She went to the car, got inside, started the engine, and didn’t have another thought until she found herself downtown, parking around the corner from her building, with a view of its entrance. People with umbrellas hurried this way and that on the sidewalk, flowing around the private security guards, still on duty. She didn’t know when they got off, but it didn’t matter. She would follow Alice anywhere she went and take her when they were alone.
She turned off the ignition, looked up at her office window, and caught a glimpse of Alice, moving around her office. It made her want to scream, which must mean that the chill pill was wearing off. She didn’t know exactly what it was, but she was beginning to see why it sold so well. She dug in her purse, pulled out another pill, and popped it into her mouth. She didn’t want to feel angry. She didn’t want to feel anything at all.
Sooner or later, she would get Alice alone.
And it would all be over.
Chapter Eighty-one
Alice grabbed her coat and the messenger bag, hurried down the hall to Judy’s office, and stuck her head inside. “Carrier, ready to go?”
“Yep. Did Mary and Grady leave? I got caught on the phone.”
“Yes, let’s go.”
Judy glanced out of her office window, where sheets of rain streaked the glass. “Should we wait for the storm to let up?”
“We can’t.” Alice picked up Judy’s striped umbrella. “Here.”
“Okay, great.” Judy got up, grabbed her kilim purse, and came around the desk. “We’re meeting the client there, right?”
“Yes. Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“It’s called Roux. Been there?”
“No, but I’ve heard it’s cool, trying to gentrify the neighborhood down by the waterfront, right?”
“Right.”
“I’m in favor.”
“Good.” Alice led her down the hall to reception, where Marshall was working. “You still at it, girl?”
“I still have a few things left, with all the distractions today.”
“Thanks, but go home.”
“I will, soon.”
“We’re out of here.” Alice went ahead to the elevator and pressed the button. Outside, the sky had gone dark with the storm, and cars clogged the street. She flagged down one of the Rothman guards.
“How you doin’, Ms. Rosato?” he asked, raising his voice to be heard over the downpour.
“Did you hear if they caught Alice?”
“No, I’ll keep you posted. By the way, Bob’s fine.”
Alice frowned. “Who’s Bob?”
“One of our guys, the guard your sister punched.”
Whatever. “Good. We’re going out, meeting new clients.”
“You want protection? I can spare a man.”
“No, thanks, it wouldn’t look right. I’m reasonably safe, now that the cops are looking for Alice.”
“So when should we leave here? Our contract says ten o’clock.”
“Perfect. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” The guard’s eyes shifted to the street. “Hold on, I see a cab.” He waved it down, and when it stopped, Alice opened the door and told the cabbie the address.
They lurched into stop-and-go traffic, and Judy turned to her. “I went online and researched the biotech industry in Ireland, for some background info. I learned a lot.”
“Good for you.”
“I couldn’t research this client, because you didn’t get back to me with its name.”
“I was busy, sorry.” Alice made up a name. “It is Genlynn Enterprises.”
“Gotcha.” Judy went into her purse and pulled out an iPhone. “I can look it up right now, online.”
“No, don’t.” Alice stopped her hand. “Let them tell us. Clients love to talk about their business, and we don’t want to sound like we studied.”
“Oh.” Judy blinked. “Even if we did?”
“Right. Why don’t you tell me what you found out, generally, to give us some context?”
“Sure, well, it’s really interesting. Wyeth is the big dog in Dublin, in biotech, and they have a campus south of the city . . .”
Judy lectured on, and Alice zoned out as the cab headed east toward the Delaware River. They reached Columbus Boulevard and turned right, passing the well-lit big-box dance clubs and party-of-twelve tourist restaurants. They took the curve, leaving the lights and excitement behind, and steered toward the more deserted section of the Boulevard. The Walt Whitman Bridge loomed ahead, and on the right, train cars that read HAPAG-LLOYD AND HAMBURG SUD stood on rusted tracks.
