Betrayed: A Rosato & DiNunzio Novel (Rosato & Associates Book 13)

by Lisa Scottoline

  “Yes, there was no new fracture, but the doctor had to reset the bone, so it would heal properly. We gave him another cast.”

  Judy wanted to give him a new cast, right in the face. “So playing basketball caused the bone to shift?”

  “Yes, and the soft tissue in his wrist swelled during the night. He narrowly avoided another surgery.”

  “So does that mean the healing process has to start over from the beginning? Are we talking eight to twelve weeks?”

  “Yes, and I explained to him that he has to be patient. He can engage in only limited activity. I know that won’t be easy for him, seeing as how he makes his living with his hands.”

  Judy couldn’t suppress her eye-roll. “Or maybe people who make a living with their hands shouldn’t play so much basketball. Do you think concert pianists shoot a lot of hoops?”

  “Ha!” The nurse laughed lightly. “Everybody needs to have fun.”

  “Do they? I’m a lawyer. I don’t believe in fun.”

  “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Judy shot back, then realized it sounded harsher than she felt. Or maybe it was exactly how she felt and she didn’t know how harshly she felt until this very moment. But the nurses were exchanging significant glances again.

  “I’ll be right in with his prescription and discharge papers.”

  “Thanks.” Judy turned away, her chest tight. She walked down the gleaming hall until she found the right examining room, pushed aside the privacy curtain, and went in.

  “Babe?” Frank grinned in a loopy way, lying fully clothed on the bed, his eyes at a druggy half-mast. His left arm was back in its familiar blue cotton sling, and a fresh blue nylon cast covered his wrist to the knuckles. His skin was uncharacteristically pale, his hair disheveled, and his gray logo fleece and jeans looked rumpled enough to have come from the hamper, which they probably did. Judy felt herself softening and went to him.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I feel great, I feel awesome! I love you!” Frank hugged her close, then threw up his arms like he’d scored a touchdown, or maybe a three-pointer. “Life is good!”

  “Good.” Judy gave him a grudging kiss on his grizzly cheek. His breath smelled like onions, but luckily, she loved onions.

  “Thanks for coming to get me!”

  “No problem, thanks for playing basketball.” Judy couldn’t help her sarcasm. She’d had to race back to Aunt Barb’s house and drop her off, leaving her aunt to face Iris’s death, Daniella’s disappearance, and her impending mastectomy, with only Judy’s mom for company. The entire weekend had been cut short because Judy wouldn’t have time to go back to Kennett Square tonight and still be at work tomorrow morning.

  “Uh-oh. Are you pissed at me?” Frank pouted comically, his reaction exaggerated by pharmaceuticals.

  “Let’s go home, Frank.” Judy retrieved his puffy black jacket from the chair. “Sit up please, and I’ll help you on with your coat.”

  “Don’t be mad. I didn’t do it on purpose.” Frank sat up groggily, and Judy held his shoulder to support him.

  “Of course you didn’t. Nobody hurts himself on purpose.”

  “Right! Then why are you pissed?”

  Judy picked up his right hand and began stuffing it in the sleeve of his coat. “You decided to play basketball with an already-injured hand, so it was completely foreseeable that you’d hurt yourself.”

  “Wow, you sounded like such a lawyer just then!” Frank broke into a grin. “It’s because you said ‘foreseeable.’ Lawyers say that. Also Judge Judy.”

  Judy draped the coat over his bad arm, thinking that it didn’t seem right that Frank kept doing dumb things and sticking her with a mess. Maybe that’s what was bothering her, the very injustice of their relationship. She turned when she heard a noise behind her, and the nurse entered the room, carrying a few sheets of paper.

  “Here are your discharge papers, Frank.”

  “Hi, Melissa!” Frank stood up, then listed to the left. “Whoa. My stomach feels funny.”

  “That’s the Percs.” The nurse smiled at him, her eyes soft with sympathy. “Can you sign these for me?”

  “Uh, sure, Melissa. Then again, maybe not.” Frank sank down into the bed, and Judy took the pen and papers from the nurse’s hand.

