But tonight, not even spaghetti would do the trick. All through dinner, Mary thought about Trish.
Mary got home to her apartment, ignored the day’s mail, and went to her bedroom, where she undressed quickly, changing into gray sweats and her old Donovan McNabb jersey. She stopped by the bathroom, unpeeled contacts from her corneas, and washed off her eye makeup, leaving two attractive skidmarks in the white towel, then finger-combed her hair into its Pebbles ponytail and slipped on her glasses.
Mike.
Grief struck without warning, an emotional mugging, and Mary stood still at the sink, steadying herself, resting her fingertips on the chilly rim. Then she fled the room, padding barefoot to her home office, and headed for her computer. She moved the mouse, and her home page, www.phillynews.com, burst onto the screen. The headline read, SOCIETY HILL BABY ABDUCTED. She scanned the story, reporting that a year-old baby girl, Sabine Donchess, had been kidnapped from the home of a wealthy family. An Amber Alert had been issued, and the police were hunting for suspects. Mary felt relieved. No news about Trish.
He’s connected. He deals drugs, heroin and coke.
Mary sat back in her chair, her memory unspooling. Even though she’d only known him in high school, he’d been her first real love. He’d come to her house for a full year of Wednesdays, and the two of them sat at the kitchen table while she tutored him in Latin, so close she could have kissed him. He was a jock in a black Neumann sweatshirt, sweaty from a shower after practice, smelling of hard soap and Doublemint gum. Always antsy in the chair, his big legs jiggled under the table. She kept her crush to herself, so far gone that she used to look forward to going to bed at night, just so she could think about him.
She breathed a sigh, knowing she had dodged a bullet with him. He had grown into a nightmare. When had that happened? How, when she could still remember the sound of his laugh, most often directed at himself? He would say, I’m so dumb. He’d run his hand through his hair as he puzzled over the translation. He’d grip his pencil like a little boy, throttling it between thick fingers. His handwriting was terrible, and to Mary, even that was proof that he was such a guy.
Her apartment was so quiet, and the silence left Mary alone with her regrets. So many things she couldn’t undo. So many problems she couldn’t solve. So much she knew now that she hadn’t known before. She stared at the computer screen without seeing anything. She had tons of work to do, plus she had to answer the e-mail she hadn’t checked for hours, and now poor Dhiren. She could be up all night and never make a dent in her caseload.
And when she closed her eyes, in her own darkness, Mary couldn’t help but sense that something terrible was happening, somewhere.
CHAPTER SIX
Mary charged off the elevator before the office had even opened.
She held a half-full cup of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee, and her newspaper, bag, and briefcase. She was a girl on a mission, perfumed and caffeinated, dressed in a burgundy suit and a white shirt, her hair loose to her shoulders. She’d checked online and ascertained that there was no new news about Trish, which was good news. But she had another problem to solve.
She powered down the hall and made a beeline for Bennie’s office, where the light was on. Voices came from inside; it would be Bennie and the other associate at the firm, Anne Murphy. Mary reached the office, and court papers, depositions, and files blanketed the desk, credenza, round table, and even the striped couch against the wall.
She stuck her head in the open door, but her nerve wavered. “Maybe this isn’t the best time,” she blurted out.
“Hi, Mary.” Anne looked up from the back table and tucked her glossy red hair behind an ear, her makeup perfect, her green eyes sparkling, and her body sleek in a russet knit dress. She was so gorgeous she deserved to be hated, which happened from time to time. Three is never a good number for women, especially if they have law degrees.
“Hey, Anne,” Mary said, bucking up at Anne’s warmth.
“DiNunzio, did you say something?” Bennie stood behind her desk, her unruly golden blond head bent over a deposition, and she was putting yellow Post-its on lines of the transcript. An elite rower, she had broad shoulders and stood so tall in her granite-gray suit that she looked like a skyscraper.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Mary made herself ask. Behind Bennie, glistening crystal awards, gold-toned plaques, and framed citations stocked her bookshelves and covered her walls. Bennie Rosato was one of the most highly regarded trial lawyers in the city, a maverick who fought for civil rights. Which, Mary now knew, didn’t pay as well as broken sunroofs.
