Accused: A Rosato & Associates Novel

by Lisa Scottoline

  Chapter Twelve

  The offices of Rosato & Associates were empty, quiet, and still, and the air smelled of stale coffee, cold lo mein, and sugary Bubblicious gum, which both Mary and Judy chewed with the intensity of hamsters on a flywheel, as if they were generating an alternative source of energy, powering themselves. They had transformed the small conference room into a war room, with the Stall trial record, exhibits, and stacks of daily transcripts cluttering the conference table, and the articles Mary had found online about Fiona’s murder tacked up on a bulletin board that rested on two easels.

  Mary was reading the trial record, but had finished only with the first day and knew she was running out of time. The windows showed the bright lights of the office buildings, and the wall clock, which she checked every five minutes, read 8:35. She resented that she had to hurry up and get home by nine, which would never happen, and she was kicking herself for not telling Anthony later. She pulled over the thick transcript of the second day of trial, looking up at Judy. “How are you doing?”

  “Fine, plowing through.” Judy raised her bleary gaze from the pleadings index, which would show everything that had been filed in the case. She loved the academic side of the legal analysis and was a born appellate lawyer, which was considered the crème de la crème of lawyerdom. In contrast, Mary was a trial-court kind of gal, because she liked the nitty-gritty of courtroom battle and preferred tomato sauce to crème.

  “Learning anything?”

  “His lawyer wasn’t terrible, just inexperienced. But he cited the right cases, even current ones. His papers were very good.”

  Mary smiled. That “papers were good” was the highest compliment Judy could give someone. “So he did a good job.”

  “Yes, but he lost, because as we know, you can do a good job and still lose.” Judy nodded curling her upper lip. She had taken off her blue jacket and left it crumpled on the seat next to her, whereas Mary had hung hers on a hanger behind the door. They were the Goofus and Gallant of the law, and liked it that way, especially Mary, who got to be Gallant.

  “I admire Stall for not taking the deal at the outset,” she said.

  “I don’t. That’s why he was sentenced to the maximum. They were making him pay. Not only didn’t he plead out, he asked for a jury trial.” Judy didn’t have to elaborate. They both knew the dirty little secret of the criminal justice system, that it rested on a shaky foundation of plea bargains in which defendants could be cajoled, manipulated, and sometimes pressured into pleading guilty. Mary knew that many of them would be guilty, but some wouldn’t, and she wondered if Lonnie Stall could be one of them, actually innocent.

  Suddenly, they both turned to the pinging sound of the elevator and the commotion in the hallway that told them that Bennie and Anne were back.

  Judy set down the pleading index. “The hunter is home from the hill.”

  “Wonder if they won,” Mary said, as Bennie popped her head in the doorway, with a grin. Her suit was wrinkled and her blonde curls looked even more unruly, but her blue eyes flashed with animation. Bennie came alive on trial. When she wasn’t around a jury, she was like an attack dog with time on his hands.

  “Hey, ladies!”

  “How’d you do?”

  “Good. Got another day left.” Bennie entered the room and picked up the take-out container of lo mein, which happened to have two ballpoints stuck inside. “What’s this?”

  Judy smiled. “They forgot the chopsticks. It works. Have some.”

  “That’s okay, I ate.”

  “Where’s Anne?” Mary asked.

  “She went home. I came by to pick up some papers. The Natick case is rearing its ugly head, and I’ll be up all night. What’s happening on Gardner?”

  Mary and Judy exchanged glances. “We’re of two different minds,” Mary answered.

  “You want to talk it out?”

  “Sure.” Mary had an eye on the wall clock. “We’ll tell it quick.”

  “DiNunzio, you go first.” Bennie eased onto the conference table.

  Mary brought her up to date, and Bennie listened carefully, asking only a few questions, her expression impassive, then Judy gave her point of view, after which they both waited nervously, like opposing counsel before a hanging judge.

  “I don’t like what I’m hearing.” Bennie folded her arms, and her lower lip puckered with dissatisfaction. “I’m worried about Allegra Gardner and her emotional stability. I agree with Judy that we’re being led around by this kid, and the qualms I had before are only worse. We could actually be doing her harm by indulging her in a fantasy.”