  “I’ll sign. Drunky McDrunkerson is losing his sea legs.” Judy scribbled Frank’s name, handed back the pen and papers, and managed to get them both out of the ER and through the hospital exit doors onto a busy Seventh Street, where she took Frank’s arm. “You feel well enough to walk? I’m parked in the garage.”

  “Totally,” Frank answered, though he leaned heavily on her arm as they waited for traffic to let up, then crossed the street. The morning sun had vanished, and gray clouds gathered in the sky. The city air smelled gritty and damp, after the freshness of the countryside.

  “So you drove here?”

  “Yeah, my truck’s in the garage. So we’ll have to come back for it tomorrow morning. I need it for work. I have to go out to Jersey to bid on a job tomorrow.”

  Great, Judy thought to herself, as they went through the door to the garage, found the grimy elevator, climbed alone into a cab with filthy corrugated walls, and watched the broken floor numbers light up. She was in no mood to talk, and Frank had fallen uncharacteristically silent. They got out of the elevator, and when they reached her car, Judy chirped it open and stowed Frank in the passenger seat, where he listed to the left, with a grateful smile.

  “Thanks, babe. You take such good care of me.”

  “No worries. Put on your seat belt.” Judy closed the door, then went around the car, tossed her bag in the back and climbed into the driver’s seat, then closed the door behind her.

  “You’re mad at me, I know. I really am sorry.”

  “Forget it,” Judy said, without meaning it. This wasn’t the time or the place to talk about anything that mattered, and she had to sort out her thoughts. She put on her seat belt, started the engine, and reversed out of the spot. The garage was dark and cramped even by Philly standards, and she steered toward the exit ramp, where they corkscrewed their way downward in darkness.

  “Babe. You want to say I-told-you-so, so you should just go ahead and say it.”

  “I don’t want to say I-told-you-so.” Judy navigated with care, if only to avoid his eye.

  “Yes you do. Say it.”

  “I wish I could get you to understand this, but I don’t want to be right. I just want you to do the right thing.”

  “But it was an accident.”

  “It was an accident when you injured it the first time.” Judy twisted the steering wheel, hugging the concrete center of the down ramp, like a descent into urban hell. “It’s not an accident when you injure it the second time, because you’re not supposed to be playing basketball.”

  “What was I supposed to do? They didn’t have enough guys for a team. They couldn’t have entered the tournament.”

  “You know why they didn’t have enough guys?” Judy finally reached the first floor, where she followed exit signs to the cashier. “Because most of the guys are doing what grown-ups do on a Saturday, not playing basketball.”

  “What are you talking about? You can still be grown-up and play basketball.” Frank’s tone sounded hurt, but Judy didn’t look over. The cashier’s booth was coming up, and her purse was in the backseat. She’d forgotten to take her wallet out for parking money.

  “Do you have any cash on you?” Judy asked, though she knew the answer. “I only need about ten bucks.”

  “No.”

  “How about a card?” Judy slid the parking ticket from the visor, knowing that answer, too.

  “I maxed it out on supplies, so I shouldn’t use it.”

  Of course you did, Judy thought but didn’t say, simmering. She braked in the line at the booth, twisted around, and grappled in the backseat for her purse.

  “Anyway, grown-ups play basketball.
What do you think the NBA is?”

  “That’s not the point.” Judy yanked open her purse, retrieved her wallet, and found her credit card. “You need to take care of yourself better. You need to think of yourself.”

  “That’s selfish.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “Yes, it is. They needed me.”

  “I needed you, too, Frank,” Judy said, her voice catching. She slid out her VISA card and gave the car some gas. She still couldn’t meet his eye.

  “What did you need me for? Why?”

  “Lots of reasons.” Judy hesitated to tell him, not wanting to make him feel guilty, which was ridiculous. He was in the wrong, so he should feel guilty about it, but she had trained him to think she didn’t need him. She steered to the booth, where she handed her credit card and ticket to an older man behind the thick, smudged glass. “Here we go, sir.”

  “Like what, babe? What did you need me for?”

  “I was in Kennett because Aunt Barb has breast cancer. She’s having a mastectomy tomorrow morning. My mom is already there, with her.”

