Courting Trouble

by Lisa Scottoline

  30

  At the interview room of the Roundhouse, fluorescent lights on the ceiling cast harsh shadows that hollowed out the faces of those assembled. Having given her statement, Anne sat numbly in a bare side chair, her white dress puckering with drying blood in gruesome polka dots. Her back stung where she had taken five stitches over the knife wound, but she’d been so disoriented at the hospital that she hadn’t even washed her hands. They lay apart in her lap, bloodstained and recoiling from each other.

  She was relieved that her nightmare with Kevin was finally over, but she couldn’t help wishing it hadn’t ended with such an awful death. Her shoulder slumped with exhaustion; she felt drained and spent. Her head hurt so much she couldn’t begin to parse her complex knot of emotions. She knew she’d be doing that for the next few days, if not years.

  Judy and Mary stood behind Anne’s chair like a hastily dressed girl army, their faces drawn and saddened even by a war won. A bruised Matt hovered near Anne, with an arm on her shoulder, as they all listened to Gil finish giving his statement to a grave Detective Rafferty. The heavyset Detective Hunt-and-Peck did the typing, and everyone pretended that Deputy Commissioner Parker, who leaned against the wall in a crisp uniform with his dark arms folded, always attended such occasions.

  “I saw that he had Anne,” Gil was saying, seated in the steel chair bolted to the floor. “He had his hand in her back. I thought he might have a gun, or a knife.” Bennie stood behind him, her head cocked as she listened. She was representing Gil in the investigation, since Anne wasn’t permitted to, as a witness to the shooting.

  SAW THAT HE, typed the detective, and Detective Rafferty leaned forward, his elbows resting on his legs. He was still dressed in a suit, but his tie was loose and the knot hung off-center. “And you knew it was Satorno, how?”

  “We went over this,” Gil said, tired. His seersucker sports jacket had been torn, the lapels stained by Kevin’s blood. Anne was fairly sure that the police wouldn’t charge Gil with anything, even involuntary manslaughter, not with Bennie on defense. But it wasn’t a certainty. Anne didn’t want to see Gil indicted for saving his own life, and hers.

  Bennie tapped her client’s shoulder. “You should probably repeat your answer.”

  “Okay, I’ll say it again. I knew it was Satorno because I’d seen his photo on the TV and in the newspapers.”

  “You remembered the way he looked from the mug shot?”

  “Of course. I took an interest. He tried to kill my lawyer, my friend. When they ran his photo, I checked his features. I did the same thing with the Unabomber, didn’t you?”

  “I see.” Rafferty rubbed his chin, grizzled now. “And how is it that you happened to be there at the time, Mr. Martin?”

  “Be where?”

  “At the hoagie tent.”

  “Well, I was at a bar farther down the Parkway. East, I should say. Chase’s Taverna, okay? Celebrating the holiday.”

  “You were alone?”

  “Yes,” Gil replied. “My family was at home.”

  Anne noted that he wasn’t volunteering any background about Jamie throwing him out, but that wasn’t police business anyway.

  “Talk to anybody at the bar who’d remember you, Mr. Martin?”

  “Not really. A blonde drinking Cosmopolitans, but I don’t know her name.”

  “Try to pick her up?”

  “Does it matter?” Gil shot back, drawing a disapproving look from Bennie.

  “Maybe,” Rafferty answered.

  “Okay, yes. I tried to pick her up.” Gil offered his wrists. “Cuff me.”

  Off to the side, Anne was starting to wonder about Gil. Picking up a blonde right after Jamie threw him out? Trying to hit on Anne? The affair with Beth? At some point, she’d advise Gil to get some counseling, but that would be after Chipster.

  “How about the bartender?” Rafferty was asking.

  “I didn’t try to pick her up.”

  Rafferty didn’t laugh. “I didn’t know she was a woman. I meant, would the bartender remember you?”

  “Yes. Her name’s Jill. Jill and Gil, that’s how I remember. Yeah, we talked. She would remember. We laughed about the name thing.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “Then I saw Anne on the TV over the bar, and she said where she’d be, at the hoagie tent around nine o’clock. So I went there. When I got there it was so crowded, I knew it was too crazy to even bother, so I left. When I was heading back to Center City, I just happened to see her. Her dress was white and it caught my eye. Then I saw what was going on.”

