Think Twice

by Lisa Scottoline

  “I don’t like her putting you off.”

  Mary realized she hadn’t mentioned her father’s breakfast with Fiorella, so she told Anthony that story, too, but he just laughed.

  “You’re so fired up today, babe. Is this what happens when we don’t have sex?”

  Mary cringed. “What do you think? Weird or not, that he ate out with Fiorella?”

  “Not. They ate after they went to the hospital. What’s wrong with that?”

  “Why didn’t they eat in the hospital cafeteria?”

  “Did you ever eat in a hospital cafeteria? Don’t think anything of it. Tell me you love me, I have to go to the library.”

  “I love you, I have to go to the library.”

  “That’s original.”

  “But it’s still funny.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  Mary felt stung. “You’re being mean.”

  “No, you are, but I love you anyway.”

  “Love you, too.” Mary pressed END, grateful that he hadn’t mentioned house-hunting. She speed-dialed Judy, who picked up right away, sounding weak. “Jude, what’s the matter?”

  “Somebody’s giving me the evil eye and the evil head and the evil stomach. Can we call Fiorella? I need a booster spell.”

  “She’s not home.” Mary shook her head. “This is what comes of bringing gringos into an Italian household. You just have the flu.”

  “In August?”

  “It happens.”

  “It’s not that. It’s evil, pure evil. What should I do? Should we call Williams-Sonoma?”

  “Why them?”

  “For olive oil. Fiorella said we needed the best. If we’d had the best last night, I’d be fine today.”

  Mary let it go. “Do you want me to come over?”

  “No, I’m just going back to sleep.”

  “You sure you’re okay alone?”

  “Yes.”

  Mary couldn’t hang up just yet. “Jude, you wanna hear a story, or are you too sick?”

  “Gimme the headline.”

  “Alice quit PLG, I might make partner in September, and my father had breakfast with Fiorella at a restaurant.”

  “That’s incredible!” Judy’s tone improved, which Mary attributed to the curative powers of gossip.

  “Which one’s incredible?”

  “The restaurant.”

  “I know, right?”

  “And you, a partner! Time for the big-girl panties!”

  Mary smiled. “Not yet. Maybe.”

  “Sure you will! And Alice? The bitch is back?”

  “Get this. She took money from PLG. She stole from the poor.”

  “Whoa. She got her Robin Hood mixed up. She’s Hood Robin.”

  “She’ll burn in hell.”

  “Poor Bennie,” Judy said, which was exactly the reaction Mary expected, so she told Judy the rest of the story, and they both agreed on the need for a back-up restraining order.

  Mary said, “Bennie’s not so bad, you know. We judge her too harshly.”

  “That’s so like us.”

  “She opened up to me, today. She actually said, ‘I appreciate you.’ ”

  Judy gasped. “You misheard.”

  “No. We confided.”

  “No!”

  “Yes!”

  “Tell me what she said.”

  Mary smiled. “Then it wouldn’t be confidential, but we talked about being twins.”

  “Well, I’m happy about your partnership. Just remember I knew you when.”

  Mary felt a twinge. She couldn’t believe that she might make partner before Judy, who was so much smarter. “I owe it to you, Jude. You’re the one who put me up to it. I never would’ve asked if you hadn’t made me.”

  “I only encouraged you.”

  “No, you shamed me into it.”

  “Whatever. I’m just glad. You deserve it.”

  Mary felt so lucky, in having Judy as a friend and Bennie as a boss. “You’re the best, you know that?”

  “Don’t get all melty. I’m going back to bed. Watch out for Fiorella, Mare. She could bewitch your dad. See you later.”

  “Don’t be silly, and feel better.” Mary hung up, but held the warm BlackBerry in her palm for a minute.

  She was wondering how Judy always knew what she was thinking, even when she didn’t know herself.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Bennie screamed and pounded on the new crack, hoping it would weaken, ignoring the animal scratching and growling on the other side of the lid, trying to get inside. She flashed on a terrifying image of its teeth sinking into her neck, then realized something. If the animal dug through the lid, he could help her break the crack.