Alice looked for the restaurant on the left, on the riverbank. They passed old-time municipal piers, then a huge ship with a peeling black hull and three red smokestacks, like a busted Titanic. She spotted Roux dead ahead and scanned the surrounding area. Next to it was some kind of abandoned distribution center, with a rubble-strewn parking lot, empty except for a few tractor trailers without the truck cabs. It was a dark, lonely stretch, with ancient RESTRICTED AREA signs hanging on saggy concertina wire.
Alice felt satisfied. There would be plenty of places to leave a body, so that it wouldn’t be discovered until morning.
“How’d I do?” Judy asked, when the lecture was over.
“Perfect.” Alice smiled. “Just perfect.”
Chapter Eighty-two
Mary hurried inside her parents’ house, left Grady in their living room, and made a beeline for the kitchen, which looked different from ever before. There was no food on the table, and nothing bubbled on the stovetop. Tony Bennett was silent, and there wasn’t even the sound of coffee percolating. The room was empty except for her mother, who sat slumped in her chair, her hand in her chin, her body a forlorn pile of flesh and spandex.
“Maria,” she said, her voice choked and quivery, and Mary rushed over, sat beside her, and hugged her tight, breathing in her faded perfume.
“It’s gonna be all right, Ma.”
“No, no.” Her mother looked over, her gaze red-rimmed behind her bifocals and her rookie mascara making dark quarter-moons under her eyes. “Fiorella come, and everyting go bad.”
“Ma, it can’t be. You and Pop love each other.”
“No, Maria. He no love me no more.” Emotion mottled her papery skin, and red tinged the tip of her nose. “He cheat!”
“How, Ma? What happened?”
“Your father, he kiss her, inna restaurant!” Her mother’s eyes brimmed with tears, but Mary couldn’t believe it was true.
“That’s impossible, Ma.”
“No, e vero.”
“How do you know?”
“Johnny, he works inna museum, he’s a grandson from the TV man down a block.” Her mother pressed a balled-up Kleenex to her nose. “Johnny, he call the TV man onna phone, and the TV man tell Camarr Millie, and she tell Camarr Franny, and she call me.”
Mary felt mortified for her. “What restaurant? What museum?”
“Non lo so, I dunno. He take Fiorella, inna city. Art museum. She want to go. Anywhere she want, he take her, alla time.”
“Kissed her?” Mary still couldn’t believe it. “It’s just a rumor, gossip. Pop would never kiss another woman, never.”
“No, no.” Her mother squeezed her hands together, squashing the Kleenex, and Mary hugged her closer.
“Ma, I’m sure there’s an explanation. Pop loves you. You have the best marriage ever. Everybody knows that.”
“No more, no more. Ever since operaysh . . .” Her mother’s voice trailed off, and Mary knew what she meant. Her “operaysh” was her operation. Her hysterectomy.
“Where is he?”
“Non lo so. He’s a suppose to come home for dinn’. He no come, he no call.”
Suddenly there was a commotion in the living room, and Mary heard the screen door slam closed, then her father talking to Grady.
She and her mother looked toward the living room.
Chapter Eighty-three
Bennie f
ound a parking space down the street from Roux, having followed Alice and Carrier here from the office. Their cab was still idling, and the valet waited at its back door to meet them with a golf umbrella. They were evidently going to dinner together, and she would wait until they had finished and Alice was alone. The red Toyota sat behind a boxy white truck, so it couldn’t be seen from the restaurant.
She cut the ignition, freezing the wipers in place. The engine shuddered, and the defrost wheezed into silence. Raindrops ran in rivulets down the windshield, but if she shifted to the left, she had a view of Roux’s entrance, its blue awning flapping in the storm.
She looked around. She’d never eaten at Roux because she didn’t like the neighborhood, which was too industrial, even cheesy. A strip club sat across the street, flashing a sign that read BACHELOR, BACHELORETTE, AND DIVORCE PARTIES! Busted cyclone fencing failed to cordon off empty lots, and the municipal piers were no longer in use, had gone to seed.
