Killer Smile (33 page)

Inventor, Giovanni Saracone. By Joseph Giorno, Attorney.

She leaned forward, clicked back to home, and searched under Patent. In a few clicks, the words of the patent statute came onto the screen:

Mary read it again and again, inspired. The law had a force of its own, even a beauty. Its letter was clear, as was its intent. She was finally glad she had become a lawyer, because she knew just what to do next.

Less than an hour later, she was writing like a girl in a fever, surrounded by open law books, photocopied cases, and a stack of tentative exhibits. She had written two pages and only had fifty-six more to go. It would take all night, but she would get it done. Most lawyers would have balked at the task, but not Mary.

“You need a break, Mare,” said a cheery voice from the threshold. It was Judy, grinning in her hot pink sweatshirt, clashing cobalt sweatpants, and red clogs with black fake-ostrich dots, all topped by a Stanford backward-baseball cap. Her ensemble was Cirque du Soleil meets Best-Friend-Forever, and Mary didn’t say a thing, because Judy had dropped everything to come and help her. Also she was carrying a brown bag that smelled like take-out lo mein, chicken curry, cold sesame noodles, and spring rolls.

Mary smiled. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. “I love you, you know that?”

“About time you realized it, girl,” Judy said, with a crooked grin, and set the bag on the table. “Let’s eat.”

In time, Mary filled Judy in on all the details of her plan, the lawyers got down to work, and the night sky outside the conference room window lightened to streaky gray. The take-out containers littering the table were joined by Styrofoam coffee cups, empty Diet Coke cans, discarded cellophane from two packs of chocolate Tastykakes, a tiny plastic tub of Light ’n Fit strawberry yogurt, and an organic apple, which came pre-bruised, so Mary refused to eat it. By dawn, Judy was getting tired and looked up, red-eyed from the law books.

“You know what we need, Mare?” she asked.

“Fruit with pesticides.”

“No.”

Mary thought of the case. “A miracle?”

“No. Tunes! We need TUUUUUUNES!” Judy yelled, throwing up her arms, because she was beyond punchy. She leapt out of her swivel chair, leaving it spinning, flew out of the conference room, and before Mary could protest, returned with a white Bose CD player from her office and a stack of slippery CDs, which she set on the credenza. “Tunes have arrived!”

Mary peered over her laptop with suspicion. “Got any Sinatra?”

“No way. I have Steven Tyler and Aerosmith! Yeeeesss!” Judy giggled, slipping a black CD into the tray, hitting some buttons, and cranking up the volume. An earsplitting guitar riff blasted the conference room, ten thousand drums thundered, and Judy started dancing around, shaking her tight butt in her loose sweatpants, and clicking off her clogs so she could jump around better. Aerosmith started singing at full volume.

“This doesn’t sound like ‘Night and Day’!” Mary shouted, covering her ears, but Judy segued into dancing like an Egyptian, boogying around the room.

“It’s ‘Dude Looks Like a Lady!’ Come on, get up and shake your booty!”

Mary scoffed, then reconsidered. She needed the exercise and she couldn’t work with all that noise anyway. She pushed back the laptop, got on her feet, kicked off her pumps, and shook her butt as hard as she could in a skirt from Brooks Brothers. And the rock music wasn’t bad at all. He was no Francis Albert, but Steven Tyler rocked!

Later, Mary became aware that Judy had fallen silent and she looked across the table. Judy was buckling her lower lip, eyeing what she’d written on her screen. Under the Stanford cap, her brow knit unhappily. Mary knew it wasn’t just fatigue. “What’s the matter, Jude?” she asked, setting down a warm Diet Coke.

Judy looked up. “I’m worried.”

“About what?”

“About you, about this.” Judy slid off her baseball cap, revealing a flat ring around her shorn blonde hair. She spiked it up with her hand, and Mary knew she was stalling, because she never cared about hat head. Judy cleared her throat. “Listen, let me say right out that I think it’s great that you put all this together, and figured out what that snake and his son did.”

“Thanks.”

“You went all the way to Montana, and I’m not denigrating that. I told you how cool that was.”

“Hold the positive reinforcement. Just give.”

Judy sighed. “But I’m not sure about this new idea of yours. I’m not sure it holds up to a standard cost-benefit analysis. Can I be your sounding board?”

“Of course.”

“Let’s review.” Judy straightened up. “Cost. Bennie will hate this idea.”

