Accused

by Lisa Scottoline

  It struck Mary that the décor had an awful lot to say, though none of this had given her a second thought before. She wasn’t usually judgmental about furniture, especially since she barely had any, but tonight, she found herself reading the signs as if they were red flags.

  “Mary?” Anthony asked, standing in front of her with the packet of birthday candles and a matchbook. “Did you hear me?”

  “No, sorry.”

  “The natives are restless out there, and you didn’t open the cake box.” Anthony’s expression softened, and he caressed her shoulder. “You okay? You look kind of dazed.”

  Mary’s mouth went dry. “What if the hokey pokey is what it’s all about?”

  “What?” Anthony burst into laughter, set down the birthday candles and matchbook, and put his arms around her. “It’s my brother, isn’t it? You know he’s an idiot, you don’t need to listen to him. I never expected you to change your name and I don’t want you to. You’re Mary DiNunzio, and you always will be, forever and ever and ever. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” Mary buried herself in his embrace, trying to clear her head.

  “You’ve got a lot going on lately, and you haven’t slept decently in a while. And how can you function, if your sexual needs aren’t being met? You’re a young woman.”

  Mary smiled, and Anthony released her gently, smiling down at her.

  “Mary, why don’t you go out there, sit down, and relax while I bring the cake out? Go, now.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, see you, bye.” Anthony took her by her shoulders, marched her to the door, then swatted her on the butt, which propelled her into the dining room. She went to her chair, sat down, took a sip of water, and watched the rest of the birthday celebration in a blur, as Anthony brought out the cake, glowing with candles, which were blown out, then cake was eaten and coffee drunk, presents were opened and hugs dispensed all around, then El Virus stood up, with a teary smile.

  “I just want to thank all of you for making this such a special birthday. But I have a surprise, a birthday present to myself that’s just between Mary and me.”

  Mary set down her coffee, worried. She hadn’t gotten Elvira anything for her birthday, except the flowers and half of the silver frame.

  “Mary, I know you’re looking forward to shopping for a wedding dress. I know how important that is to every girl.”

  Suddenly Mary realized what El Virus has been talking about, since Anthony had prepped her the other night. “You’re right, Elvira. I really am looking forward to getting a wedding dress, and I would love it if you would come with my mother and me when we go shopping.”

  “Thank you, but that’s not the surprise. Wait a minute.” Elvira walked to the threshold of the dining room, where there was a coat closet. She opened the door, reached inside, and pulled out a long, white garment bag.

  “Lemme help, Ma.” Dom rose heavily, as if on cue, then held up the garment bag by the hanger, unzipped it, and together they extracted an ancient wedding dress, which he turned front and back, to display in all its grandeur.

  El Virus beamed, wet-eyed, as she turned to Mary. “Mary, I would be so happy if you would wear my wedding dress on your wedding day, as a special birthday present from a new daughter to a new mother.”

  Mary’s mouth went dry. She didn’t know why El Virus wanted her to wear Scumbag’s dress, but she wasn’t about to ask. The dress wasn’t merely outdated, but simply the ugliest wedding dress Mary had ever seen, no matter what the era. It looked like South Philly meets Gone with the Wind, with an immensely puffy skirt with equally poufy sleeves and a bodice of heavily beaded white lace, so bright it could illuminate the dining room, if not the tri-state area. Massively ruffled chiffon flowers ringed the scoop neckline, like a series of timed chemical explosions. A thick band of beads at the waistline guaranteed a dangerously diminished oxygen supply, and a billowing bustle in back looked like a second derriere. Hanging behind the dress was a beaded lace train long enough to be Amtrak’s Acela from Washington, D.C., to Boston.

  Anthony’s mouth dropped open. “Mom, that’s very nice of you, but Mary might want to pick out her own dress. She’d be happy if you went with them, though. Wouldn’t that be fun? You girls can make a day of it, maybe have lunch?”

  El Virus dismissed him with a wave. “But a dress like that wouldn’t have any sentimental meaning. This dress has sentimental meaning between me and Mary.”

  Dom nodded, eyeing the dress in wonderment. “I totally agree with Ma. This dress, it’s got a lot of meaning. Plus it’s so beautiful. Look at alla these flowers and everything. It’s got things going on, everywhere you look. You couldn’t buy a dress like this today, even if you tried.” Dom faced Mary. “You know what I’m sayin’, Mare?”

