Lisa Scottoline - Save Me

“Oh, my! You’re the one who left Amanda.”

Rose snapped her face front, mortified. Her cheeks flushed, her mouth went dry. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know whether to stay or leave. More heads turned in the back row, and Rose knew it was about her.

Mayor Krakowski raised his head, finishing the moment of silence. “Thank you, and allow me to introduce another person who needs no introduction, Senator Paul Martin. Senator Martin?” He stood aside as Senator Martin rose, tall and slim in a dark suit, with tortoiseshell glasses. His thick, graying hair caught the auditorium lights as he took the podium, raised the microphone, and said, “Good morning, Mayor Krakowski, Mr. Rodriguez, members of the school board, parents, and friends.”

Rose kept her eyes to the stage, pretending not to notice that the woman with the iPhone had turned away and was murmuring something to the woman beside her, who had been digging in her purse. The woman with the purse looked over and both of them edged away. More heads were turning around in the audience, as word spread to the back rows. They were all looking at her, talking about her.

Senator Martin continued, “I feel honored to address all of you this morning, on the loss of an amazing teacher, Marylou Battle, and two very dedicated cafeteria workers, Ellen Conze and Serena Perez. I see the expressions of loss and grief on your faces today, and I know that all of you will pull together and stay strong for your families, and particularly your children. Reesburgh is small, but strong, proud, and the very definition of community, and having been at Homestead like many of you, I know that you will persevere through this tragedy.”

Rose ignored the commotion to her right, where the women were talking to someone else, their heads together, their whispers behind manicured fingers. She held John closer, hugging him protectively, as people in the seats twisted around to get a look at her. People standing in the back were shifting away from her, leaving her alone. She felt surrounded by shuffling, rustling, and murmuring, but nobody said anything to her.

Rose swallowed hard. She realized that there weren’t going to be any more yelling matches, like at Fiore’s or the hospital. People would ignore and avoid her until she became invisible, someone they talked about, but not to. And she understood, for the first time, how Melly felt.

Every day of her life.

Rose was let into a small conference room, dominated by a floor-to-ceiling panel of windows and a round walnut table covered with papers, briefs, and a laptop. The two lawyers rose instantly, their backlit silhouettes markedly different; the man on the left was reedy and tall, and the one on the right was stocky and short. Until Rose’s eyes adjusted to the light behind them, she couldn’t see their features at all, and it added to her feeling of surrealism, that she found herself meeting with two faceless lawyers, one of whom represented criminals.

“Thanks for seeing me on such short notice,” she said, hoisting John higher on her hip, and the tall lawyer strode around the table toward her, extending a hand with long fingers. His polished smile came into focus first, then his light eyes behind hip rimless glasses, and a lean face framed by thick, reddish hair cut in expensive layers.

“Oliver Charriere.” His handshake was strong and brief, and he looked more styled than dressed, in a superbly tailored Italian suit with discreet pinstripes. “Great to meet you.”

“I’m Tom Lake,” said the other, who had a big folksy grin and the handshake of a weightlifter. His hair was short and bristle cut, his eyes brown behind aviator frames, and his tan suit strained at the seams. His neck was so big that the collar of his blue shirt cut into his jugular. “At this point, we usually say we’re Mutt and Jeff, but I can see you’re too young to get the joke.”

“Not at all, but thanks.” Rose smiled.

“Coffee?” Oliver asked, gesturing.

Tom smiled. “He takes your drink order, and I make the doughnuts. I’ve been baking all morning.”

Rose chuckled. “Coffee would be great, thanks.”

“Cream and sugar, correct?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

“My Spidey sense.” Oliver crossed to the credenza, which held a tall coffee container and a flat box of doughnuts. He picked up a styrofoam cup and raised it to the coffee dispenser, pressing down the button on the lid. “Women like cream and sugar. Very few women drink black coffee, and I can tell who they are with my eyes closed. You’re too lovely to be one of them.”

Tom snorted. “Believe it or not, Oliver’s inherent sexism helps when he picks a jury.”

“If not a wife,” Oliver added, and they laughed.

“Allow me.” Tom rolled a maroon Aeron chair from under the table for her. “Please, sit down. You okay with the baby?”

“Yes, thanks.” Rose took a seat, resettling John, who smiled up at her, then sucked his pacifier with such vigor that it moved up and down. “Thanks for letting me bring him.”

“Not at all, we allow pets.” Oliver strolled over with the coffee, and Tom shot him a comically dirty look.

“Please, show respect. That’s Leo Ingrassia’s son.”

“Right.” Rose felt herself relax. “And he bites.”

“So do I.” Oliver set the coffee on the conference table in front of Rose, then leaned over slightly, unfastened a button on his jacket, and sat down opposite her.

Tom took a seat next to him, sitting down heavily. “And so begins our lesson on the difference between criminal lawyers like my partner, and civil lawyers like me. He’s an obnoxious peacock, and I’m straight.”

Rose laughed.

Oliver shook his head, then glanced at Tom. “Same old jokes, over and over. You’re fired.”

“You can’t fire me, I quit, and we’re here for her.” Tom pointed an index finger at Rose. “So you’re married to Leo, the lucky bastard, and he knows Dean. I was in JAG with Dean’s brother. It’s lawyers all the way down. Let’s get started.” Tom looked over at Oliver with a crooked grin. “Should I clear the deck, first?”

“Oh, please. Not again.”

“Yes, again. Clean up time!” Tom stuck out his arm, placed it against the clutter of stapled briefs, newspaper clippings, and Xeroxed legal cases, then swept it off the edge of the table and onto the maroon rug.

Rose burst into laughter, and Oliver rolled his eyes behind his cool glasses.

“Rose, please, don’t encourage him. Now, you probably already know this, as a lawyer’s wife, but let me explain one thing at the outset. You need to see both of us this morning, a criminal lawyer and a civil lawyer, because criminal charges may be filed against you, by the D.A., and you may also be sued in civil court, for damages. They’re two different things. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Here’s how we’ll run this meeting this morning. Criminal law is more important than civil because locks and keys are involved. That means I’ll talk first, while Tom tries not to pick his nose. Still with me?”

“Yes.” Rose kept her smile, even though she didn’t like the joke about the lock and keys.

“We’re both familiar with your case. We’ve seen the TV and online video, but tell us what happened at school last Friday. Omit nothing.”

“Well, I was lunch mom,” Rose began, and told them the whole story, from the jelly circle to the debris she’d seen at the school last night. Oliver took notes on the laptop, and Tom wrote on a fresh yellow legal pad, pressing so hard that he embossed the paper with his handwriting. When she finished, she braced herself, managing a smile. “Okay, what’s the verdict, gentlemen?”