She thought ahead. It wouldn’t be long until dinner was over, and it would be darker by then. The storm showed no sign of letting up. There wouldn’t be anybody out on the sidewalk, or anywhere nearby, and in between the Toyota and the restaurant was the back of a distribution center, with a loading dock shaped like a hub. It looked abandoned, too, with only a few tractor trailers rusting in place. There were no streetlights at all.
She listened to the thrumming of the rain and rubbed her eyes. She was so calm, she knew it was the drug. It didn’t feel as if she were going to kill Alice. It felt as if she were performing a series of tasks that would result in Alice’s death. The deed would ruin her, but she wasn’t thinking about that now. She couldn’t go back to her old life, anyway. A snake couldn’t wriggle back into its skin. A cicada couldn’t crawl back into its husk.
She wasn’t Bennie Rosato anymore. She’d passed the point of no return.
She pulled out the gun.
And set it on her lap, waiting.
Chapter Eighty-four
Alice climbed out of the cab, hoisted the messenger bag on her shoulder, and stepped onto the slick asphalt, ducking under the umbrella offered by the valet. Rain thundered on its nylon and sprayed underneath. She turned to Judy, as if she’d forgotten something. “Damn, I left my cell phone at the office, and I need to call Grady.”
“You can borrow mine.” Judy stepped under the umbrella, then reached in her bag, produced her iPhone, and handed it over. “Here.”
“Thanks.” Alice pressed in her office number as the valet escorted them to the restaurant, but right before they reached the curb, she let the iPhone drop into the filthy water flowing in the gutter. “Oh no!”
“My phone!” Judy scrambled to pick up her phone, but it came up dripping wet, its end cracked and screen gone black.
“I’m so sorry, I’ll get you a new one.” Alice let the valet usher them inside Roux, then left Judy behind to struggle with her phone, in vain. The restaurant had a French country vibe, and candles glowed against golden walls. The place was half empty, either from the weather or the vacation week, and Alice found the maitre d’ while Judy joined her.
“It’s dead,” she said, with a frown.
Bad choice of words.
They were seated at a table not far from the door, and half an hour later, Alice was craning her neck, pretending to check the entrance for the Irish biotech client. Then she eased back into her chair, shaking her head. “Not here yet,” she said. “The weather must have held them up.”
“Probably.” Judy checked her watch. “It’s been a half an hour.”
“That’s annoying, and we rushed down here for nothing. Make a note, and we’ll charge them.”
Judy frowned. “You’re sure it was tonight, right?”
“Positive. They called today.”
“Too bad we don’t have a cell.”
“We’re snakebit.” Alice picked up the menu. “I’m hungry. Are you?”
“Yes, but should we call them? I’m sure there’s a pay phone, or we can use the restaurant’s phone.”
“I don’t have the number, and I wouldn’t want to do that, anyway. Why make them feel bad about being late?”
“What about calling the office to see if they called?”
“Nobody’s there to answer. Marshall’s gone by now. If they want to reach us, they’re smart enough to call the restaurant.” Alice opened the menu. “Let’s get a bunch of appetizers while we wait.”
They ordered food, the waiter brought it, and Alice had lobster bisque while Judy tucked into a goat-cheese-and-beet salad. They made small talk, with Judy doing most of the talking. If the associate still harbored any suspicions, the wine seemed to smooth them over. They finished the appetizers, and Alice signaled for the check. “I gather they’re not coming,” she said, pretending to be miffed. “Let’s skip dinner and go. I’ve got work to do, at home.”
“Shouldn’t we wait longer?”
“No. Something must have gone wrong.”
“Do you want to ask the waiter if they called, again?”
“I will, but I’m sure he would have said something.” Alice reached for her wallet. “Grady will be happy I got home earlier than I thought.”
“Good.” Judy rose, taking her napkin from her lap. “I should use the bathroom.”
“Me, too.” Alice got up with her. She wasn’t about to let the girl out of her sight.