  JILL AND GILL, typed the heavyset detective, and Rafferty gave a sigh that had a final ring to it, then glanced at Bennie. “Ms. Rosato, of course I’ll have to discuss it with my superiors, but I doubt that we’ll be charging Mr. Martin with any crime.”

  “That’s the right result, Detective,” Bennie said. If she’d been worried, it didn’t show. She put a hand on Gil’s chair. “Mr. Martin understands the dangers of ordinary citizens trying to save lives, however well-intentioned their efforts may be. He won’t be doing it again.” Bennie acknowledged Deputy Commissioner Parker. “Sir, again, you’ve handled this matter with professionalism and sensitivity, and we’ll be happy to appear at the press conference tomorrow.”

  “Thanks. You’ll be escorted past the feeding frenzy outside. My driver and the commissioner’s driver will take you all home. The conference is at ten o’clock tomorrow morning, here. The inspector will be back by then.”

  “I’ll be there.” Bennie glanced toward Anne. “Ms. Murphy can’t be, she has a court date.”

  “I know, I read the newspapers,” the deputy commissioner said, with a sympathetic grin at Anne. “Ms. Murphy, if you need a doctor’s note for that judge, you got one from me.”

  “Thanks.” Anne managed a smile and rose from her chair on surprisingly wobbly knees, and Detective Rafferty met her eye.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something, Ms. Murphy?” he asked, and after a second, Anne realized what he meant. He was holding his hand out, palm up. “It’s not as if you have a carry permit.”

  “Oops.” Anne reached into her pocket, pulled out the Beretta, and surrendered it to the detective. She guessed she wouldn’t be needing it anymore, but she felt funny without it.

  Rafferty raised an eyebrow. “When did girls start carrying Berettas in their dresses?”

  “When they leave their purses at home,” Anne said, which coaxed the first smile she’d seen from the detective. “Does this mean no weapons charges? You’re cutting me a break?”

  “Only ’cause you’re Irish,” Rafferty answered, smiling.

  Matt took her arm gently. “Let’s get outta here,” he said, and Anne let him guide her to the door with the others, breathing a sigh of relief.

  It was finally over. All of it. She’d never have to worry again, never have to look over her shoulder. She didn’t need her gun. Kevin was gone, really gone. She felt shaken, but finally safe.

  Downstairs in the lobby of the Roundhouse, surrounded by wood-paneled walls and glass cases displaying old squad cars, they all milled around before sorting themselves for departure. Anne went first to Gil, giving him a hug. “I don’t know how to thank you for saving my life,” she said, surprised to find Gil get a little misty, too.

  “Don’t think anything of it.” His cockiness had vanished, replaced with a genuinely happy smile. “I’m just lucky I was there.”

  “No, I am.” Anne reached next to him for Bennie, hugging her like the mother she never had. “Thank you so much for everything,” she said, and Bennie hugged her back.

  “I’m glad you’re safe.”

  “Sorry I ran away from you.”

  “Don’t remind me.” Bennie cocked an eyebrow in mock-offense. “And don’t tell anybody I fell for that look-over-there crap.”

  Anne laughed, and Judy and Mary filled in, with Mary throwing open her arms to hug Anne. “The love continues,” Mary said, giving Anne a big squeeze. “I
’m so happy for you, and so happy you’re okay.”

  “Give your parents my regards,” Anne said. “And I’m there for dinner next Sunday, to return my evil-eye necklace in person.”

  “Done!” Mary said, hugging her again. “Hold it hostage until they return the cat.”

  Anne laughed, about to wipe wetness from her eyes when Judy swept her up in a death-defying hug, then backed off.

  “Still got your earrings, I see.” Judy grinned, pleased.

  “Of course I do. I love them.” Anne felt overwhelmed that she’d found such good friends in Mary, Bennie, and even Judy, but she was feeling much too emotional to say so. That would be something else she’d have to attend to, in the very near future.

  Matt looped a proprietary arm around Anne, with a smile. “Thanks, Bennie. All of you. For taking such good care of her.”

