Detective Krakoff turned to the docket sheets that Lou had printed off the computer. They hadn’t been hard to find, since court records were searchable by party.
Mary picked up her bag. “Detective Krakoff, the only thing I ask is that you give me prior notice before you go visit Shanahan.”
Detective Krakoff looked up sharply. “I don’t notify defense counsel of the steps I take in an investigation.”
“I’m asking out of concern for the safety of John’s brother, William.”
“The reason doesn’t matter. It’s not procedure.”
“Please, reconsider, for William’s sake.” Mary spoke from the heart, still raw at the memory of William’s sweetness, as well as his pain. “I’m assuming that Glenn Meade doesn’t know about these allegations against Shanahan or they wouldn’t have hired him. Shanahan will probably lose his job when this comes to light, whether from you or me. Now that I know that Shanahan may be violent, I’m concerned that he may retaliate against William for my coming to you, even if he hadn’t been told before about the complaint, by John. Either way, I don’t want William in harm’s way because we’re about to expose Shanahan.”
“I still don’t see the need to notify you.” Detective Krakoff’s attention returned to the papers.
“But you wouldn’t have this information if I hadn’t given it to you. I came in a spirit of cooperation, hoping we could coordinate our approach and—”
“How many ways do I have to say it? Police business is confidential.”
“But, obviously, I won’t reveal anything. I’m worried about William’s safety.”
“I’m not informing you of what I do.”
“But he’s an innocent person, whose brother was just murdered. He’s alone in the world. Vulnerable.”
“Not my problem,” Detective Krakoff said without looking up.
“You know, I wanted to give you a second chance after that stunt you pulled with the ring. I was hoping you could be trusted.” Mary rose to go. “But since you can’t, let me give it to you straight. If anything happens to William because you talked to Shanahan without telling me, then I will hold you personally responsible and sue you blind.”
Detective Krakoff snorted. “You don’t scare me, Mary.”
“That’s because you see what I look like, not what I can do. I may have a bellyful of baby, but I’m one of the best lawyers in the city.” Mary crossed to the door. “And if William gets hurt, you’re going to find out what I’m capable of. It will cost you your house, your car, your pension, and every last penny you have.”
“And how is that exactly?” Detective Krakoff looked up, his expression amused.
“I just recorded everything you said.” Mary showed him her phone. “Imagine how callous and awful you’ll sound to a jury, or judge, or even your boss, if something happens to William.”
Detective Krakoff fell quiet.
And Mary turned away, smiling.
* * *
Ten minutes later, Mary and Judy were hurrying to the glass exit doors of the Roundhouse, bracing themselves for the throng of media. The story of the triple homicide in the Northeast had blown up, with one suspect in custody and a citywide manhunt for another under way, and the Police Commissioner had been giving periodic updates from a makeshift lectern in front of the entrance, which was Philly’s idea of a classy press conference.
Mary and Judy hustled out of the building and past the reporters, keeping their faces down to avoid being recognized. They stepped off the curb behind the empty lectern, and just then Mary heard a female reporter shout, “Hey, Mary DiNunzio! Judy Carrier! Why are you back? You’re suspects in the murder of John Foxman, aren’t you? Where’s Bennie Rosato? Any comment? Any comment?”
The other reporters joined in, calling out questions. “Any comment, Mary?” “Are you suspects in the Foxman murder?” “What’s going on?” “Give us a comment!”
“No comment!” Mary hurried away as fast as she could, and Judy bolted ahead of her toward the street, breaking into a jog and flagging down a cab at the parking lot entrance. The cab lurched to a stop, and Judy opened the door, climbing in and sliding aside for Mary, who waddled like a duck on steroids.
“Mary, when are you going to make a statement?” shouted the same female reporter, dogging her steps. “What about Judy and Bennie? Are you going to confess? Are you trying to get a deal? What’s going on with the Foxman murder?”