Not when she only had fifteen minutes to live.
Chapter Eighty-five
Mary looked up as her father appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, the shoulders of his windbreaker dappled with raindrops. She felt her heart break for her mother, because she could tell from his face that the rumor was true. His forehead creased with guilt, and his pained eyes focused completely on his wife.
“Veet?” he said, too upset to talk loud, for once.
Mary looked back at her mother, so stiff and small, her head tilted down as if her neck had frozen in place. She was staring at the wet ball of Kleenex clutched in her hands, saying nothing. Her silence had a depth of its own, and Mary had never seen her so still. It reminded her of an Italian proverb her mother always quoted, Dolori sono muti. Great griefs are mute.
Mary rose, turning to her father. “Pop, can this really be true? What were you thinking?”
Her father’s lips parted, and his gaze remained on her mother. “Veet, what you heard, I’m so, so sorry. It didn’t mean anything.”
Her mother didn’t look up, still silent, and Mary went to lawyer mode.
“Pop, what did you do? You were kissing Fiorella?”
Her father raised a finger, hushing her, and he took a step toward her mother. “Veet, I did not kiss her. We were eatin’ and talkin’ and all of a sudden, she leaned over the table and kissed me, on the cheek. But it was wrong, I know that, and I kind of came to my senses, and I said it was time for her to go back to Italy. She’s goin’ back tonight.”
Mary said nothing, and her mother remained frozen.
“I’m so sorry, Veet. It’s like, I don’ know, somethin’ came over me.” Her father threw up his hands, and they fell back to his sides with a flapping sound. “She made me feel all handsome and strong. It’s like a los’ my head for a while, but now I’m back and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Mary’s throat caught, and her father looked over at her.
“Mare, you were right. I was flirtin’ back. It’s wrong and it’s disrespectful of your mother and it’s a sin, and I’m sorry to you, too.”
Mary felt his words touch her heart, but his wrong was ultimately against her mother, and only she could absolve him. “Pop, where is Fiorella now?”
“That’s a whole ’nother story.” Her father sighed, shaking his head. “After this happened, I said we should come home so she could pack, and we were on our way to the car and all of a sudden she said she got a bad feeling, like something bad was happening to Bennie.”
“Bennie, my Bennie?” Mary asked, surprised, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw
her mother raise her head.
“Yes, and she wouldn’t stop worrying about her, so I went to a pay phone and called your office to ask you if Bennie was okay, and Marshall said Bennie and Judy went out to dinner and you went home, so I came here.”
“Where’s Fiorella now?”
“She’s gone. Before I could stop her, she gets a cab and jumps in. I think she went to the restaurant.”
“What restaurant?”
“It was named Kangaroo, or something like that.”
“Roux?”
“I think that’s the one. Marshall heard Bennie tell Judy where they were goin’.”
“Pop, no!” Mary’s head exploded. “Bennie and Judy are meeting new clients there. Fiorella will ruin it!”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” her father said, and her mother moaned.
“I have to warn Bennie.” Mary slid out her BlackBerry, speed-dialed Bennie, and let it ring, but there was no answer. She speed-dialed Judy, but it went to voicemail. “Maybe we can still catch Fiorella. South Philly’s closer to the restaurant than the Art Museum.”
“Andiamo!” her mother said, already on her orthopedic shoes.
Mary hurried them from the kitchen, grabbed Grady on the fly, and went to rescue Bennie.
Chapter Eighty-six
Bennie glanced at the dashboard clock, glowing in the dark. It had been over an hour, and they had to be finished with dinner soon. The sidewalk was deserted in the downpour. The storm blew full force, the rain driving on a slant, bouncing off the sidewalks, washing down the gutters and thundering on the hood of her car.
She held the gun while she watched the entrance, planning her next step. Alice and Carrier would come out. They would either share a cab or not. If they shared a cab, she would follow it until it ended up at her own house, with Alice. If they didn’t share a cab, she would follow until Alice got out, probably at her house. And then it would be done.
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