  She flipped her thinking. The animal wasn’t her enemy, he was her friend. He was on her side. She needed it to keep scratching and digging. She started pounding again, this time to taunt him, then began scratching on the wood, digging toward the animal as he dug toward her. Each of them scratched his side of the lid, the animal on the top and her on the bottom, mirror images of each other.

  She grunted with effort, reduced to some primal state, merging into her animal self, clawing frantically at the wood, raking her nails along its surface. Something in her snapped when she realized that this was her last chance. She was running out of air.

  She clawed and dug and tore, then started pounding, not feeling the pain, not smelling the stink, devolved and focused only on her scratching, fueled by the scratching on the other side.

  She wouldn’t stop until she was dead.

  Or devoured.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Alice studied the claims in the Rexco Complaint, and it wasn’t difficult. The gist was that Rexco was a national manufacturer of screw-top lids, and three of its employees had quit to go work for a rival company, taking with them the trade secrets for making the lids, which violated Pennsylvania law. A different law firm had drafted the Complaint, and she could see that it wasn’t well done, full of typos and bad citation form, which were basic mistakes.

  She flipped through the correspondence file and found a letter from Rexco, asking to come to the office for new representation, and another letter, from Bennie, agreeing to the meeting and outlining an overview of trade secret and unfair competition law in the Commonwealth, which gave Alice a complete script for the meeting on Monday.

  She knew she’d have to quote some of the cases and maybe use a legal buzzword or two, so she turned to the laptop, logged on to Lexis, and skimmed enough cases to hum a few bars. Then she shifted gears, mentally put the Rexco file away, and got back to her own agenda by logging on to travelocity .com. She couldn’t find any direct flights from Philly to Nassau in the evening, so she booked the last flight to Miami, then a connection to Nassau on Monday night, paid for with Bennie’s Amex.

  “Bennie?”

  Alice jumped, then minimized the travel website.

  “DiNunzio.”

  “Sorry to interrupt. You were working so hard, you didn’t hear me knock. I wanted you to know that the brief is almost done and I’m going home.”

  “Already?”

  Mary looked apologetic. “It’s almost six o’clock.”

  Give her approval, but a little at a time.“I’ll finish by tomorrow night, so it’s ready to be filed on Monday morning. You want me to email you a copy?”

  “No, there’s no need to. I trust your work.”

  “Thanks. See you.” Mary smiled happily, then left and closed the door behind her, and Alice went back online, looking for hotels in Nassau. There was no Ritz or Four Seasons, but there were decent ones with availability, since it was off season. She looked up the address of the BSB bank in Nassau and booked a hotel near the bank, so she could be there when it opened, then started cruising the web for offshore banks in Switzerland and the Caymans, because she’d have to move the money one more time. By the time anybody realized she was gone for good, the money would be gone for good, too.

  When she looked up again, i
t was eight o’clock. The computer screen glowed, and the hallway had darkened. Outside the window, the city lights were coming up, white squares from office buildings and neon lines on the spiky skyscrapers. She packed the Rexco file in Bennie’s knapsack, because no lawyer ever went home without work, then grabbed her messenger bag. She hit the elevator, put on her game face, and walked toward the security desk, where she signed out with Bennie’s signature.

  Steve looked up from his newspaper, his eyes unfocused behind his glasses. “Good night, Bennie. Like I said, don’t worry about a thing.”

  “Thanks.” Alice left and pushed through the old-fashioned doors, and outside it was sweltering, even at this hour. The street was congested, and she hailed a cab, which pulled over quickly. She opened the door and slid into the backseat, sticky on her bare thighs. “No air?” she asked, but the old cabbie shrugged his shoulders.

  “Sorry.”

  She gave him Bennie’s address and sat back, letting the hot air blow on her face. The ride wasn’t long, and she eyed the couples walking hand-in-hand, going out to dinner and clubs, all dressed up. It was Saturday night and she was horny as hell, but her only date was the Rexco file.

