Lisa Scottoline - Killer Smile

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From Publishers Weekly
Scottoline's previous thrillers (Dead Ringer; Courting Trouble; etc.) have featured the women of the all-female Philadelphia law firm Rosato and Associates, and have concerned the usual elements of murder, stalking, bribery and corruption. This novel by the former trial lawyer and Edgar Award winner, while embracing the requisite ingredients, is especially engaging because of its personal angle: growing out of Scottoline's discovery of her own grandparents' alien registration cards, the book involves the case of an Italian-American who was interned during WWII. Amadeo Brandolini emigrated from Italy to Philadelphia, where he started a family and worked as a fisherman. When the war broke out, the FBI arrested and imprisoned him (along with 10,000 other Italian-Americans). He lost everything and wound up committing suicide in the camp. Rosato and Associates' young star, Mary DiNunzio, steps up to represent Brandolini's estate as it sues for reparations. Mary "grew up in South Philly, where she'd learned to pop her gum, wear high heels, and work overtime" and silently prays to saints when she can't find things. This case, a pro bono one, means a lot to her; the local small business owners and family friends she grew up with want retribution for Brandolini as much as she does. Mary puts all of her energy into the job, and when clues suggest Brandolini's death may have been a homicide, she becomes even more enthralled. As Mary learns more, the enemy camp (another Italian-American family, the Saracones) turns its murderous eye on her. Scottoline skillfully weaves a complicated, gripping and fast-paced tale, at turns comical, nerve-wracking and enlightening.

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Blind date hell . “Oh no.”

“I’m too hungry to wait.”

Good. Let’s call it a night.

“I say we find another restaurant.”

Oh . “Uh, okay, it’s too smoky here anyway.”

“I hate smoke, too. I quit smoking.”

Me, too. Wonder how he feels about Sinatra. Or Aerosmith. “Where else can we go? I don’t know this neighborhood that well. This is Bennie’s turf.”

“I don’t know it either, but we can go anywhere. I have a car. Come with me.” Gary turned around and plunged into the crowd, reaching back to clasp Mary by her good hand.

Hand holding? Mary let herself be tugged along, even though hand holding was a boyfriend thing, not a blind date thing. Still, it wasn’t an altogether unpleasant feeling. For once, she didn’t have to be in charge, and Gary took over very naturally. Maybe it was a stroke thing. Gary had them outside in no time, and Mary breathed in a gulp of fresh air. It was a lovely evening, the sky over the city darkening. Rush-hour traffic had died down, and there were only a few cars on the street. Just the same, Mary looked around, tense. There was no Escalade in sight, or anybody who looked like Chico or Justin driving any of the other cars.

“My car’s down the street,” Gary said. He released her hand, which she appreciated. A gentleman.

“Great.” Mary fell into step beside him. He was wearing tan slacks and loafers, and she took two little strides to his one long one, feeling like a windup doll.

“So, tell me about yourself, Mary.”

“Oh, there’s nothing to tell. I work for Bennie, I live in town.” And I hate talking about myself. “How about you?”

“Ha!” Gary walked with his head cocked, at listening angle. “You think you’re getting off that easy?”

Mary laughed. “I know I am. Now, let’s talk about you.”

Gary smiled. “So, you’re stubborn.”

“And you’re perceptive. Unfortunately.” Mary laughed again, vaguely aware that she might be flirting. But for once, she didn’t tense up. Maybe because she was outside? Maybe it was okay to flirt outside, where the flirting went into the air and didn’t land anywhere? At least it was dark. She tried not to think about it. “What kind of law do you practice, Gary? Bennie didn’t say.”

“You know, regular.”

Mary smiled. “You mean general practice?”

“No, I mean regular practice. Yes, I’m a regular lawyer. A regular guy.” Gary grinned again. They had reached his car, an older bronze Lexus, parked at the head of the line. He opened the car door for her grandly. “I drive a regular car. I even have a regular dog at home. Didn’t Bennie tell you?”

“Not a golden retriever, I hope. Our firm is lousy with ’em.”

“No, a mutt. A regular mutt.”

“What’s his name?”

“Joe. What else?”

Mary laughed as she climbed into the car and Gary closed the door gently. The Lexus interior was tan and smelled faintly of aftershave. A Norah Jones CD had been tossed onto the console and the cloth upholstery remained remarkably unfurry for a dog owner. “Either you’re a very neat guy or you don’t let your dog in the car,” she said when he climbed in the driver’s side.