  But Gil, at the edge of the hugging, was looking from Anne to Matt and back again. Anne caught his hard eye, with a start. She had forgotten. Gil didn’t know about her and Matt. Oh no. She felt terrible, especially now, after what he’d done. She faced her client. “I’m sorry, Gil. You didn’t know this, but I’ve begun seeing Matt.”

  “No, I didn’t know.” Gil’s mouth was tight.

  “I swear to you, I haven’t let it interfere with the case.” Anne felt her cheeks flame with embarrassment. She could feel Bennie’s eyes upon her, with little sympathy. She had to make a choice on the spot. She thought of Matt’s choice, made the same day. “I am sorry. If you want to hire another lawyer, you can. We can get a continuance, and given the events of tonight, it wouldn’t look strange to your Board.”

  Matt cleared his throat. “Gil, for the record, Anne didn’t compromise her representation of your company in any way.”

  Gil ignored him, but found a smile for Anne. “Anne, I wouldn’t fire you now, not after what you’ve been through for this case, and I know you won’t let your personal relationship affect you. This is business, and you’re still my lawyer.”

  “Thanks, I won’t let you down,” Anne said, taking a deep breath. She wondered if Gil’s decision was based on what he’d told her about the CD, and she couldn’t begin to focus on what would happen at the trial tomorrow, not with blood drying on her hands. It was time to start over. She found herself feeling an urge she hadn’t felt in a long time. “I want to go home,” she heard herself say.

  “But it’s a crime scene,” Mary said. “Come with me. My parents would love to have you again, and Anna’s cat is there. You can even stay there until you find a new place.”

  Bennie blinked. “Or come over my house. Keep the cat at Mary’s. I’ll make you cereal.”

  Judy laughed. “Mine’s the only place you haven’t stayed. Don’t you want a change of pace?”

  Matt squeezed her close. “Anne, come back with me, to my house. You don’t want to be at your place, not after what happened there.”

  Anne looked at Matt and the others, ringed around her, their expressions reflecting concern and love. Her future was beginning, and they would all be a part of it. But as grateful as she was, she knew where she really belonged.

  “Thanks but I want to go home. To my house, on Waltin Street.”

  And her words matched her thoughts exactly, for once.

  31

  It wasn’t an hour later, delivered by a speeding squad car, that Anne was home, dressed in jeans, a pink tank top, and yellow Playtex gloves, yanking the stained wall-to-wall carpet from her front-entrance hall. She should have been sleeping or preparing her opening argument, but she couldn’t do either. The rug reeked of blood and pain, and she wanted it out. She had already gotten up three sides, with only the last remaining, the front right corner. She gritted her teeth, closed her eyes, and tugged harder, and the rug surrendered suddenly, sending her backward onto her butt.

  “Argh!” she grunted from the floor. Her shoulder, back stitches, and butt hurt, but she got to her feet, dragged the rug into the living room, and flattened it. She tried not to look at the bloodstains, so she wouldn’t start crying again. She had cried in the shower when she first came home, then she had steeled herself and gotten to work.

  She dropped to her knees and rolled up the rug, then snapped open a Hefty bag from the orange box on the coffee table and stuffed the rug inside. She picked it up and was about to take it outside to leave it at the curb for pickup, but she stopped herself. It wouldn’t be respectful. It wasn’t trash. It had Willa’s blood on it. It felt substantial in Anne’s arms, like a human body. Without knowing exactly why, she set the bagged rug down on the floor.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat, stood with her hands on her hips, and surveyed the entrance hall, now illuminated by the fixture above. Bloody streaks had dried a cakey brown on the wall and the entrance-hall door. The baseboards were stained, and thin wood slats bordered the floor where the rug had been stapled down, but there were no stains on the hard wood. Plan B was to wash and paint the walls in the hall. She couldn’t leave them this way, not even one night. Cleaning the entrance room would be gruesome and awful, but it had to be done. For Willa. And it was cathartic, already making her feel better, bringing to an end this awful part of her life. Anne got her second wind and suspected it was heaven-sent.