  The cab reached Bennie’s neighborhood and cruised down the street toward her house, but there was someone sitting on her front step. In the dark, it looked like a homeless guy, but as the cab got closer, she could see that he was a total hunk, tall and blond. He looked too straight to be her type, but he was still hot, even in glasses and a striped tie. She couldn’t see his features clearly, but he had light, wavy hair, an old-school white shirt, and his suit jacket was slung over one shoulder.

  She handed the driver a ten, grabbed her messenger bag and knapsack and got out of the cab, rearranging her features into the Bennie mask.

  The man gave her a wave, obviously mistaking her for Bennie, and rose to meet her, his smile partly in shadow.

  She finally recognized him. It was the one who got away. Bennie’s old boyfriend, Grady Wells. She remembered him from the trial, where he sat in the gallery to observe one or two days.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” he said softly, embracing her. “Surprised to see me?”

  “Happily so,” she answered, hugging him back. The Rexco file would wait. Her Saturday night had fallen into place.

  She smelled reunion sex.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Mary was trying to make a decision, which wasn’t her strong suit. This time the choice was BF or BFF—should she go see her boyfriend or her best friend forever? She hoped to decide on the walk home. The only downside to having a boyfriend was that you were supposed to spend time with them, even when they were cranky.

  She had stopped off and done some shopping, but it hadn’t helped her make a decision, and now she owned three shirts she didn’t need, even at ten percent off. She always bought all the stuff she didn’t need on sale, so she could save money as she wasted it, which seemed time-efficient and very partnery.

  She sighed, walking in the heat. It was dark, and weekend traffic clogged the street. A couple hurried past her, the guy holding a dry-cleaned tuxedo in a plastic bag. Another couple strolled by, laughing. It was Saturday night, and under federal law, Mary wasn’t allowed to spend it with a BFF if she had a BF. But she and her BF didn’t have any plans, and a sick BFF trumped a healthy BF, especially if the Phillies were playing, but they weren’t. The laws of dating could be so complicated, and it was lucky she had a J.D.

  The shops were locking their doors as she passed, and the restaurants beginning to form lines out the door. She was coming to a decision. She didn’t think Anthony would mind if she spent the evening with Judy. Maybe he was as bugged as she was, though it wasn’t his partnership in question, his boss in trouble, or his parents headed for Cheaters. She took her phone out of her purse, pressed A, and waited for him to pick up.

  “Hey, babe,” he said, breathless.

  “How are you?”

  “Working away. I left the library to take your call.”

  “I’m sorry. Do you mind if I don’t see you tonight? Judy’s sick, and I should go over.”

  “No problem, I’ll just work. Call me later?”

  “I won’t be done with her until late.”

  “Okay, I won’t wait for your call. Have fun. Are we gonna look at houses tomorrow?”

  Uh-oh. “Not sure, yet. I have a lot of work.”

  “Really? Sunday’s a big open-house day, and the weather’s supposed to be less humid. It would be fun.”

  Mary felt a guilty twinge. “I know, but I have that brief to write for Bennie.”

  “Okay, call me whenever, tonight or tomorrow. Let me know what you want to do.” Anthony was silent a minute. “Babe, you mad at me?”

  Mary’s throat caught. “No. Are you?”

  “Not at all. I love you.”

  “Love you, too. Good night.” Mary pressed END, placated. She did love him, and he loved her. They were in love, and nothing was wrong. She pressed J, and Judy picked up, croaking a hello. Mary said, “I’m coming to check on you. What do you need beside Häagen-Dazs?”

  “Fresh limes.”

  “For what?”

  “Margaritas, of course.”

  “See you in half an hour, crazy.” Mary pressed END and picked up the pace, satisfied she had made the right decision. Sometimes BFFs were better for Saturday nights, especially when limes were involved.

  Half an hour later, one look at Judy, in her gray hoodie and blue gym shorts, told Mary her BFF was sick. Her fair skin was pale, her blue eyes washed out, and a short yellow ponytail sprouted from her head like the Lorax.

  “Feeling crummy, honey?” Mary asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Poor thing.” Mary closed the apartment door, then trailed Judy into her tiny galley kitchen, where she dropped her purse and briefcase on the café table and set the shopping bag on a butcherblock counter. “Did you sleep?”

