Lewis Goldbaum, the District Attorney for New York City, applied a coating of lip balm as the jury filed silently back into the courtroom and took their seats. Judge Fortunato queried the foreman,
“Have you reached a verdict?”
He offered a document, “Yes your honor.”
Goldbaum resisted the urge to straighten his new tie. He forced his shoulders back and held his breath as the bailiff handed off the decision to the judge.
The judge glanced at the document, looked up and read it out loud,
“On the count of conspiring to commit fraud, guilty. Two counts of bribery, guilty. Obstruction of justice, guilty…”
Goldbaum let out a sigh of relief before being glad handed by his Assistant D.A.’s.
“Nice going Lew!”
“You nailed the dirty SOB!”
“Thanks, this is a win for the good citizens of New York.” Goldbaum kept a serious face on as he spit out the first of many practiced sound bites and looked forward to getting in front of cameras on the courthouse steps.
The DA was on a roll, he’d handpicked a couple of high profile cases to try himself, knowing they would elevate his stature in the City. Each case carried the risk of tarnishing his reputation but Goldbaum choose them carefully, calibrating the downside and throwing the considerable resources of his office behind them. The current mayor was in his second term and speculation on who the next mayor would be was building. Putting Brock, who had bilked the city out of two hundred million dollars, behind bars would cement him into the top tier of likely candidates.
The state and city needed the win, their budgetary woes were national news and the city itself was losing its prominence. New York had lost a lot of people and business to the sun-belt over the last decade and the toll wreaked havoc on its finances. The Brock verdict would hopefully begin the turn of the tide.
As Goldbaum ate his breakfast he smiled. He couldn’t have crafted a better headline that the one The Daily News used, Golden Boy Bags Bloodsucker Brock, for its morning paper. He went to get dressed for the stream of interviews he’d do, already thinking past the mayor’s office to the governorship.
Tommy bounded through Cue Shot’s front door. It was eerily quiet, even though it was two deep at the bar.
“Hey what’s this, a funeral?”
Heads turned with looks of disapproval as Sammy the snake urgently waved me over.
“Where’s the casket bro?”
“God forbid!” He hung his head, “You don’t know huh?”
“What? What the fucks going on?”
‘It’s Louie; he’s sick, really fucking sick.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Cancer man, in the fucking throat.”
I sucked deeply on my cigarette, stared at it and ground it out, “He gonna be alright?”
“We hope so, got the best fucking doctors in the city. Dr. Mikey hooked him up…”
I blocked out the rest and threw up a hand as a goodbye.
“Tommy! Louie will be so happy to see you.” Her eyes were red and she didn’t have a stitch of make-up on.
“Hey Aunt Jo, don’t worry he’ll be alright. He’s tough as they come.”
“I know, I know but I donno I’m just scared I guess. The history’s not good, it’s like we’re cursed.”
“Ya gotta be strong man. It’s the only way. Where is he?”
She hiked a thumb, “The den.”
The den was as dark as the mood in the house. Louie was in a recliner, covered by a blanket staring at a muted TV. There was a mug of something surrounded by balls of tissues. Startled, he bolted upright, clearing his throat,
“Tommy, good to see you, how’s your Mother and Father?”
“They’re okay.”
“You sure, I’m hearing things?”
“Yeah, sure you know Billy.”
He wagged his head, “He’s a piece of work.”
I sat down “How you doing unc?”
“The doc says its bad but I can beat it. I donno…”
“Shit yea, you’ll beat it! You’re like steel!”
“Yeah, we’ll see, the family’s got a bad record with this shit.”
“The odds are with you then. It all evens out, you know, you’re on a losing streak then you get hot…”
He shifted in his chair and spit into a tissue, “I hope you’re right. But since you brought it up, there’s something that’s been bothering me.”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“Listen, kid, you know I love you but you gotta put an end to this fucking gambling. You just can’t be trusted if you’re always in the hole. It don’t look good, you understand?”
“It’s not that bad, I…”
He swept his finger under his throat, “Stop the bullshit.” He leaned toward me, “I’m gonna tell the Moose to wipe the slate clean, you hear? But just this one time. That’s it, the end, finite, no more bets for you. The guys won’t take your bets.”
I owed over eight thousand and was grateful but felt a stab at being cut off, “Oh okay, thanks.”
“Don’t breathe a word of this to nobody, especially to your father. You know I tried with him but he never fucking learns.” He shook his head as his voice trailed off and I changed the subject.
Just a week later I took Tess, who’d cooked up a storm of soft foods, to see Louie. Smelling the escarole and beans as we climbed the stairs opened my appetite and I hoped my aunt would dish some out. But when we saw him laid out on a couch, I lost my appetite. It could’ve been my mind playing tricks but he looked like hell; a lot worse in only a week.
Louie propped himself up and when my aunt adjusted the pillows I shot a glance at Tess who was tearing up. I quickly shook my head at her to stop the nonsense and pulled up a chair,
“Hey Unc, my mom woofed up some nice dishes for you. You hungry?”
“I made him some soup when we came back from the doctors.”
“What the Doc say?”
“Tuesday we got an appointment to get some steroid injections, to help with his strength and stuff and then Thursday he’s getting this new chemo and they think it’s gonna work…”
I looked at my uncle who chin in chest, had fallen asleep as my aunt droned on. I got up to go to the bathroom when the doorbell rang.
“Tommy, can you get it? Should be Yuri.”
Sure enough the Russian had come to visit. We bull shitted a bit but he only stayed a few minutes before handing off an envelope of cash, in full view, to my Aunt on the way out.
Mayor Price was appreciative for the respite in bad news and invited the DA to his weekly press conference. He hoped having Goldbaum there would shift the attention away from New York’s budgetary woes.
It didn’t work as the mayor was taking a beating with his plan to shut down a dozen fire houses and cut the police force.
“My administration has studied the impact of any closures. We’re confident that if, and I repeat, if we have to combine any districts the impact will be minimal. Please rest assured that we are working non-stop to find ways to maintain services at their current levels. I have asked every department to scrutinize their budgets for savings and efficiencies. Look at the wonderfully important work our District Attorney’s office has been doing.” Anxious to get out of the spotlight he said, “Lewis come up to the podium, I’m sure there are a few questions for you.”
Goldbaum pulled his smile in a bit as he strode to the podium fingering the tube of Chap Stick in his pocket.
“Thank you Mr. Mayor. I would like to confirm what his honor stated; the orders are clear about reducing waste across all departments of government. Trust me; they are putting the heat on all of us to deliver!” Goldbaum gestured as if wiping his brow.
The room erupted in laughter, when it petered out a reporter from WPIX asked,
“Mr. Goldbaum, do you really think it’s possible to balance the books without raising taxes or reducing services?”
“If we can root out fraud and corruption we can maintain the current level of services. That means no cuts, period.” He sneaked a peek at Gordon Black, his chief of staff, who gave a thumbs up.
“Are you implying that fraud and corruption are rampant?”
“No, but we do have efforts underway to identify areas of concern.”
“Can you share anything with us?”
Goldbaum had stretched the truth and ran for cover, “Gentlemen, you know I’m unable to comment on ongoing investigations.”
The news over the following weeks was filled with speculation about another big case coming out of the D.A.’s office. It was the fairy tale ending everyone hoped for; some unknown hole would be magically plugged, sparing New York citizens from tax hikes or cuts in service. The media promptly dispatched legions of reporters to scour the city for leads on what they hoped would be the story of the year.