Other reporters called out, “Any comment, Mary?” “Are both of you suspects?” “Come on, just one comment!”
Mary glanced back to see the female reporter who had started the questioning, startled to recognize her as the scruffy woman with the gelled spiky hair, who had been at the press conference.
“Come on, Mary!” “How about a comment? Just one comment?”
“No comment!” Mary ducked into the cab, raised her phone quickly, and snapped a picture as they took off.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Mary and Judy got off the elevator, passed the Rosato & DiNunzio sign, and hustled down the hallway toward their offices, surprised to find Bennie, Anne, and Lou talking with Roger in front of the conference room.
“Hi, Roger,” Mary and Judy said, in unison.
“Hello. Sorry to have missed you both.” Roger hoisted a trim leather messenger bag onto his shoulder. “How are you?”
“We’ve been better,” Mary answered, since Judy had been subdued in the cab, nervous that she had given the samples and obsessing over her fingerpads, which now bore telltale black ink from the fingerprinting process.
“I’m officially a person of interest,” Judy answered quietly.
“But I told Detective Krakoff about Shanahan,” Mary interjected quickly, trying to buck up Judy’s sagging spirits. “Meanwhile, what’s going on here? Is something the matter?”
“Yes, Machiavelli’s upping the ante.” Bennie frowned. “Roger got a letter from our case investigator at the Pennsylvania Human Relations Commission. They want to interview the three of us as soon as possible.”
“So soon?” Mary didn’t get it. “We didn’t even answer the Complaint yet.”
“Machiavelli’s been lobbying them. He’s accused them of dragging their feet in the investigation. He just sent them a letter to that effect, copying Roger.”
“Are you kidding?” Mary asked, astounded. “It’s been, like, two days! This is ridiculous!”
“I know, and of course he’s pushing the fact that John has been murdered. He even suggested to the Human Relations Commission that they coordinate their investigation with the police, given that ‘we may be suspects’ in his murder.” Bennie made air quotes. “He claims that John’s statement in the Complaint could be proof that we had a motive to kill John, so he wouldn’t testify against us.”
“Geez, he stops at nothing!” Mary gritted her teeth. “He has no decency whatsoever!”
“They want to interview us separately and they want the first interview on Wednesday. DiNunzio, why don’t you take it? I’m on trial, and Judy needs some time. That’s only one day after John’s memorial service.”
“I’ll go, I want to. I’ll give them an earful!”
Roger put up his hand like a traffic cop. “There’s no reason to get bent out of shape.”
“I’ve been bent out of shape for seven months,” Mary shot back. “And you don’t know Machiavelli like I do. This is just the kind of stuff he does. He presses forward on all fronts. He never lets up. He’s seriously demented. He’s got no family, no friends. He never married or had kids. His job, his firm, his ego, is all he’s about and he hates to lose.”
“I understand,” Roger said, calmly. “I know how to deal with him.”
“Oh really?” Mary tried to check her tone, but she felt angry. “Did Bennie tell you that we almost got fired this morning because our denial wasn’t strong enough in the press release?”
Roger blinked, his mouth a grim line. “Yes, and we’ve discussed that. Allow me to remind you tha
t we agreed that I will conduct this litigation as I see fit.”
“Yes, we did, but I know more about Machiavelli than anybody here and you don’t seem to be listening to me.”
“I am, but I’m staying the course. I have reminded Bennie of her agreement to let me do so. I would ask you to do the same.” Roger hesitated. “Mary, I understand your emotion, but it’s misdirected. You’re not angry at me, you’re angry at Machiavelli.”
“I’m angry at you both,” Mary said, though she wondered if Roger were right. “We’re getting whipsawed, don’t you see that? Machiavelli will use John’s murder against us in the reverse-discrimination case, and I bet if he has his way, the police will use the reverse-discrimination case in the murder case, maybe even against Judy.”
