Gone, No Forwarding

Sixteen

It was not a buoyant lunch, even though the Rathskeller’s knockwurst and sauerkraut and steins of rich heavy dark beer were up to the usual standard. One trouble was Tranquillini: he was so sore he could hardly eat. “Oh, I imagine that zinger Delaney tried about our payment to Pivarski originated with Greenly up at the Licensing Bureau,” he said. “But I’m still going to bum his butt for it.”

“Did he really think he could make it stick?” asked Giselle.

“I doubt it. Even if DKA admitted outright that they owed Pivarski the money, that would not be an admission of any impropriety. I imagine he hoped to influence the Hearing Officer’s mind subconsciously against us.”

“That explains Delaney,” said Kearny. “But why would Greenly suggest it in the first place?”

“Padilla Drayage?” O’Bannon, slaking his usual massive thirst, was on his third stein of beer to everyone else’s first.

“The thought has to cross your mind,” said Tranquillini.

“No,” said Kearny around a mouthful of potato pancake. “The big boys from the East who are behind Padilla Drayage owe me, personally, a favor. A big one.”

“Such as?”

He looked at the others and sighed. It was time. “Remember the Chandra case a couple of years back?”

Tranquillini spooned dark mustard onto his plate. “I wasn’t your attorney then, but sure, I recall it.”

“A guy named Phil Fazzino, the local Mafia honcho, had killed his own superior to take his place, and then killed an old dance teacher named Chandra because she overheard the hit being planned.”

“Frank Padilla was who got it.” Heslip added almost dreamily, “Remember that scam we ran on his widow, Giselle?”

“Black is diz-guz-ting,” she said.

“But there wasn’t any proof Fazzino had hit Chandra,” said Kearny. “Nothing a cop could use to convince a D.A. or a D.A. could use to convict in front of a jury.”

“So Fazzino went free,” said Giselle in a bitter voice. “Only he didn’t.” The tone of Kearny’s voice told them what he meant. “Yeah. I pulled the plug on Fazzino and his wife Wendy to the mob. Told their local attorney, Wayne Hawkley, all about it. They didn’t need proof. Whether they ever caught up with Fazzino...”

“They owe you,” Tranquillini agreed crisply. “No wonder you accepted that Hawkley wasn’t behind the State’s move.”

“Yet it’s his nephew — a member of his law firm — who’s nailing our tails to the wall of that hearing room.”

Tranquillini gave his sudden cocky laugh. “All the odds haven’t been posted on that race yet.”

“You mean we aren’t doing as bad as I think we’re doing?” asked Giselle. “This afternoon they’ll bring up that letter, and—”

“And we can’t stop them.” lamented O’Bannon from behind his fifth tankard of strong waters.

“We don’t plan to stop them,” said Tranquillini. He looked at his watch and got to his feet. “We let them get it in as hearsay.”

They started up the stairs toward the street level.

“I guess I’m dumb,” said Heslip, “but even as hearsay, isn’t that going to hurt us?”

“Sure. But we can’t keep it out. And we have a hearsay of our own that they won’t be able to keep out once theirs is in.”

“Simson’s deposition?”

As Tranquillini nodded, the headwaiter called after them, “Phone call for you. Mr. Kearny. A Mr. Ballard.”

“Now you’re talking!” exclaimed Tranquillini. “Get me an eyeball from our side of the fence to back up Simson’s deposition, and if they try what I think they will with that letter, we’ll knock them right out of the park.”

The court reporter’s fingers moved over the keys of his machine like hooked pale ghosts as the Hearing Officer said, “Mr. Franks was on the stand. He already had been sworn.” As Franks moved forward, Kearny bent over Tranquillini’s head at the counsel’s table. “Ballard’s been in a ditch in the boondocks for the past twenty-four hours,” Kearny whispered, “but he found out Rose Kelly wasn’t on the switchboard that day. Verna Rounds probably was.”

Tranquillini tapped his lined yellow legal pad with his felt-tip pen for a few seconds, scowling. “Dammit. Okay. Get Bart Heslip on a plane to New Orleans.”

“He’s already on his way over to Oakland to talk with the girl’s mother. Then he’ll fly out to New Orleans direct.”

“If counsel please—”

“Sorry, Your Honor,” said Tranquillini. “Ready for the Respondent.”

Delaney started in again. “You were about to testify concerning the events of November fifth, last year.”

“Yes, sir. I had spoken with Miss Onoda previously to arrange for Mr. Pivarski to go to the Kearny office between five-thirty and six o’clock on that day. I prepared a letter for him to take, along with the two hundred dollars, to Daniel Kearny Associates. He was to present it to them for signature at the same time he tendered the money to be held in trust until—”

“Objection.”

“Sustained.”

“Sorry, Your Honor. Mr. Franks, tell us about the letter.”

“I told my client to surrender the two hundred dollars only if Miss Onoda would sign the original of the letter, which he then was to return to me. Here is a copy of that letter.”

