A Killer's Alibi (Philadelphia Legal)

by William L. Myers Jr.

  “He’s going to have them there?” Angelo asks in disbelief.

  “He’s going to have his whole family there. His lawyer, too, and his family.”

  “Stupid son of a bitch.”

  “Remember, I want the wife and daughter brought back alive. I want their deaths on film for Jimmy to watch. Once we get our guy into that jail, he’ll make sure it’s the last thing Nunzio sees before he dies.”

  Frank looks around the room, lifts his beer, waits for the others to do the same.

  “For Tony,” he says.

  “For Tony!” the others shout.

  20

  SATURDAY, MAY 25–SUNDAY, MAY 26

  Piper stands next to Mick, watching the children play.

  “Gabby lucked out,” he tells her.

  “We all did. It’s a perfect day for this,” she says, looking around at their backyard, full of children searching for goodies, the “treasure hunt” portion of the program they put together to celebrate Gabrielle’s tenth birthday. The kids had already done the hula-hoop relay, the three-legged relay, played on the jungle gym and the mini zip line. When done with the treasure hunt, they’ll assemble around the piñata to take turns trying to break open the purple-and-yellow donkey.

  “When did kids’ parties get this elaborate?” Mick asks.

  She shakes her head. “It was after my time, that’s for sure.” She watches the kids scour the yard, but her mind is on the Dowd case and the plan to interview Lois Beal.

  Tommy called late Thursday and confirmed that the woman he found was Lois. “She lives on St. Simons Island, Georgia,” he’d said. “I’m ninety-nine percent certain it’s her.” He also reminded Piper again that Lois was sitting on a big secret—something that could send her to prison—and she was just as likely to shut them out as to share what happened the day Lester Dowd was murdered.

  “I thought about approaching her myself,” he said. “But I think she’s more likely to open up to you and Susan than to me.”

  She called Susan with the news, and they booked a flight for that evening to Jacksonville, on American Airlines. Piper told Susan the later flight would give her time to handle Gabby’s birthday party; Susan said she had things to do and was fine with the evening flight as well.

  “Thinking about tomorrow?” Mick asks.

  “Was I zoning out? I guess I was.” She nods. “Yeah, thinking about Lois Beal.”

  “I hope it pans out the way you’re hoping.”

  “You don’t think it will, do you?”

  He pauses, takes a sip from his Blue Moon. “I just take the innocence claims of prisoners with a grain of salt, that’s all. I’ve been around the block too many times.”

  “I know,” she says. “I just really want her to be innocent. After what her father did to her. All the years she’s spent in prison. I feel like her life was taken from her before it even started.”

  “I hope she’s innocent, too. And if so, I hope you and Susan can persuade a judge to let her out.”

  Piper smiles wanly. She looks at the picnic table, where a bunch of the kids are spreading their “treasures”—small toys and trinkets she’d bought and hidden around the yard for them to find.

  Gabby comes up to them, says it’s time for the piñata. Mick escorts her to the candy-stuffed donkey hanging by a rope from a tree branch. He calls one of the other girls up and places a blindfold on her. He hands her a stick and spins her around, then nudges her in the direction of the donkey. The other kids shout and cheer as she swings the stick wildly.

  Piper’s heart aches to think that Darlene Dowd was not much older than these kids when her father started raping her.

  “Come on, Lois,” she says quietly. “Come through for us. Come through for Darlene.”

  It’s 5:30 when Mick pulls the Audi out of the driveway. Piper is riding shotgun, and Gabby and Franklin are squeezed in the back seat. It’ll take about forty-five minutes to get to the airport, giving Piper more than enough time to make the 7:30 flight.

  “You know it’s still my birthday,” Gabrielle says from behind them.

  “I know, honey,” Piper says, turning around. “I wish I didn’t have to go.”

  “We’ll do something fun when she gets back home,” Mick says over his shoulder.

  He sees Gabby’s arms crossed in the rearview mirror. She’s not buying it.