  “Oh no, I’m sorry.” Frank sounded genuinely shocked, and Judy felt her chest tighten.

  “I know, and it’s terrible for her.”

  “Is she going to be okay?”

  “I hope so.”

  “I’m sure she will.”

  “It’s stage II, Frank. Not everybody gets better.”

  “She will.” Frank patted her hand on the stick shift, and Judy glanced over. His eyes looked pained, if unfocused, but he seemed suddenly pale under his grizzly stubble.

  “You okay?”

  “I don’t feel so good. My stomach.”

  Judy wanted to explain about the chemo and Iris’s death, but he was too sick to listen. “So, just rest. We’ll be home soon.”

  “Okay, I think I need to.” Frank leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry about Barb, but she’s a strong woman, like you. She’ll be okay, I know it. Don’t worry.”

  “I’m sure she will be,” Judy said, but she didn’t believe her own words. She took her credit card back from the cashier, steered out of the lot, and motored onto Seventh, where she stopped at the traffic light. It had just turned green when her phone rang in her pocket, and she pulled it out quickly. The screen showed a photo of a grinning Mary, and Judy hit a button to talk, but kept her voice low. “Hi Mare, I’m driving.”

  “Okay, I won’t keep you. Did you decide about the cases?”

  “What cases?” Judy felt suddenly teary at the sound of Mary’s voice.

  “The damages trials.”

  “Arg. I haven’t had a chance. Sorry. Can we talk about it tomorrow?”

  “Fine, but what’s the matter? You don’t sound good.”

  “It’s not me. It’s my aunt Barb. She has cancer.”

  “No! Not Aunt Barb!”

  “I know. She’s having a mastectomy tomorrow.” Judy still found it hard to say. “We’re trying to be optimistic. She’s optimistic.”

  “Oh God. I’ll say a prayer and so will my mom.”

  “Thanks,” Judy said, but she didn’t know if prayer helped. She wished she had Mary’s faith. She wished she had anybody’s faith. She could use a credible God, right about now.

  “What can I do?”

  “Nothing, thanks.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “Back in the city, heading home.”

  “I’m at the office. I can be there in five minutes. We can hang.”

  “No, I’m fine, thanks.”

  “So is that why your mom came in?”

  “Yes, I was in Kennett Square until today.”

  “Oh no. Poor Barb. She’s so nice. You sure you don’t need help?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Take the time off if you need to, this week. I’ll cover your desk. You’re not in court or anything, are you?”

  “I’ll be in tomorrow. I have a deposition in the morning.”

  “Judy, don’t. Cancel it. Take the day off. Go be with Barb and your mom.”

  “I wanted to, but they told me to go to work. I’ll see them on Monday afternoon, after the dep.” Judy glanced at Frank, who had fallen asleep, his head bobbing as they drove over the cobblestones in the historic section of the city. She braked slightly, slowing the car so he wouldn’t wake up. “I should go, I just picked Frank up at the ER. He reinjured his hand, playing basketball.”

  “Oh no.”

  “Oh yes. Apparently he’s in the NBA.”

  Mary snorted. “I guess he can’t wash the dog now.”

  “Bingo. It’s all part of his plan, no doubt.” Judy had completely forgotten about the dog, who probably needed to be walked, too. “So I’ll be doing flea laundry all night, and I think I’m out of Wisk. Whatever. Gotta go, okay?”

  “Okay. Sure. Bye.”

  “Bye.” Judy hung up, pressing the screen to end the call, then steered the rest of the way home, trying to sort out her emotions. She hated to think of the chores that lay ahead tonight, washing the dog, vacuuming the rugs, and doing the laundry. She had no idea how she’d get the time to go back for Frank’s truck. Even so, she knew that worrying about mundane tasks was easier than worrying about her Aunt Barb, Iris, or her mother, but by the time she reached their street, her heart was nonetheless heavy.

  She reached their neighborhood in artsy Old City, its narrow streets limned with art and photo galleries, cool boutiques, and brick rowhomes of a colonial vintage, which had been converted to apartments. She turned onto her street and took the first parking space that she saw, a few doors from their apartment. She cut the ignition, and was about to wake Frank up when she looked over at her building.

