Lisa Scottoline - Killer Smile

“Okay,” Mary began, warming to being fascinating. Besides, it was fun to talk about Amadeo to someone who actually wanted to listen and who also happened to be totally handsome. The reporter told her his nickname was Mac, and she found herself telling Mac about the FBI memo from the National Archives and the circle drawings. He asked such good questions that she ended up telling him about the clothesline and the gift house, too, and by the end of their conversation, she had decided that Mac’s eyes were more French roast than espresso. They’d such a great time that she couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to ask her out.

“Well, thanks so much,” Mac said, switching off the tape recorder. The little red light went out, and he slipped the tape recorder back into the Jansport. “I have the making of an incredible story, thanks to you.”

“Really?” Are you going to ask me out?

“I called for a photographer to get a picture. He should be in the waiting room right now. That’s cool with you, isn’t it?”

“Now? Okay. Sure.” Mary figured she looked okay and she knew her eyes were terrific, both of them.

“Sweet. So you know what’s going to happen next, don’t you?” Mac rose with a smile and zipped his backpack closed.

Mary flushed. You’re going to ask me out? “No, what?” she asked, suddenly dry-mouthed.

“There is only one logical next step in your investigation.”

“My investigation?” Mary repeated, then held her tongue while Mac told her something that wasn’t asking her out at all and was so unexpected that for a minute she couldn’t speak. Then all she could say was, “Really, you think?”

“Of course. Why not? Don’t think about it, just do it. Keep me posted if you find out anything more.” Mac hoisted his heavy backpack onto his shoulder and went to the door, which was when Mary realized he had forgotten to ask her out.

“Wait a minute!” she blurted out. It was her heart talking.

“What? I’m kind of on a schedule. I have another assignment.”

Mary blinked, mortified. He wasn’t even thinking of asking her out. She considered asking him out, but she had never done that in her life and was sure it qualified as a venial sin. She felt suddenly like a fool. “Uh, what about the photographer?”

“I don’t stay for that. I told him what I wanted. Smile pretty. Ciao. ”

“Bye.” Mary let him go, and told her heart to shut up.

Mary and Judy sat side by side on one of the wooden benches that ringed Rittenhouse Square. The air was cool and sweet and the sky clear, so the park was packed with businesspeople having lunch. They filled the benches and sat on the concrete wall bordering the Square, men eating with their ties tossed over their shoulders and women balancing salads on purses in their laps, a lineup of Etienne Aigner tables. Everybody was enjoying the Spring day, except Mary.

“What do you think, Jude?” She leaned over, keeping her voice low so no one else could hear. “Why would the guy with the zits go to Amadeo’s? Why would Frank fire me? And why would Giorno sell a house to Amadeo at a loss?”

“ Marshall told me that the reporter was really hot,” Judy said, between mouthfuls. She looked almost normal in a jean skirt, a white T-shirt, and brown Dansko sandals. Her hair was combed smooth and its ersatz filaments caught the sunlight. She bit off an unladylike chunk of her hoagie while Mary poked at a scoop of tuna salad on anemic iceberg. Eating in the park was Judy’s favorite thing, but to Mary it was camping.

“What about what I’m saying? Aren’t you a little worried about me? What if I’m being followed?”

“Did he ask you out?”

Gulp . “Don’t be ridiculous. It was business. I think he’s married anyway.”

“Remember, you have a blind date tonight with my friend Paul. Give him a chance.”

“I’m not going, and what about what I’m saying? The Escalade and all. Aren’t you worried?”

“You’re not weaseling out of this date again. You’ve canceled on him twice.” Judy eyed her over the hoagie. “Now, how much did you tell the reporter? You might need damage control.”

“Basically, I told him everything about Amadeo,” Mary answered, but she was already wondering why she had told Mac so much. She felt pathetic. She slumped on the bench, watching a young man pass their bench. He was walking a puppy with a paintbrush tail that flopped back and forth.

“Did you tell him about the clothesline?”

“Yes.”

“What about the circle drawings?”

“Well, yes. He didn’t know what they were.”

“You showed him?”

“I thought he might have an idea about them.”

“They’re just doodles, like Cavuto said.” Judy had seen them and didn’t know what they were, either. “You didn’t tell him about the hair, did you?”

“Uh, yes.”

Judy moaned. “Did you ask to see his story before he files it? You’re supposed to.”

“Not really.” Mary’s appetite vanished. She closed the Styrofoam lid of her salad and put it back in the bag, to be stowed in the office refrigerator until she could throw it away untouched, three days from now. She couldn’t bring herself to waste food, at least not on time. “I know it might have been dumb, but I guess I just wanted to talk about Amadeo. It wouldn’t be the worst thing if he got a little attention. He deserves it.”

“He deserves it?” Judy set down her hoagie, shifted around, and faced Mary directly. “Mare, I understand that you went through hell when Mike was killed, but frankly, I think you’re getting a little nuts. Ever since Premenstrual Tom called, you’re like a freak.”

“You getting the TRO, right?” Mary asked, and Judy waved her off.

“Completely missing the point here. Let’s review. The Escalade is a very popular car. Files from 1942 should be gone. Lots of big guys have zits, and you don’t know that your big guy with zits was the one who went to the Korean lady’s house.”

“He asked about me!”

“He asked about someone, that’s all. Or maybe he’s interested in you and Brandolini. After all, a reporter got interested in you and Brandolini, and he’s not a killer. Jeez, at any given moment, three of your uncles are blabbing about you.”

“But what about the deed business?”

“Maybe Giorno did Brandolini a favor and took it out in fees. It’s not inconceivable that a lawyer would do that for a client, especially in that day and age. Maybe Giorno wanted to help him out. You said he owned a lot of property in South Philly.”

“What about Frank firing me?”

“Maybe he’s sick and tired of hearing about Brandolini all the time!” Judy shot back, so sharply that a man on the bench opposite them looked up from his roast beef special.

Mary felt stung. She didn’t say anything for a minute.

“Sorry.” Judy sighed, then leaned over, her forehead knit with worry. “Mare, usually I’m with you, but I have to tell you, you’re losing it. Going to Brandolini’s house, and the way you said you felt in his house. You’re running around with human hair in your briefcase! That’s creepy!”

“It’s part of the case file. It’s in my desk now.”

“Next thing you know, you’ll be holding a séance.” Judy wrinkled her upturned nose, and Mary flushed, defensive. Not that she hadn’t thought of it, last night when she couldn’t sleep. Judy continued, “You’re too immersed in this case, too immersed in the past. In old people and ghosts. Let it go, will you? That’s why I’m pushing the blind date.” Judy’s voice softened, almost to a whisper. “You are going out with Paul, girl. You have a lot in common. You’ll like each other. You need to move on .”