Lisa Scottoline - Everywhere That Mary Went

“You swear?”

“On a stack of Bibles.”

She laughs and wipes a cheek on her sleeve. “Swear on something else. Somethingyou believe in.”

I give her a quick hug. “Have faith. Now go.”

“Do you know how to get out of here?”

“Do you?”

Angie rolls her eyes. “I have to go. The gate’s over that way. Take care of yourself.”

“I will.”

She kisses my cheek, then runs off toward the convent. Midway down the garden path, she gathers her skirt into her hands so she can run faster.

“Way to go!” I call after her.

She looks back with a sly smile. Then off she runs, with her veil flying and her black wool leggings churning away.

Clouds of steam billow around me. The water superheats my skin. My blood pumps faster; my thoughts flow like quicksilver. I’m taking a steaming hot shower in Stalling’s locker room on the second floor, Anger.

How perfect.

I’m angry at myself, for rolling over like a puppy for whatever devil is out there, trying to hurt me. But no longer.

Angie was right. I preached to her to face life, but when I got scared, I ran too. But like Brent says, that was then and this is now. I had an epiphany as I drove back to the city, hurtling into a cloudless dawn on a Route I empty of travelers. I found my river, but its source sure as hell isn’t my faith in God. And it doesn’t flow with holy water, but with something closer to bile, at least right now. Whatever it is that drives me, it’s why I became a lawyer in the first place. Every day on my job I fuck back professionally for Stalling’s clients, and I like it. Well, I’ve decided it’s time to start fucking back for myself. I’m not going to run for my life anymore, I’m going to fight for it.

I twist off the water and step dripping out of the shower. I towel off and slip into a white linen dress that I keep in my locker. I dry my hair quickly, ignoring the blotches aflame on my chest. I unlock the locker room door and head for my office.

The big clock stares at me. 7:56. I stare right back. Lying abandoned on my desk is Ned’s bouquet of roses. They’re wilted, but still holding their perfume. I take a deep breath and toss them into the wastebasket. I try not to look back as I pick up the telephone receiver and punch in the numbers from the Rolodex. It turns out that Detective Lombardo answers his own phone.

“How’s your nose this morning, Lombardo?”

“Who is this?”

“Mary DiNunzio, remember me? The crazy widow? The one you tried to convince it’s all in her head? I saw Berkowitz clean your clock, Lombardo, and I want to know why.”

“Mary, jeez. It’s not…you gotta ask Sam, I can’t say any more.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s confidential.”

“What about this investigation could possibly be confidential from me? Brent was my friend. Mike was my husband.”

“Let me get my jacket off, okay? I just got in. Christ, you’re worse than that Amazon you sent over.”

“Amazon?”

“Your friend Carrier. She came in here last night and read me the riot act. What is it, you both on the rag?”

My blood boils over. “You got a house, Lombardo? A car? You like your job? Your pension?”

“What?”

“So how come you didn’t investigate this matter when I first made a report?”

“What are you talkin’ about, Mary? You never made a report!”

“The hell I didn’t, you must’ve lost it. So it’s your word against mine. Which would you believe-that the young widow is a filthy liar or that a city employee lost a form? Please. It’s not even close.”

“You would-”

“My memory is crystal clear. I came down to the station. We met. I told you about the car that was following me and my secretary. The next day he’s dead, hit by the same car I warned you about. You ever been sued, Lombardo?”

“What’s this all-”

“You were negligent, pal. You denied me my civil rights. I’m gonna take your shitty little house and your car. I’ll garnish every paycheck you ever get.”

“Don’t you threaten me!”

“I’ll make your life a living hell. I know how to do it, you understand? It’s my job. I’m a lawyer.”

“Now wait a minute-”

“Brent was gay, maybe that’s why you didn’t investigate. You can always tell, that’s what you said. And something else, something about your brother being ‘light in the loafers.’ I love that colloquial stuff. It’ll look so good in the complaint. It lends realism, don’t you agree?”

“You’re crazy!”

“A line like that, could be the newspapers will pick it up. In fact, why leave it to chance? I’ll send them a copy of the complaint-maybe ten copies, to play it safe.”

“I don’t have to listen to this.”

“Yes, you do. You do have to listen, Lombardo, and you will if you’re smart. What I need from you is protection. Low-profile confidential protection from whoever’s trying to hurt me. I want you to do your job, so I can do mine. I want you to watch me at Stalling-”

“Now how am I gonna do that?” he explodes. “They’d recognize me. I couldn’t pass for a lawyer!”

“Put somebody else on the inside. You figure it out.”

“You’re safe at work. Everyone’s around.”

“Waters is here, Lombardo. If he’s the one-”

“Oh, this is rich! Change your mind about your boyfriend?”

“I’m taking no chances. You have to watch me here.”

“No way. I’ll cover you on the outside, but that’s it! I’ll put my buddy on Waters-on the outside. You call me on the beeper when you leave and when you go in. You work only during business hours, when everyone’s around. Your Amazon friend, you stay with her. After work, you go straight home. You got it? For three days.”

“Two weeks.”

“Four days.”

“Ten days.”

“Seven,” Lombardo says, finally. “That’s it. That’s all I’m doing. I’ll be damned if I’ll put a tail on every nervous Nellie in this city!Goddamned! ”

“Did you just cuss? In front of a lady?”

“I gotta go. I got a real job to do.”

“Not so fast. I need something else.”

“Jesus.”

“Information. Those files you told me about, the ones on Mike and Brent. Where are they now?”

“AID has ’em. I shipped ’em back. But you can’t get ’em.”

“Why not? They should be public record.”

“Not when the investigations are open. They’re not gonna give you an open file. Brent has all my notes, all the investigation notes, what leads they’re following-”

“That’s why I want it.”

“You can’t get it.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“Seven days, Mary. That’s it.”

“And this is confidential, Lombardo. That we talked, that I’m investigating the files. All of it. I don’t want Berkowitz or anybody else at this firm to know about it. Understand?”

“I have better things to do.”

“Thank you. And have a happy day.”

Lombardo hangs up with a bang.

I hang up and exhale. So far, so good. While I’m still on a roll, I pick up the receiver and punch in four numbers.

“Mr. Berkowitz’s office,” Delia says.

“Hi, Delia, it’s Mary. Is he in yet?”

She hesitates. “Come on up.”

I bound up the stairs to Pride. Delia isn’t at her desk when I stalk to Berkowitz’s office, but the door is open slightly. I grit my teeth and burst in. And come face to face with the Honorable Morton A. Weinstein, the Honorable William A. Bitterman, and the Honorable Jeremy M. Van Houten, all of whom are sitting directly across from Berkowitz and looking rather startled.

“Oh…my. Oh.”

“Mary! Why don’t you come in and meet some of the hard-working members of the Rules Committee?” Berkowitz says heartily, as if I were expected. The three judges rise to their feet. In fact, they’re popping up and grinning, for me.