“True.”

“Cost. You probably need her permission to do it and you’re not asking.”

“Right.”

“Cost. She could fire you for it.”

“And the bad news?”

Judy smiled, but it faded quickly. “Cost, and worst cost of all, it could be really dangerous. Justin Saracone has a fortune to protect, and the power and means to come at you. Even if Chico’s out of the picture, Justin has the dough to hire somebody else. He’s a killer, Mare. Look at Keisha, she’s still in a coma.”

“I know.” Mary felt her stomach tense. She had called the hospital during the dinner break, and Bill had said Keisha’s prognosis wasn’t good. The longer she stayed under, the worse it got. It made Mary feel guilty, and angry, all over again. “All the more reason to do this.”

“Maybe, but it means it’s definitely dangerous.”

“Okay, it’s a little dangerous.”

“Or a lot.”

“Okay, a lot,” Mary admitted. Even though she felt a tremor of fear, she was determined, but she didn’t tell Judy about Mrs. Nyquist. It would be Mary’s replacement secret, because now she could fly with abandon.

“So, you would agree, there are costs to this idea of yours. Great big downside?”

“Me, dead. That can’t be good.”

Judy couldn’t manage a smile, which showed what a good friend she was. “Now we come to the benefits. I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, Mare, but I think you’re gonna lose.”

Ouch
. “You do?”

“Yes. Honestly, it’s a high standard of proof at this stage of the game, and you don’t have much. I’ll buy that you have irreparable harm. The sale of rights to Reinhardt and the change in trademark would render Brandolini’s patent worthless, over time. But you can’t show you’ll win on the merits.”

“Yes, I can.”

“Try it on me, try it right here.” Judy leaned back in the chair and put her Stanford cap back on. “I’ll be the judge. Judge Judy, get it?”

“Calm yourself.”

“And suck up a lot. We judges like that.”

“Please.” Mary stood up and gathered her exhibits. “I’ll keep it short. Basically, I’m asking the court for a temporary restraining order. I want the court to restrain, or stop, Justin Saracone and Saracone Enterprises from selling the rights to the patent and trademark to Reinhardt and ultimately, from getting any more royalties from licenses of the hatch patent or its improvements, because they obtained the original patent by fraud.”

Judy nodded. “So to get a TRO, or a temporary restraining order, you have to show that when this case goes to trial, you have a reasonable chance of success on the merits. In other words, you have to prove that Giovanni Saracone stole the invention.”

Mary tilted her head. “You talkin’ down to me, Your Honor?”

“I’m the judge. It’s my job.”

“Okay. First, I prove that Amadeo Brandolini registered as an enemy alien. Exhibit A.” Mary set down a stamped copy of his alien registration card. “Second, I prove that he was arrested and sent to Fort Missoula. I can’t prove it through me, because I’m not a fact witness, but you can. You saw the FBI memo, too.” Mary set out an affidavit she’d drafted about the FBI memo from the National Archives as Exhibit B. “Third, I prove that Saracone was sent to the same camp, and that they knew each other in the camp.” Mary set out Exhibits C and D, which were copies of the photos she’d gotten from Fort Missoula’s archives. “I’ll authenticate them by affidavit of the museum director. Are you dazzled yet?”

Judy smiled. “Keep going, counsel.”

“Fourth, I prove that Amadeo died by asphyxiation in the camp, on July 17, 1942.” Mary set down the death certificate as Exhibit E. “Fifth, I prove that Giovanni Saracone was the only other person with him when he was asphyxiated.” Mary set down a piece of paper for Exhibit F. “Pretend this is an affidavit from Mr. Milton, which will be faxed to me tomorrow morning.”

“Better be. Blank paper carries no weight with me.”

“Remember, for these purposes, I don’t have to prove that Saracone murdered Amadeo, which he did. It’s not a murder trial, it’s a civil case of fraud.
Capisce?
”

“Then why are we in federal court? Fraud is a state court cause of action, counsel.”

“Under the Patent Act, the provision is ‘correction of a named inventor.’ And we’re squarely in dicta in
Stark v. Advanced Magnetics
. Also there’s ancillary jurisdiction because of the amount in controversy. You want me to get technical, Judge?”

“I’m already bored. Proceed, counsel. You got bigger problems than jurisdiction.”

