Lisa Scottoline - Lady Killer

“Sure, and his brother might even be made.”

“There’s something to be proud of.” Mary started searching the kitchen drawers, which contained only ladles, silverware, and the like. While she looked, she tried to remember what she knew about his family. He had an uncle who had raised him and an older sister. She didn’t remember him talking about a brother, but most of their conversations were about school or the Gallic war.

“Anyways, we haven’t hung here for a while. My house is our hang.”

“I didn’t see Trish’s purse. Did you?” Mary thought that Trish’s big black bag would have stood out on the sea of white.

“I don’t see it, either.” Giulia frowned, looking around.

“I keep mine in the living room.”

“So do I.”

“Hers isn’t here, not that I saw. If it’s not upstairs, then she took it with her, which supports our theory, too.” Mary opened the next drawer. “She took her purse and coat.”

“Our workin’ theory is workin’!” Giulia grinned, and Mary went through the contents of the drawer, but it held only potholders and napkins.

“Doesn’t she have a junk drawer? I thought everybody had a junk drawer.”

“I dunno,” Giulia answered, just as Mary reached the last drawer and pulled it out. It was a mess.

“Bingo.” Mary rifled through the drawer, keeping an eye out for receipts or anything that might suggest where they could be. Or maybe even the diary Trish had mentioned, or the gun. But there was nothing inside the drawer except old Chinese take-out menus, Valu-Pak coupons, and a YMCA brochure, along with pencils, pens, matches, and more matches. “You were telling me about how they were in the beginning, and why it went wrong.”

“Okay, right. At first, T liked it he was connected, and we all thought it was cool. My husband’s got a plumbing supply business, and Missy sees a maitre d’ at Harrah’s. Yo broke up with a guy works the docks. T was the one who got the big catch.” Giulia leaned against the counter. “Least that’s what we thought, then.”

Mary kept looking in the junk drawer, but wasn’t finding anything, which made sense because she didn’t know what she was looking for.

“He was so crazy about her. He loved her since high school. T was everything to him.”

Mary felt a stab of envy, then caught herself. Was she really jealous of an abused woman? Lusting after a mobster? Had she lost her mind? She closed the drawer and reached for the phone, lifted the receiver, and heard an interrupted dial tone, which meant there were messages. Verizon was the most common Philly carrier; Mary had it at home, too. She pressed 00, reached a prompt, then turned to Giulia.

“What password does Trish use generally, do you know?” Mary asked. “I want to check her messages.”

“Try Lucy. She uses that for everything. It’s her mom’s old dog.”

“Thanks.” Mary pecked the keys, then the voicemail said that there was one new message. She pressed 1, but it was a telemarketer. She hung up. “Rats.”

“No luck?”

“Not yet.” Mary thought a minute. “Trish told me she kept a diary. That’s probably in her bedroom, right?”

Giulia frowned slightly. “No, she didn’t. She said that? You sure?”

“Yes. She had a gun, too, didn’t she?”

“Sure.” Giulia seemed distracted, her forehead creased slightly. “I don’t think she had a diary. She woulda tol’ me.”

“Do you know where she kept the gun?”

“No.”

“I’m wondering if she took it with her.”

“I don’t know. Prolly.”

Mary thought the gun and the diary would be upstairs. “Let me ask you something else. Where would he take her for her birthday? Which restaurant?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t like to take her out. He liked her home. It drove her nuts.”

“Okay, where does he go when he goes to work, or whatever Mob guys do?” Mary didn’t know much about organized crime and wasn’t going to pretend otherwise. “Where does he sell drugs?”

“I dunno. We never talked about it. She didn’t wanna know the details, and neither did I.”

Mary remembered Trish had said that. They don’t know the whole story.

“Once she told me that the boys hang at Biannetti’s, down Denver Street. But he never took T there.”

Mary made a note on an imaginary legal pad. AVOID BIANNETTI’S AND DENVER STREET. “Did she ever mention any friends of his in the Mob, or just guys he knew? Maybe Mob guys he hung with at Biannetti’s? Guys who might know where they went?”

“No. Like I said, we didn’t talk about it.”

Mary scanned the kitchen and dining room one last time. “How many bedrooms in this house?”

“Two, one and a half baths, no cellar.” Giulia frowned again. “I can’t remember the last time I was even upstairs. It’s like she’s not allowed to have girlfriends.”

“How can you get along without your girlfriends?” Mary was thinking of Judy, and Giulia smiled.

“For reals.”

“Did Trish mention any other friends she had? Maybe a friend who might know something about where they could be?”

“No way. She had us. She was loyal to us.” Giulia frowned, and Mary let it go.

“Did you check the bedroom? I’m curious to see if her clothes are missing. Or if there are any signs she packed anything, or he did.”

“I didn’t check.”

“Where does she keep her suitcase, do you know?”

“I dunno. We keep ours under the bed.”

“I’ll check that, too.” Mary filed it away. “By the way, where’s their computers?”

“He didn’t have one, I know that. She told me he never liked ’em. He said he had ADD.”

Mary thought back. He had been a poor student. He could have been undiagnosed, back then. “No e-mail or anything?”

“T had it.”

“I want to look upstairs.”

“I’ll go out and smoke.” Giulia turned, but Mary touched her arm.

“Wait, I have a job for you and the girls. I want you to go up and down the street and interview the neighbors.”

“Why?” Giulia frowned.

“When there’s a crime, cops canvass the neighborhood to find out what people saw. They interview them to get witnesses.” Mary walked into the dining room and picked up one of the photos from the credenza. “Take this with you. Show it to the neighbors when you talk to them.”

“Don’t need it. I got a picture of them in my cell phone.” Giulia’s eyes narrowed, so that with the eyeliner tattooing, they looked like two black dashes. “So what do I ask in this interview?”

“Ask people if they saw Trish last night, or recently. Ask if anyone saw them leave and if they were alone.” Mary was thinking out loud. “Ask them, what time was it? Did they carry suitcases? Did they leave alone in the BMW? Did someone go with them and maybe follow them? Did it look like she was forced? Did they hear any yelling last night? How about a scream?”

Giulia frowned in confusion.

“I’ll write it down for you.”

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Giulia reached into her purse for her cigarettes.

M ary entered the bedroom and flicked on the light switch, feeling oddly as if she were walking into her alternative life, the world of what-if.

He was so crazy about her. He loved her since high school.

She shook the thoughts off, disturbing as they were, and concentrated on the task at hand. A large king-size bed sat against the far wall, between two windows covered by closed shades. The bed’s black quilted comforter was completely flat and four zebra-print pillows sat in neat layers, but at the foot of the bed lay a heap of clothes. Mary picked up the top one. It was a woman’s sweater, black with silvery glitter scattered on one padded shoulder, reeking of smoke and perfume, and underneath it lay another sweater, red with tiny red beads in the shape of a heart. It had to be Trish’s clothes, and from the looks of it, she’d been trying to find something to wear at the last minute, or maybe packing to go somewhere.