  “Yes.” Mary nodded slowly, entering a fashion coma. “There’s no way you could buy a dress like that today.”

  “They don’t make them like they used to,” Elvira jumped in, like a tag team. “Anthony, you shouldn’t answer for Mary, just because you’re going to be her husband. She’s a modern woman, a career girl, a lawyer. That’s why she’s going to keep her own name. So let her speak for herself.”

  Mary swallowed hard, dumbfounded. She didn’t want to crush Elvira on her birthday or she would have simply answered no. In fact, there were so many ways to say no that she didn’t know where to begin. She could simply vomit, but that wasn’t a realistic option. She was about to speak when El Virus held up her index finger.

  “Wait, no, Mare. Don’t say nothin’ ’til you see the headpiece.”

  “Headpiece?” Mary asked, in horror.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  “What was I supposed to say?” Mary said later, turning to Anthony in the car. They’d just left El Virus’s house and the wedding dress debacle. “I couldn’t say yes, but I said no in the nicest way possible.”

  “You could have said no. Just, no.” The Prius was dark in the interior, but Mary could see his handsome profile in the lights from the dashboard. She knew by the press of his lips that he was upset, and so was she.

  “I did say no.”

  “No, you didn’t, not exactly. You said ‘no, but I’ll keep an open mind.’”

  “That’s exactly what I said. So, I said no.”

  “That is not exactly no.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “No. It’s ‘no, but.’” Anthony steered the car expertly through the warren of one-way streets of the neighborhood, and Mary felt grateful every time they drove home that she didn’t have to direct him.

  “Saying that I’ll keep an open mind doesn’t negate the ‘no.’ The ‘no’ still stands, so I said ‘no.’”

  “You’re talking like a lawyer.”

  “Can you blame me?” Mary shot back, more sharply than she intended, and Anthony looked over, stung, at the stop sign.

  “Honey, I’m really sorry that happened. I had no idea she was going to ask you that. I told you before, I thought she was going to ask you to go dress shopping.”

  “I know, and I didn’t mean to snap at you.” Mary couldn’t tell if they were in a fight or not, but the conversation felt like just another wedding headache. She was dying to talk this over with Judy, but her best friend still hadn’t called back and Mary wondered if they were in a fight, too.

  “I tried running interference for you, that’s why I jumped in.”

  “I realize that, and I appreciate it.” Mary glanced out the window, and the street was dark, illuminated only by the flickering TV sets in everyone’s front window, like South Philly lightning.

  “You’re allowed to say ‘no, thank you.’”

  “I didn’t think I could say no in that situation. It’s her dress, it was her birthday, and it’s your mother, for God’s sake.”

  “I understand, and that’s why I know with her you have to say no. No. No. No.” Anthony hit the gas, his tone exasperated. “With her, if there’s any opening at all, she drives the wedge. Dom and I talk abo
ut the wedge all the time.”

  “What’s the wedge?” Mary would’ve laughed, under other circumstances.

  “The wedge is wiggle room. The wedge is uncertainty. The wedge is possibility.”

  “I didn’t know about the wedge. How could I have known about the wedge?”

  “You couldn’t, but I’m telling you now, for the future.” Anthony’s tone wasn’t angry, just exasperated. “Most people, if you said to them, ‘no, but I’ll keep an open mind,’ they hear that you really don’t want to do something and they let it go. That’s how you are.”

  Mary nodded. She wondered if that’s how Anthony was, too. Then she wondered if that was what she had really meant to say to his marriage proposal. No, but I’ll keep an open mind.

  “If you give my mother the wedge, she drives it in with a sledgehammer. She takes it as a yes.” Anthony steered the car north on Broad Street toward Center City, and the round yellow clock atop City Hall glowed like a full moon.

  “You think she thinks I’m wearing the dress?”

  “I think she’s going to work on you and try to make you wear the dress. She thinks it’s just a matter of time until you say yes.”

  Mary moaned, and just then her BlackBerry started ringing. She slid it from her blazer pocket and checked the lighted screen, hoping it was Judy, but it was her father. She pressed Answer. “Hi, Pop.”