  Standing on her front step was a smiling Mary DiNunzio.

  And in her hand was a red plastic jug of Wisk.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Here’s my question,” Judy began to say, as she stuffed a sheet into the washing machine. Frank had gone upstairs to bed, and she was standing with Mary in the hallway that passed for a laundry room, because the washer-dryer could be covered by a louvered door. “Why can’t my boyfriend be as awesome as my girlfriend?”

  “It’s the boy part.” Mary smiled, looking adorable in a Penn sweatshirt, jeans, and ponytail. She had on the tortoiseshell glasses she wore when she wasn’t at work, but she was even cuter in glasses than contacts, every inch The Girl Most Likely.

  “No, I mean it.” Judy slammed the washer door closed, for emphasis. “You’re so awesome to show up on my doorstep, just when I’m feeling the worst ever. I can’t thank you enough for that.”

  “Honey, you don’t have to thank me.”

  “No, you’re amazing. You don’t even have to be asked, you just know what I need.” Judy cranked the big dial on top of the washing machine to HEAVY LOAD, because even a single sheet overwhelmed the tiny washer-dryer. Or maybe she was feeling sorry for herself and suddenly everything seemed like a Heavy Load.

  “You sounded bummed on the phone, and we need to catch up. I’ve been so crazy lately, with the wedding and all. And it’s nothing to come over, I’m only uptown.”

  “No, it’s everything. Your coming over here, it’s why you’re the best friend ever in the history of friends. You know what I need even before I do.”

  Mary chuckled. “All right already, so what’s your point about Frank? You have to cut him a break. He’s not at his best right now.”

  “Oh please. He’s not on Percocet all the time, and he wouldn’t be on Percocet this time if he made better decisions.” Judy uncapped the new Wisk jug and poured a blue stream into the little opening in the machine.

  “Aren’t you going to measure the detergent?”

  “No, I live dangerously.”

  “I always measure.”

  “I know, and that’s why I have a sucky boyfriend and you have a great boyfriend. Sorry, I mean fiancé.” Judy set the heavy Wisk jug on the washer with a thump. “Jeez, this thing is a lethal instrum
ent.”

  “You were saying…” Mary cued her as usual, and Judy wondered where she’d be without her best friend to keep her on conversational track.

  “I was saying, you don’t have to be responsible about everything. Maybe I’m putting in too much detergent, but so what? That you can take a chance with. But playing basketball with a broken hand isn’t the kind of thing that smart people take chances with. Agree?”

  “Yes.”

  “So what’s his deal? Is he stupid?” Judy waited to hear the washing cycle start, and when it did, she shut the louvered door. “Now let’s go find the dog. She hides when it’s bath time.”

  “Of course he’s not stupid. He runs his own company.”

  “Exactly, so why can’t he figure this out? Penny! Penny!” Judy padded into the living room in her stocking feet. “It’s not rocket science.”

  Mary followed her, with a confused frown. “What can’t he figure out, again?”

  “That I need help.” Judy glanced around, but her dog was nowhere in sight. Their small living room looked sweet—two floor-to-ceiling windows facing south, a funky purple velvet sectional with a flea-market Victorian coffee table, and all four walls covered with her bright, abstract oil paintings—except that Frank had left his sweat socks and running sneakers on the ottoman, an open bag of hard pretzels and a Coors can on the end table without a coaster, and the remote control on the floor beside the couch. “See? Look around. Would you leave the place like this?”

  “He was going to the ER. He was in pain.”

  “He lifted his beer, didn’t he? I always have to get after him to clean up. And where’s the dog? Penny, Penny! Come!”

  “Is she upstairs?”

  “No, I bet the coat closet. Meanwhile, he was supposed to take the dog to be dipped, but he forgot, so now I have to wash her myself again, because I just did all the sheets.” Judy headed for the entrance hall. “Anyway, if he can’t figure it out himself, why can’t he just watch you? Why can’t he just do what you do? Why can’t he just copy you? Or copy me? If he did for me what I do for him, we’d get along great!”

  “He’s a fun-loving, happy guy. He’s the kind of guy that takes you out to dinner on the spur of the moment.”