  “No, my head hurt too much.”

  “Did you have some soup?”

  “I hate soup. I like tequila.”

  Mary stowed the ice cream in the freezer and unpacked five fresh limes, which rolled around on the counter. “You really think alcohol’s a good idea?”

  “Yes. Tequila’s like Vitamin C, without the Vitamin or the C.”

  “I can only have one drink. I gotta get up early and finish that brief for Bennie.” Mary sniffed the air, which reeked of the turpentine and oil paints that Judy kept in her studio/apartment, which really was a studio and an apartment. “You know, that smell would make anybody sick.”

  “It’s not the smell, it’s the spell.”

  Mary looked over. “Did you just make that up?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then we should get you to a doctor.”

  “Please call Fiorella.”

  Mary rolled her eyes. “You, a woman of genius, can’t actually believe that you have the evil eye. It’s folk medicine. It’s what peasants made up to explain their lives, like sacrificing goats.”

  “What’s the harm in calling her? Humor me.”

  “Fine.” Mary went to the table, retrieved her phone, and sat down with it, pressing H. The phone rang, and she hit a button. “I’m putting it on speaker. I wanna hear what she says.”

  “Good.” Judy folded her arms.

  “ ’Allo?” Mary’s mother said, picking up.

  “Hi, Ma, how are you?”

  “I’m a fine, Maria, how you?”

  Mary cut the small talk. “Good, but I’m here with Judy, who thinks she has the evil eye, still.”

  “Oh Deo!”

  “Can you ask Fiorella to come to the phone?”

  “Fiorella? She’s a no here. She go viz’ her ladyfrien’, on Snyd’ Avenue. They come back, soon.”

  “They? Who’s they?”

  “Your father, he take her.”

  “And he’s not back yet?”

  Mary and Judy exchanged looks.

  “He drive her.”

  M
ary’s mouth fell open. Her father never drove anybody anywhere. Nobody in South Philly ever gave up a parking space unless they were going to their own funeral. “Why didn’t she take a cab? You can’t park on Snyder anyway.”

  “What, Maria, why?”

  “Ma, Fiorella came to visit you, but she’s visiting everyone else, with Pop. Did you eat dinner alone?”

  “Is good, alla good.”

  Judy edged closer to the phone. “Hey, Mrs. D, it’s Judy. How are you?”

  “Good, Judy, you got ’em bad?”

  “Mrs. D, can you cure me?” Judy looked hopeful. “No, no, only Donna Fiorella. She have a great power, greates’ power, more great than a me.”

  “Ma, no, stop that, you’re as good as Fiorella.” Mary’s heart went out to her little mother, eating dinner alone and thinking her superpowers were substandard.

  “Maria, she’s a better, strong, she’s a very strong.”

  Judy asked, “Can we call Fiorella at her girlfriend’s?”

  “No, non lo so.”

  Mary was trying to remember the last time her mother had spent a Saturday night without her father. “I don’t like you being alone so much. This is wrong.”

  “Shhh, basta, tomorr’, you come to church?”

  “I can’t, I have to work. Sorry.”

  “Okay, Maria. Good night, love you, Maria, Jud’, love you, God bless.”

  “Love you, Ma. Bye.” Mary hung up, heartsick. “This is ridiculous. My father never leaves the house.”

  “Correction, he never leaves the kitchen.” Judy started cutting limes with a sharp knife, releasing a pungent scent. “I’ll help you with your brief, after we have the perfect margarita.”

  “You got a shot glass instead?” Mary asked, rising.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Bennie dug into the lid, pounding and dragging her nails across the wood, reduced to the animal on the other side. She fought the awareness that it was getting harder and harder to breathe. She couldn’t fill her lungs and settled for shallow panting, little intakes of breath that could barely keep her going. She knew she needed oxygen because she could feel her brain get funky, her thoughts melting together in odd ways, like she kept thinking she had a giant can opener and was prying the lid off the box, like in the Popeye cartoons where they took the top off the spinach can, leaving a jagged edge. Boy, she was wishing for one of those can openers right now, and if she had one, she knew it would do the trick.