Roger shook his head. “You’re getting carried away. The police think Judy’s motive is a lover’s quarrel.”
“Two motives are better than one, and they were fighting about the reverse-discrimination complaint.” Mary glanced over at Judy, who looked upset, so she let it go. “Look, Machiavelli will go lower than you can ever think. You guys have been working on the reverse-discrimination complaint, haven’t you? Have you seen any connection between the three plaintiffs and Machiavelli?”
“None,” Roger answered, patiently.
“We tried,” Bennie chimed in, her expression resigned. “Machiavelli is their lawyer, but as far as we can tell, that’s the only connection. The three plaintiffs never worked for him or never met him.”
Mary wasn’t buying it. “I know he’s behind it. I know he manufactured that lawsuit.”
Bennie waved her off. “Let it go, DiNunzio. We don’t need it anyway. We have our hands full.”
Roger nodded. “More than full.”
Mary couldn’t let it go. “I want to see those resumes, and any of the documents on the reverse-discrimination case. Will you email them to me? I just can’t believe there’s no connection. Machiavelli will stop at nothing, nothing. Let me give you another example.” Mary slipped her hand in her pocket and showed them her phone, with its photo of the reporter. “Do you recognize this woman with the spiky hair? She was at our press conference here. Just now, she was also outside of the Roundhouse, asking us questions. She said she was a freelancer, does anybody remember?”
Bennie leaned over, squinting at the phone. “I do.”
Anne nodded. “She’s the one. That’s definitely her.”
Mary felt validated, which only made her angrier. “That’s what I thought, and you know what else? I bet she’s not an independent freelancer. I bet that Machiavelli hired her.”
“You think so?” Bennie asked, skeptical. “You think she’s a proxy, too? And the plaintiffs?”
Roger smiled slightly. “Mary, that does seem somewhat paranoid.”
“No it isn’t.” Mary had been thinking it over in the cab. “It’s too coincidental that she’s everywhere we go. Her questions aren’t typical reporter questions, they’re shouted accusations.”
“Really?” Bennie cocked her head.
“Yes, think about it. We know he uses the press. He gets himself on camera. She’s just a proxy for him, and there’s probably others.” Mary showed Lou the picture. “Lou, can you find out who this woman is? Do you have any way to do that?”
“Let me see, Mare.” Lou took the phone from Mary’s hands, squinting at the photo through his bifocals. “I could give it a shot. If she came to our press conference, she would have to sign in and show ID at the security desk.”
“Unless she used a fake name, but please check.” Mary took her phone back. “And you know what else I want to know, Lou? How did she know that the police called us to the Roundhouse? Does Machiavelli have somebody leaking police information to him?”
Anne interjected, “If she freelances, she could have been there already. Maybe it’s not about us.”
Lou folded his arms. “I’ll look into it, Mare. How did it go at the Roundhouse, about Shanahan?”
“Good, and thanks for the information. I suggested to Detective Krakoff that he look into Shanahan, and he agreed.” Mary turned to Bennie and the others, filling them in on John’s draft complaint with DHS and Shanahan’s abusive history.
Bennie’s blue eyes narrowed. “So you think this Shanahan is the killer? Not a burglar?”
“I think it’s certainly possible, and we’re concerned that William could be in jeopardy, if John told him that he was going to file a complaint against Shanahan.”
“That would be risky for Shanahan,” Bennie said, dubious.
“I agree, but we don’t want to take any chances. William is more vulnerable now than ever, alone and without a legal guardian. If Shanahan wanted to hurt William, now would be the time. Shanahan might want to make the whole problem go away, with William. And if Shanahan wanted to press the feeding tube issue, he might try that now too.”
“Agree.” Judy nodded, worriedly. “I’m going to the group home to get William now. I want him with me before the police start investigating Shanahan, and the funeral’s tomorrow anyway. I have to get him a suit and shoes, and I’m also going to call John’s aunt and uncle, the Hodges, and talk about temporary guardianship, so Shanahan doesn’t try to preempt me on the feeding tube. I wanted to apply for it myself, but I’d have to disclose that I’m under suspicion of John’s murder, and no court will award me guardianship of William in those circumstances.”