  She went to the kitchen and took off a Playtex glove long enough to grab a handful of Captain Crunch, while she filled up the blue Rubbermaid bucket in the sink with a brew of Lysol, Pine-Sol, Comet, and hot water. Fizzy suds formed quickly as the water rose, floating the thick pink sponge, and she turned off the tap, grabbed the bucket, and returned to the living room, flicking on the stereo on the way, a classical station. It would suit her mood and her task.

  A lone Spanish guitar came on, playing acoustic. Anne’s thoughts went to her father, the guitar player she’d never met, then to her mother. She wondered idly when she’d see her again, if she’d see her again, but suppressed the tiny tug in her chest. The TV appeal had given her pause, but her past was over. She had to go forward with the rest of her life. It was time to start over starting over. She sloshed to the entrance hall with the heavy bucket.

  She put the bucket down and let the guitar music soothe her as she got down on her knees and reached for the steaming sponge. When she bent over, the little Italian charm popped out from her tank top, swinging on Mrs. DiNunzio’s gold chain, and she tucked the necklace away with a smile and started cleaning the wall. The dried blood turned briefly red again when it made contact with the hot sponge, bringing up that carnal smell. Her stomach turned over, but she kept at it, washing streak after streak, thinking of Willa, and blinking away the tears that inevitably came. Anne had gone through three full buckets of sudsy water, a bottle of Lysol, and several Kleenexes when the doorbell rang.

  Anne stopped, startled still. Her heart fluttered in her chest. The last time that bell had rung, a killer had been at the door. The ringing echoed through the apartment, quiet except for the guitar playing. She told herself she was being silly. There was nothing to be afraid of, anymore. Kevin was dead; she had seen him killed with her own eyes, and the sight, though it had brought her no satisfaction, at least brought her safety. Right?

  The doorbell rang again, and Anne dropped the sponge into the water and stood up to look in the peephole. It was Matt! Everything was all right. She really was safe.

  She undid the chain lock in a hurry and opened the door onto the warm summer night. Matt was standing on the stoop wearing a black Dave Matthews T-shirt, jeans, and a smile, and holding his briefcase flat, like a tray. On it, he balanced a bottle of merlot and two wineglasses. Anne couldn’t help but feel happy to see him. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “I couldn’t sleep and I knew you wouldn’t be. You said you were starting over, so I brought you a housewarming present.” Matt plucked the wine bottle off the briefcase tray and gave Anne a quick peck on the lips, then followed it up with a warm, deeper kiss she didn’t resist, even though her gloves were dripping suds.

  “Wow. Come on
in,” she said and closed the door behind him as he crossed the threshold and tiptoed over the wet floorboards in wonderment.

  “Are you cleaning?” He winced only slightly when he smiled, since the residual swelling from his goose egg had subsided.

  “Yep. I just finished washing.” Anne appraised her handiwork, but couldn’t deny the darkness that still stained the white wall in many places. “With two coats of white paint, it’ll be back to normal.”

  “Sure it will.” Matt set the wineglasses on the floor just outside the entrance hall, then slid a corkscrew from his back pocket and sat down on the floor. “I can’t believe you’re doing this yourself. You could have hired a service or something. I thought you’d be getting ready for trial, planning how you’re going to kick ass.”

  “Nah, this is more important.” Anne stripped off her wet gloves and draped them over the side of the bucket.

  “What? What happened to the girl who would do anything to win, including hire a stripper?” Matt laughed as he unwrapped the metal seal from the top of the merlot, then inserted the corkscrew and extracted the cork with a festive pock. “Don’t tell me you’ve changed.”

  Anne thought a minute. “Hell, no!”

  “Praise be.” Matt grinned and handed her an empty wine- glass. He poured them both some merlot, then set down the bottle and raised his glass in a toast. “To you, and to your not changing. Ever.”

  Anne raised her glass. “And to you—”

  Brrng. Brrng. It was the unmistakable ringing of a cell phone, and they both reflexively went to their holsters, but Anne had left her cell in her purse in the living room. Matt unholstered his phone. “Rats,” he said. “Just when you were going to tell me how great I am.”

  “You’d do it better,” she said, as he flipped open the cell phone and answered it. She watched his blue eyes light up.

  “Oh, really? Okay. Relax. I understand, we’ll discuss it. I’ll be right over,” he said, then snapped the phone closed excitedly. “That was Bill Dietz.”