  “HOW YOU DOIN’?”

  “Fine. Did you have fun at dinner? I think Elvira really liked that bowl you guys got her.”

  “YES, BUT THAT’S NOT WHY I’M CALLING,” her father said, and Mary could hear her mother was speaking Italian in the background, which she only did when she was upset.

  “Pop, what’s up?”

  “YOUR MOTHER DOESN’T THINK YOU SHOULD WEAR ELVIRA’S WEDDING DRESS IF YOU DON’T WANT TO.”

  Mary switched the phone to her right ear quickly, but she knew Anthony could still hear. Every call from her father sounded like it was on speaker. In fact, she was pretty sure they could hear every word in Camden.

  “SHE DOESN’T THINK ELVIRA SHOULD TELL YOU TO WEAR HER DRESS. I AGREE WITH YOUR MOTHER.”

  “Thanks.” Mary felt a rush of love for both of them, but didn’t want this fiasco to become their problem. “Anthony and I were just talking about it, and we’ll handle it from here.”

  “YOUR MOTHER THINKS YOU SHOULDA JUST SAID NO.”

  Mary sighed. “I understand that now, but I was trying to be nice.”

  “YOU’RE TOO NICE, MARE. YOU KNOW HOW ELVIRA IS. SHE’S A GOOD LADY BUT SHE CAN BE BOSSY.”

  Mary glanced over to see if Anthony was offended, but he was nodding.

  “Your father is exactly right,” he said under his breath, chuckling.

  “YOUR MOTHER DOESN’T WANT YOU TO GET TALKED INTO WEARING THAT DRESS, EVEN THOUGH IT WAS BEAUTIFUL.”

  Mary smiled. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

  “YOUR MOTHER THINKS ELVIRA IS GOING TO TALK YOU INTO IT.”

  “She won’t, Pop. Don’t worry.”

  “SHE BETTER NOT. IT’S NOT HER PLACE. BECAUSE YOUR MOTHER WANTS YOU TO WEAR HER DRESS AT YOUR WEDDING.”

  Mary blanched. “What?”

  “SHE WAS GONNA TELL YOU BUT ELVIRA BEAT HER TO THE PUNCH. SHE WANTS YOU TO WEAR HER DRESS. THE ONE SHE MARRIED ME IN.”

  Mary had no idea what to do or say. No, but I’ll keep an open mind?

  “YOUR MOTHER’S DRESS IS EVEN MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN ELVIRA’S. YOU KNOW. YOU SEEN IT IN OUR WEDDING PICTURE ON TOP A THE TV.”

  Mary closed her eyes, and a vision of her mother’s wedding dress materialized like a ghost. The dress was a satin version of a nun’s habit, with severe lines, a narrow waistband, and a collar so high and thick it could’ve been a neck brace.

  Anthony looked over, with a smile. “Now this is getting interesting.”

  “Pop, tell Ma I love her and let’s talk about this another time. I have a lot on my mind right now, we don’t have to think about dresses. It’s late, so go to bed, and we’ll talk about this another day, okay? Tell Ma I love her, but we have to go, good-bye.”

  “Okay, good night, Mare, we love you.”

  “Bye,” Mary said hanging up, and rubbing her face.

  “Oh man, what happens now? Mother or mother-in-law? It’s no-win.” Anthony chuckled, but he wasn’t the one who had to choose between dresses, or mothers.

  “Honestly, I really don’t want to deal with it now.”

  “You seem so bothered. What’s going on?”

  Mary thought of her car, still at the impound lot. “My car got towed because I couldn’t find a legal space last night.”

  “Oh no.” Anthony cringed. “Sorry. You’re mad.”

  “No, just bugged.”

  “I’ll take you tomorrow, I only have class until three, then we meet everybody for drinks, remember?”

  “Oh, right.” Mary rubbed her forehead. She had forgotten.

  “You can still go, right?”

  “Yes, I can.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  Mary felt guilty for being annoyed about going. “I can, it’s just that we’re at the lowest point in this case yet.”

  “How so?” Anthony glanced over, his tone softening, and they stopped at a traffic light on Lombard Street, almost home. “Tell me what’s going on in your case. I can understand it, and it might help to talk about it.”

