Lisa Scottoline - Think Twice

“That’s it then.” Bennie flashed on her call with Marla. “I need to talk to someone at USABank.”

“It’s after hours.”

“I’ll want more than a teller. I met the president of the bank once. Ron Engel. He lives in Society Hill.” Bennie turned to Grady. “Do you have a cell phone?”

“No, it got wet.”

“Here.” A cop handed her a phone, and Bennie flipped it open and called information for Ron Engel.

“I’m sorry,” the operator said. “That number is unlisted.”

“This is a police emergency.” Bennie handed the phone back to the officer. “Please get the number and the address for Ron Engel. We have to talk to him.”

“Hello?” the cop said, putting the phone to his ear on the fly.

Bennie hustled out of the waiting room, ahead of Grady and the cops.

Alice kept swimming, getting her second wind. Her legs went rubbery but they were still churning. Her arms wind-milled. She was only fifty feet from Jersey. She swam ugly but she was getting there, stroke by stroke.

The fifty feet became forty, then thirty, and she looked up, wondering how to get up onto shore. There were dark industrial buildings ahead, with a crumbling stone wall lining the riverbank. She couldn’t see more through the rain. She swam like a demon, ignoring the downpour. She closed in on the stone wall, ten feet, then finally five.

She treaded water for a minute, her chest heaving. The wall crumbled in parts, and she finally reached it, grappling the edge with her fingertips. It felt slick and cold, and she groped for a ledge between the stones. She found one and tried to hoist herself up. The messenger bag was a dead weight but she couldn’t let it go. She slipped back down, splashing into the water.

She tried again. Her fingertips raked the stone. She found a grip and pulled herself up with all of her might. She started climbing, wedging her hands and toes into the cracks. She clawed her way to the top and flopped exhausted on top of the wall, then rolled over it into the mud and scrambled to her feet.

She hurried out of the shadows and ran across a parking lot. It was a deserted industrial stretch, and she hurried past abandoned cars rusting in place. She ran along the street, and ahead shone the lights and attractions of the Camden waterfront. Rain ricocheted off the asphalt. Stones dug into her soles but she kept running. There wasn’t much traffic, and a minivan sped past her, spraying water and grit.

A sign read WIGGINS PARK AHEAD, but it looked too far away. She didn’t have time to waste. She had to get to the airport. She couldn’t keep up this pace much longer.

A cab turned the corner, slowing at a stop sign, and she bolted for it, tore open its back door, and shouted at the woman passenger, “Get out!”

“Hey! What?” The young girl edged backwards in fear, her short dress riding up. “Help!”

The cab driver twisted around, startled. “Lady, what’re you doin’? This is my cab!”

Alice yanked the girl out by her elbow, then slammed the door closed. “Drive! There’s five hundred bucks in it for you!”

“Bull!”

“Drive, I said!” Alice stuck a hand into her soggy messenger bag, where the bundles of money sat in a pool of water. She grabbed one and waved it at the cabbie, spraying him. “It’s wet but it’s green.”

“Whoa!” The cabbie hit the gas. “Where we goin’?”

“To the airport, and hurry.”

Mary stood at Judy’s bedside while she rested, a greenish oxygen tube snaking her friend’s nose, an IV running to the back of her hand, and a plastic wire traveling to a clip on her index finger. She had gone into shock, but the bullet had only pierced her shoulder and she was going to be fine. Mary sent up a thankful prayer as her mother smothered Judy’s face with kisses.

“Ma.” She placed a hand on her mother’s soft back. “If you keep this up, she’ll need more oxygen.”

“ Jud’, Jud’, ti amo. ” Her mother smoothed Judy’s bright red bangs from her forehead. “ Ti amo .”

“Thanks.” Judy smiled and her weary gaze shifted to Mary’s father, who was attached to her hand more securely than the IV. “I love you guys.”

“WE LOVE YOU, TOO, KIDDO.” Her father patted her hand, and Mary smiled.

“Jude, your parents are on the way, and we told them you were okay. We caught them right before their plane took off.”

“Good. Thanks.” Judy sighed, and her eyes fell on Mary, at the foot of the bed. For a minute neither of them said anything.

“I’m so sorry,” Mary said, softly.

“What for?”

“For not believing you. For giving you such a hard time. For being such a bad friend. For almost getting you killed.”

“Guilt city.” Judy reached for her hand. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about.”

“Yes I do.”

“No, you don’t. It’s okay. Friends fight.”

“Not us.”

“Once every ten years, even us. That’s how we know we care. Agree with me, would you? I’m perforated, for God’s sake.”

“Okay. I agree.” Mary nodded.

“Where’s Bennie and Grady?”

“Off, after Alice.”

“Good.” Judy’s gaze shifted toward the door, which was opening.

They all turned to see who was coming in, including Mary.

Standing in the threshold was Anthony.

Bennie, Grady, and two cops, Officers Stern and Rigton, crowded onto the front step of the Society Hill town house, and the door was opened by a tall, bald man in a red plaid bathrobe, whom they’d clearly gotten out of bed.

“I’m Ron Engel, folks,” he said, extending a hand. “Officers, good to see you. Please excuse my appearance. Do come in.”

“Ron, hello.” Bennie had spoken to him on the phone but he’d insisted on seeing her in person. “Do you remember me? We met a few months ago, and I’m a private client of yours.”

“I remember you, yes. Come on in out of this weather.” Engel let everyone in to a well-appointed anteroom with a cherry console table, a sculptural ceramic lamp, and a Persian rug. “I made some calls to my team in private banking, in reference to this matter.”

“What’s happening?” Bennie asked. Grady stood next to her, but she didn’t pay him any attention. She wasn’t the woman he remembered anymore, anyway. “Ron, is Alice moving my money and how can we stop her?”

Officer Stern looked over, frowning under the wet bill of his cap. “Miss Rosato, we agreed we’d handle this.”

“You are,” Bennie shot back. “So am I.”

“To begin, I spoke with Legal about it.” Engel glanced at Officer Stern. “Officer, are we sure this is the real Bennie Rosato? I wouldn’t want to expose the bank to any liability.”

Officer Stern nodded. “This is Bennie Rosato. We expect to have Alice Connelly in custody tonight. At this juncture, she’s a fugitive from a charge of attempted murder, among other things.”

“Murder?” Engel’s graying eyebrows flew upward, and Bennie ran out of patience.

“I need to stop her from transferring that money.”

“We can’t. I’ve checked, and all of your accounts were already wired to BSB on Nassau.”

“All my accounts? Everything?”

“Yes.” Engel’s lips set. “The bank is not liable in this matter, because, as you know, Miss Connelly presented all the proper identification and she-”

“I’m not going to sue you,” Bennie interrupted. “Can’t we call the Nassau bank and prevent the transfer? Right now?”

“No. No one’s there, and the transfer is electronic and instantaneous. It goes through, regardless. It already has.”