  Mick pulls up next to Terminal B and pops the trunk. Piper gets out and opens the back door while he retrieves her suitcase. He moves up beside her as she leans in, gives Gabrielle a big hug, and pets Franklin’s head.

  “You be good for your father,” Piper says. “Do something fun together.”

  “Don’t worry about us.” Mick leans down and winks at Gabby. “We won’t get into that much trouble.”

  Gabby rolls her eyes, lifts her iPhone, and starts playing a game.

  “Have everything you need?” he asks.

  “I think so.”

  “Good luck.” He gives Piper a kiss and a big hug, then watches her walk into the terminal.

  Mick has Gabby back home at 7:00, and they decide to eat pizza and watch a movie. Gabby goes upstairs to change into her PJs as Mick orders the pizza. orders the pizza.

  “I say we watch Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince,” Gabby says, coming down the stairs. Mick walks into the living room, carrying a Blue Moon for him and a Coke for her.

  “But we’re still reading the book,” Mick says.

  “You’re still reading it. I finished a long time ago.”

  “Hey, that’s against the rules. When we read a book together, it means we read it together. You can read another book on your own.”

  “Sorry, Charlie,” she says.

  The pizza comes about halfway through the film, and father and daughter gobble their pie on the couch, taking turns tossing small pieces to Franklin, who climbs onto the couch beside them—something Piper would never allow.

  When the movie ends, Gabby persuades Mick to let her watch the next film in the series, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part I. Gabrielle makes it through part of the film, but finally surrenders to sleep around 11:00. Mick carries her to bed and tucks her under the covers. Piper would have insisted Gabby wake up and brush her teeth.

  “Happy birthday, sweetheart.” He leans over and kisses her on the forehead. Then he walks to the small bookcase across the room, selects The Deathly Hallows, and returns to the bed. He finds the chapter that more or less corresponds to the scene during which Gabrielle fell asleep and begins to read.

  He’s back downstairs in his study when Piper calls at 11:40 to tell him her connecting flight from Charlotte just landed. They talk for a bit, Piper reminding him that Franklin isn’t to climb on the furniture and soliciting his confirmation that Gabby brushed her teeth before she went to bed.

  They exchange good-nights and love-yous, and he hangs up.

  When the phone rings again, just after 1:30 a.m., it wrenches him from a sound sleep. He fumbles to find his cell phone on the nightstand, where it is charging.

  “Piper?” he says, his eyes still shut.

  “The war’s on. Get ready to leave. Your wife and daughter, too.”

  He recognizes the voice, but it takes him a moment to place it. When he does, he springs out of bed.

  Nunzio. Calling from prison.

  “Piper’s not here,” he says.

  A pause at the other end. Then, “Where is she?”

  He hesitates.

  “Look, I’m trying to save your ass here.”

  “What the—”

  “I have intelligence that Valiante’s planning a massive attack. Against my family. The word is that he might be going after my lawyers, too.”

  “You said we wouldn’t end up in the middle of it.”

  “It’s not as easy for me to deliver on my promises as it used to be, given where I am.”

  “Piper’s in Georgia, on a case. So’s my partner, Susan, and my brother, Tommy.”

  “And Coburn and h
is fiancée?”

  “They’re on vacation. Barcelona.”

  “They’ll be safe. All of them. This is a local thing Valiante’s planning.”

  “Then I’ll take Gabby to—”

  “You’ll go where my men take you. Get dressed and pack some bags. They’ll be there any minute.”

  The line goes dead. At the same time, Mick hears the front door open. He runs downstairs to find two large men in dark clothes entering the house.

  “What the hell?”

  The two intruders look at each other, then back at him.

  “Didn’t you get the call?” asks the larger of the two.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you,” Mick says.

  “Aw, jeez. You gonna make this hard?”

  The other man, slightly smaller and with more intelligence in his eyes, says, “The whole point of this is to protect you and your family. Get yourselves dressed, and let’s go. Please.”

  Mick thinks. If these two goons are determined to take him and Gabby, they’re going to do it. Fighting will only delay the inevitable. And he doesn’t want to do anything that will upset his daughter.

