Lisa Scottoline - Lady Killer

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From Publishers Weekly
Philadelphia attorney Mary DiNunzio, last seen in Killer Smile (2004), agrees to help her high school nemesis, Trish Gambone, at the start of this less than convincing thriller from bestseller Scottoline. Trish, whom Mary used to regard as the quintessential Mean Girl, has turned in desperation to the lawyer, the all-around Most Likely to Achieve Sainthood at St. Maria Goretti High School, because she wants to escape from her abusive, and possibly Mafia-connected boyfriend, Bobby Mancuso. Trish rejects Mary's practical suggestions for dealing with Bobby, but once Trish disappears, Mary finds herself under pressure from other high school classmates as well as people from her old neighborhood who blame her for not doing enough. Mary unwisely hides a connection with Bobby from the Feds, who then shut her out of the search for Trish when they learn of it. Scottoline fans will cheer Mary as she stumbles toward the solution, but others may have trouble suspending disbelief.
From The Washington Post
Most mysteries have at least two plots: the murder or heist or conspiracy that gets things going, and the quest for a solution. Merging these two lines of action isn't always easy, and bad mystery-writing is often marred by coincidences that strain credulity. In Lady Killer, Lisa Scottoline finesses this problem by setting her tale in Italian-American South Philadelphia, where her protagonist, Mary DiNunzio, grew up and where the victims and suspects still live. If someone pops up at a convenient moment, the reader doesn't wince: Everybody knows everybody else in this tightly knit neighborhood.
Mary herself is one of the nabe's success stories: a lawyer who represents injured and wronged parties from families just like her own. She may be a bit chary of standing up for herself (as her best friend at the firm points out, Mary is enough of a rainmaker to deserve a partnership, but she can't seem to persuade the boss of her worth). In the courtroom, however, she's a tiger.
Having come a long way (figuratively) from South Philly, Mary is not pleased when the Mean Girls stop by her office: first Trish Gambone and later her acolytes, Giulia, Missy and Yolanda, all of whom made life hard for nerds like Mary in their years together at St. Maria Goretti High. They're the ones who dated the Big Men on Campus and mocked the kids who studied and took part in square activities like debate and student journalism, but they're now stuck in low-paying jobs and still wearing the miniskirts and excess makeup of their youth, while Mary flourishes. Even so, seeing them makes Mary wonder if she is "the only person who had post-traumatic stress syndrome – from high school."
Trish drops in on Mary to plead for help in dealing with Bobby, one of those former Big Men, now Trish's boyfriend. Except he has grown up to be a mobster who's in the habit of belting Trish when he gets angry and jealous; he does it craftily, though, giving her blows to the body rather than the face so that she's not a walking billboard for his brutality. Trish is scared that Bobby will carry out his recent threats to kill her, and Mary recommends going to court for a restraining order. Trish vetoes that idea because Bobby has been skimming money from his drug deals, and the notoriety of a court appearance could lead to his being whacked. When Mary can't think of any other solution, Trish walks out of her office in despair.
Shortly afterward, she goes missing, and the other Mean Girls blame Mary for stiffing their friend in her time of need. To make things right, Mary neglects her law practice while chasing leads all over South Philly and beyond.
In the meantime, Mary is getting to know Anthony, a handsome bachelor whose only drawback is that he's gay. This leads to some good quips: "Mary had been on so many blind dates that it was a pleasure to be with a man who had a medical excuse for not being attracted to her." But then new information develops. As Mary and Anthony find themselves having more and more fun together, only the dimmest reader will fail to guess that Anthony's gayness, like Mark Twain's reported death, is greatly exaggerated.
Scottoline brings her characters to vivid life, the two strands of her plot mesh seamlessly, and her sharp sense of humor makes an appearance on almost every page. About the only ingredient missing from her book, however, is a crucial one: suspense. It's a given, of course, that the protagonist/detective will survive in the end, but Mary never runs into any appreciable danger, and her creator fails to impart a sense of menace to the lives of any other characters. Lady Killer ends up being funny and stylish, but almost as cozy as an Agatha Christie novel. That's a hell of a complaint to have to make about a tale of the South Philly mob.

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“Pure bad luck.”

“Hmph.” Judy eyed the photo. “Check out the way he’s looking at you. He’s got the look of love, girl.”

“Don’t be silly,” Mary said, but felt herself flush. Anthony had washed their wineglasses and cheese plate, which raised new questions about his sexuality.

“Are you two dating?”

“We could have been, but I blew it, which isn’t what we need to talk about right now.”