With a dramatic flourish, he presented Delaney with a piece of paper from the thin attaché case he had been holding on his lap. Delaney turned to the Hearing Officer. “At this time, we would like to present in evidence—”

“Objection,” said Tranquillini. “My client tells me he has no information with respect to this letter, that he never saw it and no one in his office has ever called it to his attention. As you know, Miss Onoda is deceased. My client has no way of knowing if any signature on that letter is Miss Onoda’s or not. I will object to its introduction unless Mr. Pivarski is here to testify that he delivered it, and to whom.”

The Hearing Officer stared at Tranquillini for a long moment, as if the feisty little attorney were half a worm in his half-eaten apple. Then, with a sigh, he leaned toward the witness stand. “Mr. Franks, do you have any information as to whether this letter actually was given to anybody at Kearny Associates?”

“Yes, I do.”

“On what is your information based?”

“On what was reported to me by Mr. Pivarski subsequent to his visit to Kearny Associates.”

The Hearing Officer sat back and drummed his fingers on the desk. He looked over at Delaney. “Is Mr. Pivarski here present?”

“He is not, Your Honor,” said Delaney in an aggrieved tone, “nor will he be. He is not a party to this action, which is a purely disciplinary charge brought by the State against the Respondent. We submit this letter as our Exhibit next in order.”

“My objection is on record,” said Tranquillini.

“The objection is sustained at this point,” said the Hearing Officer. “I’ll mark the document as Exhibit B for Identification only.”

Delaney began, “But Your Honor—”

“If it is later established by direct testimony that this letter was indeed delivered to the Respondent’s office, then it will be accepted in evidence at that time. All we have in the record so far is hearsay, and I cannot base findings on hearsay.”

There was a strangled silence while Delaney tried to figure out a new way to get the letter in as evidence rather than as a mere Identification Exhibit. He finally stepped forward again.

“Mr. Franks, you have testified that before Pivarski left your office, you discussed with him the conditions under which he was to pay over this two hundred dollars.” He cast a look at Tranquillini. “That fact is not in dispute, I take it. Now, then, what exactly was your advice to your client along these lines?”

“That the money would be paid to Miss Onoda to be held by Kearny Associates until the determination of the demurrer seven days later, on the twelfth. In the meantime, Kearny would not further attach wages and cause Mr. Pivarski to lose his job.”

Tranquillini stirred. “We’re right back where we started from, Your Honor. This is not direct evidence of what actually happened, yet this is the crux of the case against my client.”

“The Hearing Officer notes, for the record, that any conversation this witness had with Mr. Pivarski when no representative of the Respondent was present is clearly hearsay.”

Delaney was unable to control himself when he heard this door too being slammed in his face. “Well, it’s not hearsay, Mr. Hearing Officer! It may not be direct evidence on the issues, but it’s certainly not hearsay. The witness is reciting his own conversation.”

“With a third party,” said Tranquillini.

“That’s not hearsay.”

“In my book it is,” said the Hearing Officer. “Proceed.”

“The witness is reciting what he himself said,” Delaney persisted almost desperately.

“I have made my ruling, counsel. It will be received as hearsay in the record.”

The remainder of Franks’ direct testimony was put on the record merely for form; Delaney’s heart was not in it. The court hearing Franks’ demurrer on November 12 had entered judgment in Pivarski’s favor. Franks had then filed suit against DKA for $226.30 — the $200 paid Kathy Onoda, plus the $26.30 collected by the sheriff under Kearny’s original attachment. On February 18 the court had entered judgment in favor of Pivarski for the amount asked, plus interest and costs.

“And since February eighteenth, despite numerous demands made upon Respondent by you, the money has not been paid back as ordered by the court. Is that correct?”

“Until this morning’s mail,” said Franks.

“That is all, counselor. You may step down.”

But Tranquillini was on his feet as Franks started to rise. “I have a few questions on voir dire.”

Franks slowly sank back into the witness chair. Tranquillini leaned an elbow on the witness stand and from less than two feet away stared at the other attorney. Franks began to fidget and look away and clear his throat and. finally, took a handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped his face. Tranquillini stepped back abruptly when, from the corner of his eye, he saw Delaney starting to his feet to make an objection.

“You said on direct testimony, Mr. Franks, that you instructed Mr. Pivarski to get Miss Onoda’s signature on the letter. Did he also get a receipt?”

Franks cleared his throat. “I have no knowledge of such.”

Tranquillini laid a copy of Kathy Onoda’s receipt to Pivarski on the Hearing Officer’s desk. “Respondent wishes at this time to introduce his Exhibit A, a copy of the DKA receipt to Mr. Pivarski on the day in question.”

“Objection!” burst out Delaney. “This—”

“The Hearing Officer will note that this receipt plainly states ‘Two hundred dollars received on account from K. Pivarski, November fifth, 5:48 P.M.’ Nothing about money held in trust or—”

“This is purely hearsay evidence!” cried Delaney with an apoplectic face. “Mr. Franks has no way of knowing—”

“Pivarski does,” said Tranquillini.

“The State has no intention of producing Mr. Pivarski.”