“Come in and make it fast.” Bennie turned to Anne. “Murphy, can you leave us alone? DiNunzio’s having a hard time asking me something. She may faint. Stand by.”
“I’ll call 911.” Anne laughed and headed for the door. “By the way, thanks for the lasagna.”
“You ate it, you thief?” Mary tripped Anne when she passed, and Bennie gestured her to a seat.
“DiNunzio, come in, close the door, and state your business. You know how I get before cross-examination.”
“Cross?”
Bennie didn’t smile.
“I have something to talk to you about.” Mary lowered herself into a chair, still holding her stuff. If she put her coffee cup on the desk, it would undoubtedly spill on important papers, resulting in an unfavorable jury verdict and loss of gainful employment. “We need help.”
“We do?” Bennie returned to the transcript, flipping the page, which made its distinctively crinkly sound. She kept reading as she stood, her head bent, her hands braced on her desk.
“Yes, I think we need more help here.” Mary chose her words carefully, not wanting to reveal what Judy had told her. “I’m working really hard and I have so many active matters and it’s overwhelming. I have a special-ed case and I can’t give it the attention it needs.”
“Can’t this wait?” Bennie flipped the page.
“No, because I think we need to hire another associate, as soon as possible. I could keep her or him busy.” Mary had thought about it last night, when she’d gotten only three hours sleep. “I know it’s an all-woman firm, and I don’t care if we hire a woman or a man, obviously. I don’t even know if you intended the firm to be all women or not.”
“No.” Bennie flipped another page and kept reading. “You three were the best people, ovaries aside.”
Mary blushed. She knew she had reproductive organs, she just didn’t want to discuss them at the office. “Okay. Well, whatever the gender, I really need help.”
“No.”
Mary had thought there’d be more discussion. It threw her off balance. “Can I ask why not?”
“We don’t have the office space for another person right now, and I’ve been thinking about moving. So we can’t expand before we have the space, for one thing.”
“We could put the new person in the library, temporarily.”
“We need the library and the conference room.”
“Then they could work out of the office, or even at home.”
Bennie looked up sharply, her gaze a fiercely intelligent blue. “DiNunzio, I appreciate that you’re working hard. We all are. But this is a terrible time to discuss this. I have a jury trial this week.”
Mary swallowed hard. “I know, but—”
“I know you’re doing a terrific job, bringing in a lot of business right now.”
Right now?
“Your new clients and cases will cause a strain on you. It’s inevitable. But I can’t take on another associate just because you have a good quarter.”
Judy said three.
“I can’t take on someone and then let that person go when the cases aren’t coming in.”
But Judy said they were trending up.
“You remember when I almost lost the place? I don’t have to remind you that they had an eviction notice on the wall.” Bennie frowned. The phone on her desk rang, but she ignored it. “I can never put myself, or any of you
, in that position again.”
“What about a contract lawyer?” Mary had prepared for this argument. “Won’t the business I bring in pay for that person?”
“Money’s not the problem.” Bennie’s unlipsticked mouth curved into a tight smile. “Look, every six months or so, you feel overwhelmed. It’s a pattern. But I have faith in you, and you can get it all done. If you’re still feeling overwhelmed six months from now, we’ll talk again.”
But that will be too late. “Okay.” Mary juggled her coffee and got up.
“That’s a concession, DiNunzio. You’re getting better.” Bennie half-smiled. “By the way, I know some special-ed law. Come to me and we’ll talk about it, just not when I’m on trial.”
“Okay,” Mary said, though she knew she wouldn’t. They both did. When you feel dumb, the last place you go is the boss.
Suddenly, Anne appeared in the open doorway, slightly agitated. “Hate to interrupt you, Bennie, but that was me on the phone.” She gestured to Mary. “There are some clients here to see you.”
“At this hour?” Mary asked, going to the door.
“I’ll be right back, Bennie,” Anne called over Mary’s shoulder, then grabbed the door and closed it behind them. “Trust me, you don’t want her to see this.”
“What’s going on?” Mary asked, puzzled, as Anne hurried them both up the hall toward reception.