“Right.” Bennie checked her watch. “Okay, I gotta get to work.”
“So do I.” Roger nodded. “Unless Mary would rather I stay?”
“No, thanks, Roger.” Mary felt a guilty twinge. “Sorry I snapped, but I want to go on record as having new doubts that your way is going to work with Machiavelli.”
“I hear you.” Roger smiled, starting to go. “I’ll keep an open mind if you will.”
“It’s a deal,” Mary said, but she didn’t mean it.
“Good-bye.” Roger headed out, and after he was gone, Mary finally exhaled.
“Bennie, are you really going to stay with The Way of the Guru? It’s not working. We’re getting handled by Machiavelli.”
“Let’s stay the course. We gave Roger our word, and we have to stand by that.” Bennie turned to Judy, placing a hand on her shoulder. “How are you holding up, Carrier?”
“For a person of interest, pretty good.”
“So go get William, then. You’ve got me worried about him now.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Mary settled in at the deposition next to her client, Alex Chen, Director of Marketing at London Technologies. He was about her age and easily the most attractive deponent she’d ever defended, not that that mattered, since she didn’t want to reverse-sexually harass. Alex was tall, well-built, and officially edgy in a leather motorcycle jacket, which he had on with skinny jeans and a crisp white tailored shirt, no tie. His hair was longish, with hip sideburns, and he had a dazzling smile, which was probably a job requirement in a marketing director.
The court reporter sat at his stenography machine, and opposing counsel, Marcus Benedict, sat across the table, an older preppy from Barret & Tottenham, one of the white-shoe firms that used to be completely populated by old preppies that had outlived their usefulness, like a legal appendix. Benedict still dressed in a three-piece suit and had horn-rimmed glasses, though not the ironic kind. His laptop sat open in front of him, but he had written his questions on a legal pad and was taking Chen through them in a methodical, chronological fashion, which worked for Mary. Her laptop was open and she was typing away, multitasking. Lou had told her that the female reporter was named Amanda Sussman, and Mary couldn’t wait to start digging and see if Sussman was connected to Machiavelli.
“Mr. Chen, please state your name and place of birth for the record.”
“Alexander Thomas Chen. New York, New York.”
“And what is your date of birth?”
“July 3, 1991.”
“And where did you attend college?”
“Penn State.”
“Did you graduate?”
“Yes.”
“When did you graduate?”
Mary tuned out through the endless preliminaries, went online, and typed “Amanda Sussman.” A clean, modern website popped onto the page, with a posed picture that Mary recognized as the female reporter dogging her steps. In the web photo, Sussman looked more corporate than scruffy and was smiling in a stock-photo sort of way. She was probably in her early twenties, had short brown hair, and wore a light blue turtleneck that matched her eyes as well as the font color of her website.
“Mr. Chen, where were you first employed upon graduating from Penn State?”
“I worked at a startup called LockIn.”
“And what was your position there?”
“I was an assistant in the marketing department.”
Mary read the bio on Sussman’s “About Amanda” page.
Amanda Sussman is a freelance writer who specializes in blogging, web content, and print content. She has a legal background and worked as a paralegal for two years. She also has a background in graphic design and has crafted webpages for companies in a variety of industries and she also blogs for B2C and B2B businesses. She can write anything, from features to brochureware, and she can help your company create promotional materials to help expand your customer base.
“Mr. Chen, now that we’ve been through your academic and employment history, we come to London Technologies. How long have you been marketing director at London Technologies?”
“Four years.”
“And who held that position before you?”
“No one.”
Benedict blinked behind his bifocals. “So is it fair to say you were the first marketing director?”
“Yes.”
“And why is that?”
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