“Now. Sixth, I prove that Giovanni Saracone, who was with Amadeo in the camp, filed for a patent application roughly ten days after Amadeo was killed.” Mary set down a copy of the patent application for the hatch as Exhibit G. “Seventh, I prove that Amadeo made a number of drawings of a marine hatch, which were given to me by his previous lawyer, Frank Cavuto.” Mary set down another blank piece of paper as Exhibit H. “This will be another affidavit from you, detailing what the drawings look like and that they were stolen from our offices during a break-in.”

Judy cocked an eyebrow. “You gonna question me on the witness stand, counsel?”

“Yes, and you’d better behave. I can’t sign it because lawyers make bad witnesses and they get disbarred besides.” Mary cleared her throat. “Eight, I refer to your affidavit and prove that Amadeo Brandolini’s drawings were identical to those submitted with the patent filed by Giovanni Saracone.” Mary set down a copy of the patent application, as Exhibit I. “Finally, I prove, by a copy of the police report, which we’ll get in the morning, that my office was broken into, which is why I can’t produce those drawings in court.” Mary sat down a piece of paper as Exhibit J. “Finally, I prove that Saracone had a lunch truck and was not a fisherman. Supported by a one-paragraph affidavit to that effect, faxed to me by my new best friend. Mr. Jackmann. That’s all he will say on the subject, and I’m only getting that much because Justin has made more enemies than Satan. The acorn doesn’t fall far.” She looked across the messy table expectantly. “Well?”

Judy had on one of those let-her-down-easy faces. “You still have no proof that Saracone stole the invention from Brandolini, and that is the critical fact. I mean, you can assert all you want, but without the drawings, you don’t even have a prayer.”

No.
“The drawings weren’t proof anyway. Amadeo hadn’t signed or dated them, and I couldn’t authenticate them even if he had. I have no other sample of his writing, except the
X
on his alien registration card. But I
can
prove the fact that they were stolen, and that fits perfectly.”

“That’s not enough, Mare,” Judy said softly.

“It has to be. I have to make this work. I know I’m right, Jude. I know I can win.”

“You can’t.”

Mary flinched. “I can. At least I have to try.”

“No, you don’t. Not with the stakes this high. You’re too wrapped up in this case, you have been from the beginning. Be logical.” Judy spread her palms. “Why take such a big risk, if you’re only gonna lose?”

“Do you fight only the fights you’re gonna win, Jude?” Mary shot back, then she heard herself, and to her surprise, she sounded like she was actually making sense. It came as a revelation, suddenly lifting her spirits. “I mean, if you know you’re gonna win, it’s not really a fight.”

Judy sat back and broke into a slowly growing smile. “You know, you just said something that was either incredibly dumb or incredibly smart.”

Mary laughed and slipped on her cowboy hat. “We’ll see, lil’ pretty. We’ll see.”

At noon, Mary stuck her head out of the conference room door and looked right and left. No one in the hall. No one in the waiting room. Everyone was at lunch. Most important of all, the reception desk was empty and Marshall was nowhere in sight. She was the one who’d tell Bennie on them and she must have gone to lunch, too. The coast was clear.

“
Andiamo,
” Mary said, gesturing. According to plan, she had one stack of finished papers under her arm, and Judy had the other, and they hustled through the empty reception area to the elevator and hit the Down button.

“We did it!” Judy cheered, but it caught in her throat when the elevator doors opened and Marshall was standing inside.

Busted!
Mary stayed calm. Judy stayed hyper.

“Hello, ladies,” Marshall said, her eyes narrowing to secretarial slits. She stepped out of the elevator cab and intentionally blocked the doors, which slid closed behind her. She looked unusually stern this morning, in a severe braid and a black shirtdress with a white collar that reminded Mary of every nun she’d ever had. Marshall folded her arms. “Where were you going?”

“Out,” Mary answered, and Judy added:

“Fine, thanks.”

Marshall cocked her head. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing,” Mary answered, and Judy added:

“Not today, thanks.”

Marshall looked from one to the other. “Why are you wearing stupid hats?”

The cowboy hat!
Mary had forgotten she had it on. Judy wore her Stanford cap. “For attitude?” she answered, and Judy added:

“I always wear stupid hats.”

Marshall put her hands on her hips. “This can’t be good. Both of you locked in the conference room all morning, with chocolate and Joe Perry. This can’t be good. I’m responsible for you guys when Bennie’s not here, you know, and she’s going to be calling in again. You going to tell me what’s going on, or do I have to beat it out of you?”