“All of the above.” Gary turned on the ignition, gave the car some gas, and pulled out of the space. “So, you’re from South Philly, right?”

“Right.” You gotta problem with that?

“I love South Philly. We can eat down there if you want to. The Saloon, if you’re feeling classy, or Marra’s. South Philly Bar amp; Grill. Even Triangle Tavern.”

Mary smiled. “Any one of those is fine.” And not a website among them.

“How about Marra’s?”

“I love Marra’s.”

“Me, too. It’s a regular place.” Gary smiled, turning left onto the Ben Franklin Boulevard, where the traffic got heavier, funneling out of the city. They rounded Eakins Oval in front of the Art Museum, and Mary watched a herd of joggers running back from the river. A few couples walked together, carrying shopping bags, and businesspeople who worked late walked home, bearing briefcases or talking on the cell. It was a warm Spring night, and Mary pushed the button to open the window.

“I just put on the air conditioning.” Gary looked over. “Unless you want the windows open.”

“No, that’s okay.”

Gary turned the wheel, and the muscles in his forearm actually rippled. “You know, Bennie didn’t tell me you were so hot .”

Yeowch! Mary felt herself flushing. She was suddenly uncomfortable, being so close to him in the car, with him rippling and flirting. Plus they weren’t outside anymore, so there was no place for the flirting to go. Especially with the window closed. She felt nervous again as the Lexus picked up speed and curved onto the ramp for the expressway.

“I’ll take the expressway. It’s faster to hop on here and get off on Oregon.” Gary rested his large hand on the steering wheel and refocused on his driving for an awkwardly silent stretch. The car accelerated. Everybody always sped on this stretch of the expressway, near the old Vare Street exit, because they were leaving the city’s congestion for the open road. Mary’s gaze fell on the rearview mirror on her side of the car. In the darkness, she could see part of the chrome grille of a dark sedan, coming up behind them, fast. She couldn’t see the whole car in her parallax view, but she felt a tiny tremor run up her spine.

“Gary.” Mary edged up in her seat. “You see that car behind us?”

“The black?” His attention shifted to the rearview mirror. “Yeah.”

“It’s going kind of fast, isn’t it?”

“No, not really. You gotta keep up with the speed of traffic. My dad always says that.”

“But I think he’s going way too fast. He’s tailgating you.”

“Not really. Relax.”

“I can’t.” Mary couldn’t see the driver in her mirror, so she turned around in her seat, straining against the shoulder harness. On top of the grille glinted the slivery emblem of a Mercedes-Benz. Justin has a black Mercedes. “It’s a Mercedes!”

“Right. An SL. What a ride. If it’s the 500, it has a five-liter engine. One of the most powerful cars on the road.”

Oh, great. Mary was trying not to panic. The Mercedes was speeding up to them, but she couldn’t see the driver’s face in the darkness. “Is it a man or a woman driving? Can you tell?”

“No.” Gary looked in the rearview again. “Does it matter?”

“How long has that car been back there?”

“I don’t know. What are you worrying about?” Gary looked at her like she was nuts. “So he’s tailgating, so what?”

“Why would he? It doesn’t make sense.” Mary sized up the traffic, which was light as the road stretched out toward Jersey. “All the other lanes are totally open. Why doesn’t he just go around us?”

“I don’t know!” Gary laughed, softly. “Sit back down and relax, will you? I can’t drive with you popping around like -”

“How fast can this car go?” Mary blurted out, panicky.

“Fast. Not as fast as the SL, but fast.”

“Then lose this guy. If you can lose him, I’ll calm down. If you can’t, I’m calling 911.” Mary twisted back onto her seat, reached for her purse, and took out her cell phone, so it was ready.

“You gonna call the cops for tailgating ?” Gary’s mouth dropped open, but Mary was beyond explaining.

“Just go !”

“Okay, sit back and hold on!” Gary hit the gas, and the Lexus surged forward with surprising power.

Mary fell back in her seat. They barreled forward as if the highway were greased for them, whizzing past the Oregon Avenue exit. Dinner could wait. She tried to figure out what was going on. Chico had evidently changed cars. He had followed her to the restaurant. He was going to run them off the road or ram them. Poor Gary, mixed up in this. In the wrong place at the wrong time.

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