“Actually, I’m not sure they’re your clients. They look like your clients.”
Mary knew what she meant. Code for South Philly. Big hair and workmen’s comp appeals. “I’m not expecting anybody this morning.”
“They’re really pissed off at you.”
“Why?” Mary asked, and they’d gotten almost all the way up the hall when three women came charging from the reception area toward them, a flying wedge of curly extensions, big chests, and stiletto heels.
“Mare!” they shouted, from down the hall. “Mary DiNunzio? That you? Get your ass out here!”
At the middle of the hall, Judy, who must have just come into work, opened her office door and popped her head out, her expression astonished. “Who’s yelling? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” Mary answered, mystified until she recognized the three women. The Mean Girls—Giulia Palazzolo, Missy Toohey, and Yolanda Varlecki. Each wore tight blue jeans, huge gold earrings, and a form-fitting leather jacket in shades of black, black, and black, respectively. They all had long, matte-black hair in elaborate ringlets, distinguished only by the color of their highlights. Giulia’s streaks were ruby red, Missy’s bleached white, and Yolanda’s electric blue, our nation’s colors gone terribly wrong.
Giulia shouted, “You’re ignorant, Mare! This is all your fault!”
Missy yelled, “You don’t give a crap about anybody but yourself! I always hated your guts!”
Yolanda hollered, “I could effin’ kill you myself!”
Mary froze. Anne took her arm. Judy came out of her office. The three lawyers faced off against the three Mean Girls, but it was no contest. The lawyers had advanced degrees, but the Mean Girls had acrylic tips.
“What are you talking about?” Mary asked, but Judy stepped forward and put up a hand.
“Please stop yelling at my friend. That’s so not cool.”
“Yeah, cut it out,” Anne yelped, just as Missy shoved Judy backward, knocking her off balance. Mary leaped to catch her, dropping her coffee, purse, and briefcase, but Giulia yanked her hair and Yolanda screamed cigarette breath in her face. Mary struggled to get free, somebody with too much lipliner threw a punch at Anne, handbags and clogs went flying, and in the next second, Rosato & Associates hosted its first, full-fledged catfight.
“STOP THAT!” came a shout from down the hall, and Mary looked up from Giulia’s chokehold to see Bennie running toward them like a superhero, her suit jacket flying. Giulia only tightened her grip, but in the next moment Mary felt Bennie’s powerful hand clamp down on her arm and yank her out of harm’s way.
“STOP RIGHT NOW!” Bennie hollered.
“You’re scum!” Giulia yelled, pointing a lethal fingernail at Mary, who staggered to her feet and watched Bennie bring order to chaos. The boss grabbed Judy by the T-shirt, extricating her from the melee, and shielded Anne as she scrambled to her Blahniks and scooted from the fracas.
“STOP THAT THIS INSTANT!” Bennie shouted, stepping forward and grabbing Giulia by her padded leather shoulder. “HOW DARE YOU!”
“Who’re you?” Giulia practically spat. “A freakin’ Amazon?”
“Go.” Bennie released Giulia, who tottered slightly on her stilettos. “Get out of my office before I call the police.”
“Call them,” Giulia shot back “They’re good for nothin’.”
“Wrong, crazy.” Bennie towered over the Mean Girls, who seemed surprisingly intimidated. “They’re good for charging people with crimes. I’ll make sure they charge you with assault, battery, terroristic threats, and trespassing. Now get out of my office and don’t you ever, ever touch one of these girls again.”
“Ha!” Giulia erupted in a laugh. “You should know that your girl turned her back on our best friend—and now she’s gone.”
“You mean Trish?” Mary felt sick.
“Yeah, she’s gone.” Giulia’s mascared eyes burned with outrage. “And so’s he. All because you couldn’t be bothered.”
“How you live with yourself?” Missy yelled, and Yolanda glowered.
“I bet she’s dead right now because a you.”
Mary was stricken. Judy caught her eye. Anne cowered in the rear.
Bennie turned, her cheeks flushed. “DiNunzio, are these women speaking a language you understand, or are they merely delusional?”
“I understand,” Mary answered, miserably. Trish. Gone. “Don’t throw them out. I know them from high school.”