  “Give me a few minutes,” he says, then turns and goes back up the steps.

  Mick sits in the back seat of the Cadillac Escalade. Gabby is wrapped in a blanket, her head on his lap. He dressed her as gently as he could, to keep her from waking. She stirred a few times but remained asleep, even as he carried her to the car.

  Quietly, he leans forward and sees the driver looking back at him in the rearview mirror. “I need my cell phone,” he says. “I have to tell my wife what’s going on. And my brother and my law partner, too.”

  Nunzio’s thugs forced him to turn over the iPhone before they got in the car. The driver glances at the wiseguy in the passenger seat, who tells Mick to hold on a minute while he makes a call. He listens in as the guy explains to someone on the other end that Mick wants to make some calls. The goon hangs up.

  “You can make one call,” he says, reaching into his jacket pocket for Mick’s phone. He turns around and hands Mick the cell. “One call.”

  Mick dials. After a few rings, he hears Tommy’s sleepy voice ask who’s calling him.

  “Tommy. It’s me, Mick. Frank Valiante’s on the attack. Word is he’s going after everyone, maybe even us. Nunzio’s lawyers.”

  “Damn.”

  “Where are Piper and Susan?”

  “We’re all together. I picked up Piper and Susan at the airport last night, drove us all to Saint Simons Island, got us a suite with three bedrooms at Ocean Lodge. We just got here about half an hour ago. Susan and Piper are in bed.”

  “All right. Listen, Nunzio told me—”

  “Wait. He called you from jail? How—”

  “He’s Nunzio, that’s how. He told me he doesn’t think you guys are in danger because you’re a thousand miles away. I think he’s probably right, but I want you to be careful anyway. Tomorrow, tell Piper and Susan what’s happening.” He pauses. “Are you carrying?”

  “No. I flew down. I can probably get my hands on something, though. What about you? You don’t have a gun, do you?”

  “No, but I won’t need one. Nunzio’s rounding everyone up, taking us somewhere to wait this thing out.”

  “What? You mean they have you?”

  “Gabby and I are—”

  “They have Gabby?”

  “I’m not happy about it, either.”

  “Piper’s gonna blow a gasket. She’s going to want to fly back there as soon as I tell her.”

  “I know she will, and you have to stop her. Persuade her not to. I feel a lot better with the idea of you, rather than Nunzio’s goons, looking out for her and Susan.” The driver’s eyes are on him again, in the rearview. The guy riding shotgun is turned around. They didn’t like the “goons” thing.

  Too damned bad.

  “I don’t like this at all,” Tommy says. “Valiante’s guys tried to take out Johnny G. in broad daylight, and they killed two cops doing it. That tells me Valiante’s crazy for vengeance, and he doesn’t give a shit about collateral damage.”

  “I hear you. Get that piece and keep Susan and Piper close. Don’t let them out of your sight. And if you see anything that raises your hackles, hire a private security firm to look out for all of you.”

  They talk a few more minutes before the wiseguy in the passenger seat says, “That’s long enough,” and holds out his hand. Mick and Tommy wish each other luck; then Mick signs off and hands over the phone.

  “I didn’t appreciate the pejorative reference,” the driver says in a thick South Philly accent, surprising Mick with his vocabulary.

  Mick glares at the man, then looks down at Gabby, still asleep on his lap.

  What is he going to tell her tomorrow when she wakes up and asks where they are? Suddenly he’s filled with anger. His involvement with Nunzio has put his daughter in danger. He’d like nothing more than to rush to the jail and wring the mobster’s neck.

  What were you thinking, killing a man right in front of your daughter? And not just any man, but the man she loved. What kind of monster does that? And what kind of idiot are you that you’d kill the son of another underboss as connected and bloodthirsty as you?

  Something pulls him from his thoughts. He realizes it’s the guy in the front passenger seat, now turned fully around and looking down at Gabby.

  “What?” Mick asks.

  “I said, they’re all such angels when they’re asleep.”

  He stares at the guy, furious at him for talking about Gabby, even more furious at himself for having exposed her to someone like him. Gently, he pats Gabby’s head, pulls the blanket up over her shoulder.

