean house of every crooked prosecutor that resided there.

  But as quickly as her focus fell on cleaning out the D.A.’s office, her focus shifted suddenly as she realized she had her own house cleaning to do. She had only just walked out of the Elections office, drained from all of the paperwork and questions she had to endure, but nonetheless uplifted, and was heading to her car. Another car, a very familiar Porsche, drove up and stopped at her side. She wondered how in the world did they find her so easily? She didn’t tell anybody she was coming to this place. Did Sal have GPS on her ass?

  As soon as the window of the Porsche was pressed down and she saw, as she suspected, that it was Reno Gabrini, her husband’s first cousin and the Gabrini family patriarch, she knew something awful had happened. Reno owned the PaLargio Hotel and Casino on the Vegas Strip. He was a very busy man. He didn’t deliver messages unless they were dire ones.

  “What’s happened?” she asked before he could say a word.

  “Get in the car, Gemma,” Reno ordered.

  Gemma’s heart began to hammer. But she didn’t hesitate.

  Reno watched as she walked around the front of his car toward the passenger side door. She wore a sleeveless yellow silk blouse that highlighted her dark chocolate toned arms and her ample breasts, and a form-fitting pleated skirt that hung just above her knees and that highlighted her gorgeously long, shapely legs. He could clearly see why Sal was always all over that. He’d be all over it too, if she was his. But she wasn’t his. Trina was. And although he loved Gemma above any other woman in the Gabrini/Sinatra family, and found her sexy as hell, Trina’s look, style, and heart would still, in Reno’s mind anyway, put any other woman’s to shame. Even Gemma.

  Gemma opened the door of Reno’s Porsche and sat herself and her briefcase down on the front passenger seat. “What’s wrong?” she asked immediately. “Is Sal alright?”

  “He’s alright,” Reno said as he began driving off. “But we have ourselves a situation.” He looked down, at her narrow waist. “Put on your seatbelt.”

  Gemma began buckling up, but his words still echoed in her mind. “What situation?” she asked. “Where’s Sal?”

  “He’s still at the lodge.”

  Gemma frowned. “The lodge? What lodge?”

  Reno looked at her. “The one he owns at the Granville Golf and Country Club over on Youngerman’s. You know.”

  But Gemma didn’t know. Once again, she was caught flatfooted concerning yet another one of Sal’s numerous residences across this country she knew nothing about. Residences she knew he was using in his other life as a member of the mob. As a major mob boss. But the idea that he would have one right here in Vegas, right here in the town in which they resided, astounded her.

  But that wasn’t Reno’s business. “What happened at the lodge?” she asked him.

  Based on Gemma’s look alone, Reno knew Sal’s slick ass hadn’t told her about the lodge. Sal owned it for years. Long before he even met Gemma. But that was no excuse. “Some guy had entered the house, uninvited, and Sal had to shoot the guy.”

  A feeling of dread shot through Gemma’s body. “But Sal’s alright?”

  Reno nodded. “He’s fine. His ass too mean to be anything else.” Then Reno’s big blue eyes glazed over. “But the guy bit the dust.”

  Gemma closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. Another killing. Another man down by her husband’s hands. And she wanted to be D.A. Was she nuts? Would most of her cases involve her own husband???

  Reno drove out of the parking lot and used that freedom to pick up significantly more speed. He shifted gears and flew like he usually did on the road. Then he glanced at Gemma. She had the darkest, smoothest skin he’d ever seen. And with her high cheekbones and flawless dress style, she continued to rank as the most exotically beautiful woman he knew. A woman Sal’s ass didn’t deserve. “There’s more,” he said.

  Gemma opened her eyes and looked at him. “More? What more?” she asked.

  “The guy he shot was unarmed.”

  But Gemma didn’t see that as an issue. “What difference does that make if the guy had entered Sal’s lodge illegally? He has a right to defend his property.”

  “But apparently, this particular guy was supposed to be there. He hadn’t entered the property illegally. It’
s confusing I know, but that’s what Sal told me when the cops allowed him to phone me. He wanted me to find you, and bring you to him.”

  “They aren’t going to arrest him, are they?” Gemma asked.

  “Who knows? Some of those cops get their hands on a Gabrini, they get happy. Right and wrong fly out the window. But you’re coming. You’ve grown into a regular bulldog of a lawyer, and they know it. They might try that shit, but they won’t get away with it.”

  Gemma nodded. “I know that’s right.”

  “I don’t know how this is going to play in the press, however,” Reno continued, “but at least we can make sure they get the legal part right.”

  Gemma didn’t understand his concern. “Why would the press try to play this up? This had to be just one shooting of many in the city.”

  “Maybe. But there happens to be similarities to another case Sal was involved in.”

  Gemma was at a loss. “What other case?”

  Reno turned yet another corner, shifted gears again, and picked up even more speed. “It was a case when Sal was a cop.”

  Gemma nodded. “Okay.”

  “The reason he quit the force was because of that night he mistook some elderly Nigerian couple for drug dealers, and shot both of them to death. You knew about that?”

  “He told me, yes.”

  “Tommy seems to think Sal was full of shit back then,” Reno continued, “and was claiming he pulled the trigger when he didn’t. He was protecting one of his officers. But the point is, the couple were unarmed and black. The guy Sal shot today was unarmed and black.” Reno glanced at Gemma. “The press is already playing it up.”

  Gemma didn’t think this could get any worse. Sal shot an unarmed man was bad enough. But add race to the equation, despite the fact that she was certain race had nothing to do with it, and things could get combustible fast. She knew how sensitive Sal was, given his less than stellar past, to any claim of racism.

  “Get me there faster, Reno,” Gemma urged, “before my hotheaded husband blows his top for real.”