  Mary suppressed a sigh as the car cruised ahead and she knew they’d be orbiting the block to find an empty parking space. “There’s too many details.”

  “So give me the gist. It helps me to understand what you do, and you never really talk about your work, not in specifics.”

  Mary reflected that he was probably right, but the last thing she wanted to do after a long day of disappointment was to talk about disappointment. “Lou and I have been working on it, but I don’t think we have enough to get the investigation reopened and I’m not sure what to do next.”

  “Do you believe it should be reopened?”

  “Yes, absolutely.” Mary felt a stirring in her gut at the notion that Lonnie Stall was behind bars, while Tim Gage was driving around in a Jaguar. “I think an injustice was committed, and it’s driving me crazy.”

  “How does an investigation get reopened? Do you have to file a brief with the court or make a motion?”

  “No, you go to the district attorney and ask them to reopen it.”

  “You just ask, person-to-person?”

  “Yes. You make your case.” Mary realized that it was unusual, in a profession layered with needless paperwork, procedural rules, and technical complexity.

  “So why don’t you just go and ask?”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?” Anthony looked over, braking at the next traffic light. “If you believe it that strongly, you can convince them. You’re very convincing when you want to be.”

  “But I don’t have all my ducks in a row. I’m not ready yet.”

  “If you wait until you’re ready, you might lose your chance.” Anthony turned to her calmly, and suddenly Mary wondered if they were talking about the case anymore. Or maybe he was, but she wasn’t.

  “You know, you might be right,” Mary said, after a moment. She’d never done anything like it before, especially not on her own, without Judy. But she was a partner now, and it wasn’t about her, at all. It was about Lonnie Stall, unjustly accused, and Fiona Gardner, whose murderer had gone free. “If I work all night, I bet I can get my act together. Would you mind dropping me off at the office?”

  “Now? Aren’t you tired?”

  “Not anymore,” Mary answered, pretty sure she wasn’t using work as an excuse.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  The next morning, Mary sat across from the empty desk of Chief of the Homicide Division, trying not to be intimidated while she waited for the Chief herself. There were three hundred lawyers in the Office of the District Attorney of Philadelphia, and they hired only the best and the brightest. The cream
of the crop worked in the homicide division, twenty-five of them, and they all reported to the capo di tuttl capi, Chief Gloria Weber. Weber was renowned for her judgment, fairness, and intelligence, and her name appeared in the newspaper headlines only when necessary. Mary knew if she had a shot with anyone, it would be Gloria Weber, and the proof was that the Chief had agreed to take the meeting when Mary had called and begged her this morning.

  Mary looked around at the large corner office with windows on two sides, showing a southeastern view that was the sunniest. On the wall to the right was a lineup of diplomas and certificates of admission, as well as civic awards. The desk was a modern L shape, of a dark indeterminate wood, and there was a black leather sectional couch to the left, across from a standard-issue row of battered tan file cabinets. A bookshelf held a variety of photos of Weber’s three young sons, as well as law books, the Pennsylvania Crimes Code, and notebooks labeled SENTENCING GUIDELINES.

  “Good morning, Mary.” Weber breezed in with a Starbucks vente and a winning smile, and her appearance took Mary aback. Gloria Weber was almost a dead-ringer for Julia Roberts, tall and slim in a black turtleneck, black slacks, and low heels. Her red-brown hair was pulled back in a knot, and a warmth and humor played around her eyes, with crow’s-feet just beginning to show.

  “Thanks so much for seeing me on such short notice.”

  “You lucked out. I’m not in court today and I took pity on you.” Weber strode around the desk, smiling at her in wry amusement. “I thought you were going to cry if I said no.”

  “You could tell?” Mary burst into laughter, feeling at ease, and she understood instantly why Weber was such a successful trial lawyer, because she was completely charming.

  “This office is always happy to help an outstanding member of the defense bar, such as Rosato & Associates.” Weber set her Starbucks on the desk and sat down, swiveling in her chair in a way that suggested she was having fun. “So go back and tell Bennie I’m not the enemy.”

  “Will do.” Mary smiled. “So you know why I’m here. I’ve been investigating the Lonnie Stall case. I want to try and persuade you to reopen the investigation.”