  “Some of them are angels even when they’re awake,” Mick says.

  Angelo Valiante walks into the conference room and sits across the conference table from his father. It is almost 3:00 a.m., but he’s not the least bit tired. He’s too excited by the imminent destruction of Jimmy Nunzio’s crew.

  “I just got off the phone with our guys in Philly. Your guy was right,” he tells his father. “Nunzio’s taking all his people to the mountains. They picked up his brother and his family about an hour ago. This afternoon, he had a whole convoy of guns escort his bitch wife. Johnny G. was with them. A couple hours ago, they even picked up the lawyer.”

  “The lawyer,” his father repeats. “So he must be in on the planning. Which means he’s not just a lawyer—he’s Nunzio’s consigliere. And that makes him fair game. What about the daughter?”

  “No one knows where she is.”

  “She’ll be there. My man was certain of it.”

  “I heard she was out of the country.”

  “Probably bullshit. Nunzio trying to keep her hidden so the cops can’t question her about the warehouse.”

  Angelo looks down at the satellite photo of the resort. “I can’t believe he has no fencing around this place. No gate. Arrogant prick. Thinks he’s untouchable.”

  “I guess he never figured on having to use it for something like this,” his father says.

  Angelo thinks about this. “Did your guy tell you where Nunzio plans to attack us?”

  “He said Nunzio didn’t share that information with his contact at the company,” Frank says. “My guess is he plans to divide his forces. He’s got six trucks, so I’m thinking his plan is to send each to a different place, shoot it up, wipe out everyone there.”

  “You think he’s planning on coming here, to the office?”

  “Absolutely. The house, too. Some of our distribution centers, certainly. The places most important to us. The places where we have the most men. The places he thinks you and me will be at.”

  He feels his head start to burn. His heart pounds. “Well, too bad for him. Because the place I’ll be at is in the Poconos—on top of his daughter and his wife.”

  He sees his old man staring at him. He knows what he’s thinking.

  “Pop. Don’t worry. I’ve got it under
control.”

  But his father continues to stare.

  Mick watches through the windows as the Escalade progresses up I-476 North to 22 East, 33 North, 209 North, 402 North, and, finally, 590 toward Hawley, Pennsylvania. The drive lasts two and a half hours, and it’s close to 4:00 a.m. when they pull off Welcome Woods Road onto a tree-lined driveway. The driveway continues for a quarter mile, opening onto the grounds of a large resort. The main building is a two-story stone-and-log structure. A wide, circular driveway leads to the front steps. A porch runs the length of the building, its roof supported by thick log columns. A second-story balcony sits atop the porch’s roof.

  Other buildings—log cabins—are positioned along the periphery of the clearing, backed by the thick forest that surrounds the grounds. A parking lot sits well away from the lodge. It is empty save for a few cars and, oddly, Mick thinks, six white Ford vans.

  The Escalade comes to a stop in front of the porch steps, and the wiseguys get out of the front. The one from the passenger seat opens Mick’s door, and Mick gently scoops up the still-sleeping Gabby.

  Mick pauses to take in the scene. Large men in dark clothing stand guard or patrol the grounds, their flashlight beams cutting the darkness as they speak in hushed voices. In the middle of the lawn, three men are huddled around a giant figure—Johnny Giacobetti. Sitting nearby are two dogs Mick recognizes as English mastiffs. Overhead, thick white clouds race beneath a full moon. The chilly air is thick with menace. The whole thing has a surreal feeling.

  “Mr. McFarland.” A woman’s voice.

  He looks to the top of the steps and sees Rachel Nunzio. Curvaceously statuesque, with thick black hair over dark eyes. As stunning as he remembers her.

  She smiles. “Welcome to our little retreat.”

  He doesn’t smile back.

  “Is that what you’re calling this?” he asks once he reaches the porch, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb Gabrielle.

  Unperturbed, Rachel smiles again. “She’s adorable,” she says, glancing down at Gabby. “We’ll do our best to make this fun for her.”