  Mary could see that Judge Rosato wasn’t ruling in her favor. “But we don’t know that, and Allegra is our client. We’ve never been in the business of evaluating or judging our own clients.”

  Bennie shook her head. “That’s true, but we’ve never represented a minor before, particularly one under psychiatric care.”

  “What if Allegra is right about Stall’s innocence? I think she is.” Mary turned to Judy. “Don’t you agree?”

  “Yes.” Judy nodded. “But to me, it’s a broken-clock problem. It’s right twice a day.”

  Bennie eased off the table and headed for the door. “Tread carefully with the family. Her parents obviously love her and they’re trying to do the right thing by her. The question is what is the right thing, and the father is correct, the balance of power is warped because she has money.”

  Mary couldn’t agree. “But her having money isn’t a bad thing, it’s a good thing. If Lonnie Stall is innocent, then that money will set him free.”

  Bennie paused in the threshold. “Either way, resolve this quickly. Get Lou involved as soon as possible. Send him an email on his vacation. He’s only in Jersey, he can come back early. You guys could use the extra hand, and that could bring it to a close more quickly.”

  “What’s the rush?” Mary checked the time, and it was almost ten o’clock. She needed to work all night, too, and Bennie was only turning up the heat.

  “The Gardner family has resources, and they’re only starting to flex. They didn’t get successful by rolling over, and John Gardner isn’t about to be pushed around by his teenage daughter, much less by the lawyers she hired.”

  “So what are you saying?” Mary asked, with dismay. “We’re not dropping the case.”

  “Of course not, but this representation shouldn’t last much longer. I don’t want to bill her for any more than the five grand. Nor do I want the Gardner case to be a priority for this firm.”

  “I do,” Mary blurted out, and for a second, the partners looked at each other from opposite sides of the conference table. Judy’s blonde head swiveled back and forth, as if she were watching a tennis match.

  Bennie’s expression softened. “That probably came out wrong. You have an equal vote, DiNunzio, I know that.”

  “Thanks.” Mary felt her heart beat a little quicker, but told herself to calm down. “We’ll work the case and keep you in the loop. Thanks for your help.”

  “Anytime. Good night.” Bennie left the conference room.

  Judy looked over at Mary, then burst into a sly grin. “I think the queen bees just crossed stingers.”

  “Bzzz,” Mary said, reaching for her cell phone.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Honey, I’m home,” Mary said, coming through the door. She dropped her purse and messenger bag on the floor beside the console table, exhausted and worried. She hadn’t finished reading the trial record, but she hadn’t seen anything in it so far that looked shaky or worth exploring. She’d emailed their firm investigator, Lou Jacobs, but he hadn’t written back yet. She hadn’t even gotten to catch up with her other cases or answer her email. It was almost midnight, but she had called Anthony to tell him she’d be late.

  “In the kitchen, honey!” he called out, his tone warm and friendly, which only made her feel more guilty.

  “Sorry I was so late,” Mary called back, ignoring the mail, sliding out of her jacket, an
d walking through the living room to the kitchen, where Anthony sat at the table, grading papers.

  “It’s okay, I understand. I figured I’d get the jump, too.” Anthony rose and held out his arms, and Mary walked over and fell into his embrace. He had on his Ramones T-shirt, which felt soft against her cheek, and he smelled vaguely of pencil lead, which made her smile. Anthony Rotunno was one of the few people who still used pencils.

  “I love you,” Mary told him, meaning it. She was lucky to have him here, waiting for her.

  “I love you, too.” Anthony squeezed her tight, then rocked her in his arms. “You’re going to be my wife, and I’m going to be your husband, you realize that?”

  Mary stiffened, but hoped he couldn’t feel it. She pulled away, managing a smile. “Whoa, husband.”

  “Whoa, wife.” Anthony grinned down at her, his eyes a soft brown. He reached out and moved a strand of hair from Mary’s face. “You look stressed out, babe.”