“You feel safe with them?” Bennie frowned. “Fine. DiNunzio, I leave this situation to you. I have a case to try.”
“Okay, sorry, thanks.” Mary nodded, and Bennie turned to Giulia.
“You. Go to the reception area. She’ll call you when she’s ready. Do what I say or leave.”
“Whatever.” Giulia turned away and pivoted on her spike heel, and Missy and Yolanda followed suit, all of them stalking off, trailing a crowd of perfume and adrenaline. Bennie and the associates watched them reach the reception area.
Judy couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Those girls are wack.”
“They’re girls?” Anne finger-combed her hair back into place.
“Sorry.” Mary picked up Judy’s clog and handed it to her. “Thanks for the help.”
Bennie shook her head. “Is everybody okay?”
“Fine,” Judy and Anne answered.
“Thanks.” Mary scooped up her purse, while Judy retrieved her briefcase. Anne got the Dunkin’ Donuts cup, mopping up the spilled coffee with the newspaper.
“DiNunzio, I’m surprised you agreed to meet with them.” Bennie frowned. “I wouldn’t reward that behavior. I’m still not sure you’ll be safe.”
“I’ll be fine. They’re just emotional.”
“Hormonal,” Judy said.
“Certifiable.” Anne looked up from the wet rug. “You shouldn’t be around them. You could catch really bad taste.”
“They’ll settle down.”
Bennie motioned to Judy. “Stay with her, Carrier. Don’t leave her alone with them.”
“Okay.”
Bennie put a soft hand on Mary’s shoulder and looked at her in a way that was almost maternal. “Don’t let them push you around, understand? They’re not worth one ounce of you.”
The boss never talked that way, and Judy and Anne looked over in surprise. But Mary barely heard the praise, engulfed by guilt. She flashed on Trish, crying in the office, her life dependent on a gun and the Pink Sisters.
Gone.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Mean Girls were no longer homicidal by the time they all sat down at the conference table,
and Mary could see the individual differences in them that she’d missed when they were trying to kill her. Giulia looked Italian, with large, warm brown eyes, a biggish nose, and full lips, each feature a bold stroke on an olive-skinned canvas, like Botticelli on acid. Missy Toohey had small, light blue eyes, a little nose with the tiniest bump, and heavy foundation that obliterated a freckled complexion, as if she were erasing her Irishness. Yolanda Varlecki looked like a working-class Angelina Jolie, with round brown eyes in perfect symmetry with a lovely nose and lips like hot dogs.
Mary began, “So tell me why you say she’s missing.”
“How about you tell us why you blew her off?” Giulia’s eyes flashed with anger. “She came to you for help, Mare. You’re from the neighborhood. You too good for us now?”
Mary’s mouth went dry. “I didn’t blow her off. I told her I’d take her to court but she didn’t want to go.”
“She was worried he’d kill her. Now maybe he did. Ya happy?”
Judy raised a warning hand. “That’s enough. Whatever happened, it’s not Mary’s fault and you know it.”
Giulia shot back, “Shut up, you don’t know me at all.” Then she fixed her dark gaze on Mary. “Alls I know is, my best friend’s missing and I don’t know what to do about it. Her mother’s outta her mind from worryin’. We’re all sick about it.” She glanced irritably around the conference room. “What’s the deal? Can I smoke in here?”
“No,” Judy answered, and Giulia’s eyes glittered.
“I don’t like you, girl.”
“Love is all around.” Judy flashed her a peace sign.
“Giulia,” Mary broke in, “tell me what happened, as best you know. It was Trish’s birthday, right? And he had some kind of surprise?”
“Yeh. We thought he was gonna propose, and she was afraid because she didn’t want to say yes. The only way she’d accept is if he put a gun to her head.”
Mary felt a chill, bone deep. “Do you know if he was taking her out to give her the surprise? Or was he bringing it home?”
“They never shopped for a ring, but I dunno. Wait. Lemme think.” Giulia calmed down as she sorted out her confusion. “She called me at seven o’clock, all nervous that he’d be home any minute. Now that I think about it, she did mention they were going out.”
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