“DiNunzio!” Bennie began, her hands on her strong hips. “How could you possibly, ever, ever, get yourself in this much trouble? What were you thinking? Were you thinking?”
“I was thinking. I had to follow up on Amadeo, and when I found out that -”
“Don’t backtalk me! You lied to me! Running around Montana, breaking into murder scenes, stealing evidence, losing evidence! How’d you act so nuts?”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” Mary reverted instantly to her old forte. It was a serviceable forte, applying to so many different situations, and she should never have abandoned it. Also, not everyone was good at apologizing, and Mary had heard of people who couldn’t part with a single I’m sorry, even when they were totally in the wrong.
“You almost got yourself killed! Do you realize that? Instead of dumping you in your car last night, they could have dumped you in a shallow grave! You could be dead today!”
“You could be dead!” Judy yelled backup. Doo-wap, do-wa.
“I know, and I’m sorry,” Mary said, meaning it. She did feel bad. She could be dead, and she had lied to Bennie, which was even worse. The phone on Judy’s desk started ringing but everybody ignored it, and Bennie began to pace the office like a Bengal tiger. In a bread box.
“I have no idea what to do about this! I’m too furious with you to even think straight! I came down this weekend, thought I’d give you a little support at the funeral, and this is what’s going on?” The phone’s ring turned to buzzing, which meant Marshall was trying to signal Judy to pick up. “Get that call, Carrier!” Bennie yelled, not even breaking stride, then she focused again on Mary. “DiNunzio, this time you’ve gone too far! This is over, you get it? Over! No more Brandolini! No more Saracone! It’s done! You hear me? DONE!”
“Yes, Bennie,” Mary said, and Judy turned her head to listen to her phone, clamping a free hand over her other ear.
“Starting right now, DiNunzio, you will get back to work, unless I decide to fire you! You will write briefs, bill time, and go on blind dates! Above all, you will start acting like yourself again!” Bennie stopped pacing long enough to glare down at Mary, her skin color shading to Harvard beet. But Mary tried not to think about beets right now. Or Fort Missoula. Or knots.
“Excuse me, Bennie?” Judy said, turning with the phone in her hand. “The phone -”
“Tell whoever it is I’ll call back!”
“No.” Judy looked at Mary. “It’s for you, Mare. Marshall transferred the call to my line.”
“Who is it?” Mary and Bennie asked in unison.
“Detective Gomez from Homicide.”
My God. Mary jumped to her pumps, but Bennie reached for the phone first.
“Gimme that!” she shouted, then cleared her throat before she spoke into the receiver. “Detective Gomez, this is Bennie Rosato speaking. We haven’t met, but I expect we will soon.”
Mary went weak in the knees. What was Bennie going to do? Had Gomez talked to Saracone? Was he on his way to Birchrunville right now?
“Detective,” Bennie continued, “I want you to understand that I’m representing Mary DiNunzio in the event that she’s charged with burglary or any other crimes. I’ve talked with her, and our position is that she acted appropriately in every respect and that any such charges would be frivolous!”
Mary couldn’t believe her ears. Two minutes ago, Bennie had been screaming at her. Now, she was screaming for her.
“Before you file, Detective Gomez, I want you and the department to understand that I’ll fight any such charges with every resource my firm can muster. Charges like that could destroy the career of one of the finest young attorneys in this city!”
Huh? Me? Mary swallowed hard at the praise. It felt good and bad at the same time.
“I won’t permit you or the D.A.’s office to ruin this lawyer’s good name. You’ll have to get through me to get to her, do I make myself clear? My next call is to the sergeant, and I’m sure that he and I can come to terms before this goes any further. Thank you so much.” Bennie seemed to catch her breath, and the redness ebbed from her face. “I’ll permit you to talk with Ms. DiNunzio, provided that I’m a party to the conversation. May I put you on speakerphone? Thank you.” Bennie pressed hold and turned quickly to Mary. “Okay if I’m on with you? You’re represented now, by me.”
“Yes, thanks,” Mary answered, overwhelmed, and Bennie winked, then hit another button on the phone. The red light went on and they were on speaker.
“Detective Gomez,” Bennie said. “My associates, Judy Carrier and Mary DiNunzio, are here. What is it you want to discuss?”
“Mary, can you hear me?” It was the detective’s voice, and it didn’t sound good.
“Yes, Detective Gomez. I’m listening.”
“I see you got yourself a good lawyer.”
“Damn right. Did you call Saracone?”
“I have some bad news,” Gomez began.
Twenty-Eight
Mary spent the afternoon in her office behind a closed door, feeling sorry for herself. She had decided long ago that everybody was entitled to feel sorry for themselves, and its bad reputation was completely undeserved. She therefore ignored the phone when it rang, didn’t bother to recall clients she couldn’t reach the first time, and didn’t do productive work on any of her cases, least of all Amadeo’s. She’d tried online, only briefly, to find out some background information about Justin Saracone, Melania, or Chico Escalade, but she gave up when she got nowhere.
She let her coffee get cold and sat slumped in her chair, propping her face up by a fist to her one good cheek. Sunlight poured through her window, but she wouldn’t let it cheer her up. On the contrary, she made a point of noticing that it reflected harshly on the internee files scattered across her desk, none of which mattered anymore. All her work had been for nothing, almost a year’s worth. She had figured out that Amadeo had been murdered by Giovanni Saracone, only to have the killer himself pass away this morning.
Mary felt like crying but her eyes remained dry. Her heart was hollow, her chest oddly empty. She hadn’t gotten to Saracone in time. If only she’d gone to Montana when she’d first gotten the case. If only she weren’t such a chicken. Montana wasn’t scary, it was just another state. The people there weren’t aliens, they were normal. Airplanes weren’t all that amazing, they were just three billion tons of sheet metal, bolts, outdated copies of Forbes, and little tiny soaps which managed not only to stay aloft but also to fly through thin air.
Okay, maybe airplanes were amazing.
Mary sighed. At some level, even she had to admit it was time to lay Amadeo to rest. She had to let him go. Stop thinking of him as some sort of a ghost, George Clooney, or even Mike. She had discovered the unspeakable, but both Amadeo and Saracone had passed from this earth; murdered and murderer, good and evil. They would reconcile with their God; one embraced and the other reviled. She would have to be content with that justice.
And, after what Gomez had told them, there was no chance now of proving that Frank’s murder was connected to Saracone. Gomez liked his lead in Frank’s murder, and the police were about to arrest a man who had committed another office burglary farther down Broad Street, also in which a small safe had been wheeled away. Gomez hadn’t gone out to Saracone’s house, and the Cavuto case was officially cleared. Saracone was dead. Amadeo was gone.
It was over, all of it.
It was history.
The parish church brimmed with neighbors, nuns, priests from the Archdiocese, beat cops, bowling buddies, and the latest softball team Frank had sponsored, girls and boys squirming next to an array of small businessmen. Mary flashed on the bills she’d seen in the file drawers: dry cleaners, carpet cleaners, window blind cleaners; car repairs, shoe repairs, roof repairs; plumbers, electricians, carpenters. All of them mourned the passing of Frank Cavuto. And she knew that miles outside the city, far from the auto body shops and the check cashing agencies, in an elegant country mansion in a lovely town called Birchrunville, people were gathering to mourn the passing of Giovanni Saracone – his very young wife, his son, that felon in the Escalade, and undoubtedly an array of businessmen in custom suits and silk ties, who trafficked in stocks, bonds, and mysterious investments.