  “I am, kind of, and this Gardner case is a tough one. Bennie’s not really on board with it, I found out tonight, so we’ll have to see how that goes.” Mary let him go, rubbing her eyes.

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing really, but it’ll be interesting to see what results when we disagree.” Mary wandered over to the refrigerator, even though she wasn’t hungry. She was a classic emotional eater, though she couldn’t think of a better reason to eat. “What did you do for dinner?”

  “I had a cheese sandwich. There’s some leftover provolone, and I got fresh olives on the way home.”

  “Yum.” Mary spotted the plastic container of green Ceregnola olives, which Anthony knew were her favorite. “What a nice thing to do.”

  “I’m trying to show you what a good husband I’ll be.”

  “I know that.” Mary set the olives on the counter, then noticed that her fig tree was looking a little dry, so she picked up the watering can, twisted on the faucet, and filled it. “So how was your day?”

  “Very exciting. I told everybody in the department, which was quite a scene.” Anthony chuckled. “So they’re all happy. Jim, Ravi, and Celine want to take us out tomorrow night. Can you go? It’s the one night they’re all free.”

  “Not sure yet, but I doubt it.” Mary cringed. “This new case, you know?”

  “Can we leave it open? Call me if you can’t? They can make it late, even after dinner, like around nine o’clock. They all live near school.”

  “How about I call you if I can, instead?” Mary knew he didn’t mean to pressure her, but it felt that way.

  “Okay,” Anthony said, and if he was disappointed, he didn’t let it show. “Of course, they’re planning a bachelor party, but a bunch of academics, don’t worry, we’ll behave. Also don’t forget, my mom’s birthday is Thursday night, six o’clock. Your parents will be there, too.”

  “Oh, right.” Mary saw more of her family since she moved out. If she moved back in, she’d never see them. “What did you get her?”

  “A silver photo frame, well, silverplate. I figure she’ll need a nice one for our wedding photo.”

  “Good idea, thanks for taking care of that.” Mary watered her fig tree, thinking that it was just last night she had spotted her engagement ring, and now they were talking about honeymoons and bachelor parties.

  “Did Judy really like the ring? It sounded like she did on the phone.”

  “She loved it, they all did.”

  “What did everybody else say?” Anthony shifted forward on his seat.

  “When I walked in, they all clucked and cooed, and jumped up and down, even Bennie.” Mary finished watering the plant, then set the pitcher down. “Lawyers gone berserk.”

  “Good!” Anthony beamed. “That was the desired effect. I was so nervous trying to pick it out. I wish we had done even a flyby once or twice to get an idea of what you like. But I know you generally keep it simple, so that’s why I went with the solitaire.”

  “Good call.” Mary opened a container of olives, then did a double-take. “It’s almost as big as an olive pit.”

  “Ha! The saleslady gave me the clarity-and-cut speech, but I ended up going for the better stone instead of the bigger ones.”

  “But it’s a big stone.” Mary didn’t add, too big.

  “Most importantly, it’s high-quality, just like you.”

  “Aw. Just one thing, I was wondering if we need to get the band sized down.” Mary walked over, swiveling the ring back and forth on her finger, which she’d been doing most of the cab ride home. “I’m kind of worried that it could fall off.”

  “Let me see.” Anthony held out his hand, and Mary placed her hand in his palm, an unintended replay of last night that made her feel a warm rush of love for him, so strong that it almost sent her ambivalence scattering. Anthony bent over the ring, moving it this way and that slowly, frowning with a concentration that was characteristic of everything he did. He wanted everything to be perfect for her, and Mary thought she must be crazy to have doubts about marrying him.

  Anthony looked up. “It looks just a little bit big. I thought you were a size seven, but maybe they can make it down to a six and a half.”

  “They should. I worried the whole day about it falling off.” Mary slid the ring off her finger and handed it back to him. “You think you can take it back?”

  “You should come with me, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, right, of course.” Mary picked up a napkin from the holder on the table, wrapped the ring inside, and put it in her skirt pocket. When she lifted her head, Anthony was looking at her funny. She asked, “What is it?”