Tranquillini paused. For the first time he realized that Delaney’s reluctance to produce Kasimir Pivarski went beyond a desire to avoid putting a witness on the stand who would be thoroughly mauled by opposing counsel. He needed time to think about that reluctance. This was not the time to push it. He shrugged eloquently.

“Respondent amends the submission to Respondent Information Exhibit A, with the request that this exhibit be put in evidence if direct testimony so indicates at a later time.”

“Noted.”

In turning back toward Franks, as if it were an afterthought, Tranquillini picked up two Xerox copies of Simson’s affidavit, and dropped one on Delaney’s table and slid the other across the bench to the Hearing Officer. “Respondent also wishes at this time to present Respondent’s Exhibit B, a holographic, signed, and witnessed deposition by a witness, Jeffrey L. Simson, as to events on the day in question.”

“How did you find...” Then Delaney, scanning the affidavit, yelled, “Objection, Your Honor! This is not only a purely hearsay document, it is presented out of order—”

“We are not a formal court here,” said Tranquillini blandly. His spur of the moment idea was working, by God. “As you pointed out this morning, this is a disciplinary action, not a trial.”

The Hearing Officer looked up from the document. “That’s all very well, counselor, but this is being presented out of order. Why wasn’t it among the Respondent’s documents presented to and filed with the Bureau of Private Investigators and Adjusters last week, preliminary to this hearing?”

“If you will note the date, Your Honor, this document was not obtained until this past weekend.”

Tranquillini glanced over at Delaney, expecting an objection, but there was none. Instead, he looked almost pleased. Which wasn’t right or reassuring. Something more to worry about after the session was finished.

“This is obviously a hearsay document, not connected up at this time,” said the Hearing Officer. “However, since I already have admitted two other hearsay documents and a good deal of hearsay evidence, I will accept this as Respondent Information Exhibit B. Please proceed.”

Tranquillini had, for the first time, been examining his copy of the letter Pivarski was supposed to have given to Kathy Onoda.

He read it again, stared at it, unable to believe what was there. Or rather, what wasn’t there. He turned to the waiting Franks.

“Counselor, would you tell this hearing whether there is a space at the bottom of this letter where Miss Onoda was to sign on behalf of Daniel Kearny Associates?”

“Well, yes, but...”

“I see no such signature there, yet this purports to be a true copy of the original letter, does it not?”

Delaney was on his feet, his face scornful. “Objection, Your Honor. Obviously, this is merely a Xerox copy of Mr. Franks’s office carbon of the letter. If counsel insists on Mr. Franks producing the original with Miss Onoda’s signature, it will delay proceedings considerably and...”

Tranquillini went after Franks before the Hearing Officer could rule on the objection. “The original letter with Miss Onoda’s signature, offered as an exhibit, would have been direct rather than hearsay evidence, would it not, Mr. Franks?”

“Objection,” said Delaney again, quickly, realizing his witness was in trouble. “Calling for a conclusion from the witness.”

“Witness has been qualified as an attorney-at-law.”

“Even so,” said the Hearing Officer, “I must sustain.”

“As you wish, Your Honor.” To Franks, Tranquillini said, “Why didn’t you give the original letter with Miss Onoda’s signature on it to the State for submission into evidence?”

Delaney started up to object, then, frowning, sank back again. Franks was silent for so long the Hearing Officer said, “The witness may answer.”

“Uh... I don’t have the original.”

“Then Mr. Pivarski still has it.”

“I... don’t know.”

Now? Tranquillini asked himself; then rejected it. No. Not yet. Instead, he veered sharply in his attack. “You have testified that opposing counsel was not present at the hearing of your demurrer on November twelfth of last year — a hearing at which judgment was rendered in favor of your client.”

“That is correct.”

“Prior to that hearing, you of course served Respondent with the necessary notice?”

“My office served Respondent’s attorney. I didn’t personally wait around in a doorway to—”

“Quite,” said Tranquillini drily. He turned. “Your Honor, at this time I wish to be sworn so I can testify under oath that no such notice was ever received by my office.”

Franks said, very quickly, “We didn’t serve you, counselor. We served a Mr. James.”

“I have been attorney-of-record for Respondent Corporation for the past twenty-two months. Mr. James has not represented Kearny Associates for nearly five years.”

There was a moment of uneasy silence. No one doubted that Franks had known he was serving an attorney who would not pass on the service to Kearny or to Tranquillini, and that thus Franks would win his case by default. As he had. And now was the time to push again. Tranquillini turned to the Hearing Officer. “I once again, at this time, request on behalf of the Respondent that Mr. Pivarski be brought into this court, under subpoena if necessary, to testify as to the events of that day in November.”

The Hearing Officer nodded. “Noted,” he said. “I feel this hearing should be adjourned until Wednesday morning at ten o’clock, at which time the Hearing Officer will have had a chance to study this question of Mr. Pivarski’s possible appearance. Frankly, at the moment all I have before me is hearsay evidence.”

Tranquillini, starting to stuff papers into his attaché case, did not bother to lower his voice as he said to Delaney at the next table. “Your witness is lying his ass off, Johnny-me-bhoy. The question remains — why?”