  “I feel like that’s an accident waiting to happen. Don’t forget it’s in there and take the skirt to the dry cleaner’s or something.”

  “I won’t.”

  Anthony’s expression darkened. “Listen, there’s something important I need to ask you about, though. You need to be sitting down. It’s a hard question.”

  “For real?” Mary’s heart sank. “Didn’t we just do this last night?”

  Anthony blinked, frowning in confusion. “No, last night I asked you to marry me. That wasn’t a hard question, was it?”

  “No, of course not, I didn’t mean it that way.” Mary flushed, busted. “I was just tired. Sorry.” She sat down opposite him. “What is it you wanted to ask me?”

  “Well, it’s about your dress.”

  “What dress?”

  “Your wedding dress. I’m giving you the heads-up. I think my mother wants to go with you and your mother when you try them on. Is that okay?”

  “Of course,” Mary answered, relieved. She hadn’t pictured anyone but her mother, Judy, and maybe even Angie coming along when she tried on wedding dresses, but she hadn’t really imagined trying on wedding dresses yet, at all. “Sure, she’s welcome. It’ll be fun.”

  “Thanks.” Anthony broke into a grateful smile. “She was asking me about when you and your mom are going for your dress. She knows you and your mother are really close and she won’t ask. She wouldn’t want you to think she was overstepping her bounds.”

  “Not at all,” Mary said, rising. Her face felt warm, and her mouth had gone dry, but she was telling herself it was the salty olives. “I called her Mom today.”

  “She told me.” Anthony rose, coming over and slipping an arm around Mary’s shoulders. “That was so sweet of you. She called me afterwards, crying.”

  “Really?” Mary felt touched.

  “She always wanted a daughter, and who wouldn’t want a daughter like you?”

  “Aw, thanks,” Mary said, her heart lighter as they turned off the lights and left the kitchen. She felt relieved not to have the ring on her finger any longer, as if a weight had been lifted off her mind, or she was back to being herself again.

  Maybe it would take her a while to get to the jeweler.

  Later, after Anthony had gone to sleep, Mary awoke, sneaked in to her home office, and closed the door quietly behind her, flicking on the light. She padd
ed in her pink bathrobe and bare feet to her desk, sat down, and moved the computer mouse to wake up the laptop.

  She navigated to the Internet, went to Google, and plugged in girl genius helicopter, and a line of articles popped onto the page, just like last night. She clicked on the first article, again from the city’s tabloid, with a headline, FIERY FATAL CRASH ON PLAYGROUND, above a horrific scene of orange-red flames blazing skyward from the blackened carcasses of a helicopter and an airplane.

  Mary swallowed hard, scrolling down to read the article, which showed a school picture of Allegra in first grade, her eyes preternaturally serious behind her glasses, with just the barest hint of a smile, and her long hair tied back too severely to be cool or pretty. The caption read, ALLEGRA GARDNER, who predicted the crash only minutes before, from watching wind currents on the playground.

  Mary cringed, knowing what that kind of notoriety could cause, and she read on, but the article provided no new details beyond what John Gardner had told her today. Still she clicked Print, then Close, and went to the next article. She’d read that, too, printed it like the others, and would bring them into the office, where she could put them up on their own easel in the war room, next to the articles about the murder. She knew that it wasn’t necessarily relevant, but the more Mary knew about Allegra, the more she wanted to know.

  She worked the rest of the night that way, in silence and solitude, a woman sitting in front of a computer, reading until the blackness outside had lifted and ceded the sky not to sun, but to the thickest of cloud covers, impenetrable. And when she realized it was dawn, Mary found herself looking out the window, wondering what it was like to be able to see through the clouds like Allegra, to be able to sense disaster in the very wind, before it struck.

  Saving everyone, but sacrificing yourself.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The sky was incongruously clear and sunny over SCI Graterford, which was Pennsylvania’s largest maximum-security prison, located in Collegeville, about thirty miles west of Philadelphia. Presently, it housed an all-time high of 3,700 adult male felons on 1,700 acres, which made it sound positively bucolic, if you’d never seen the place.