Suddenly there was a noise outside in the hallway, then footsteps, then humming, and Mary and Judy locked wide eyes. They both knew what it meant. The boss.

“What’s she doing in so early?” Judy whispered.

“Damnit!” Mary whispered back. “Now I’ll never get out.”

“Think she’ll cuff us?”

“Not funny.”

“Calm down. She’s on trial. She won’t have time to talk. She’ll stick her head in to say hi.”

“So what do I do?”

“Say hi.”

In the next minute, Bennie materialized at the threshold in her trenchcoat, her hair drying in a wide tortoiseshell barrette. She held a Starbucks venti, which was when Mary realized that Bennie was a Starbucks venti.

“Hi!” Mary and Judy said, in unfortunate unison.

“Well, gee, hi, ladies.” Bennie’s eyes widened slightly, and she smiled. “How did you two beat me in?”

“We’re younger,” Judy said, and Bennie laughed.

“You look different, Carrier. What’s different about you today?”

“I’m very brown. Shades of brown, from the same brown family. Basically, I’m wearing meat.”

Bennie laughed again, then eyed Mary. “DiNunzio, I’m seeing you everywhere and getting calls from all quarters. You at the Roundhouse. You on TV and on the front page. What’s going on?”

“I’ve been a little busy, I guess.” Mary told herself to act natural, or failing that, less nervous than natural.

“Is this a criminal matter?”

“Yes. And, no.”

“Two matters, huh?”

Uh, no.

“Whom do you represent?”

Mary stalled. She couldn’t lie. It was wrong, and also she sucked at it. She decided to shade the truth, which would consign her only to purgatory, at least until that went out of business, too. “Trish Gambone. She came to me for a restraining order against her boyfriend. She’s the woman who was kidnapped.”

“That’s terrible.” Bennie frowned, alarmed. “So the restraining order didn’t do any good?”

“Uh, well, I didn’t get one.”

“You lost?” Bennie frowned, more deeply.

“No, as it happened, we didn’t go to court. This is from the other day. Those girls who came in and started the fight, remember?”

Bennie snorted. “I should have known. So why were you at the Roundhouse?”

“I had to give information about Trish to Reg Brinkley, if you remember him. He sends his regards. He’s that detective from the Newlin case, who helped us out.” Mary hoped that if she kept talking, she would use up the two seconds Bennie usually allotted for small talk. “He was the tall one, he’s black, and he loves jazz. In fact, he was telling me to say hi to you when I-”

“I remember Reg,” Bennie interrupted. “I read that the boyfriend, Mancuso, was found dead last night. He was connected?”

“Yes.”

“They’re talking about retaliation from within the Mob. None of this bodes well for your client. Our friend Reg has a tiger by the tail, trying to find her.”

“Luckily, he’s the man for the job.”

“Yes, he is. It’s not your problem, correct?” Bennie eyed her meaningfully as she sipped her coffee, and Mary shuddered. Being cross-examined by the boss was bad enough, but on espresso, it could be lethal. Judy looked like she was holding her breath, and Mary shook her head.

“Of course it’s not my problem,” she answered.

“I’m betting that you’re far too busy to be running around, if what you said the other day was any indication.”

Mary flushed. “I am. Far too busy.”

“Good.” Bennie seemed satisfied. “Anyway, I’d like you both to clear your calendars today, to give me a hand at trial. Last night, Anne got food poisoning at dinner with the client, and I’m putting on a slew of witnesses.”

Gulp. “Poor Anne.” Mary had to stall until she could think of a reason not to help. Or maybe the office would catch fire. “Where did you eat?”

“Muggy’s, on Walnut Street.”

“What did Anne eat?”

Bennie blinked. “Something that made her sick.”

“No, I meant, what was it she ate that made her sick?”

“Does it matter?”

“It would, if I were taking a client to Muggy’s.”

“Are you?” Bennie asked.

“Hell, no. Not anymore.” HELP!

Judy cleared her throat. “I can give you a hand, Bennie. I’ve got the whole day. You won’t need Mary if you have me.”

“No, I need you both.” Bennie turned to Judy. “Carrier, you’ll sit second-chair, in court. There’s about three hundred documents in this case, so I need the assist.” She turned back to Mary. “DiNunzio, I need you to prep witnesses for me. I’m starting our case in chief today. Can you free up?”

Mary froze.

“I know you’re busy, but it’s an emergency. All hands on deck.”

“I can’t do it,” Mary blurted out.

“Why not?”

“I have a meeting out of the office,” Mary answered, shakily, and in the background, even Judy started frowning.

“What kind of meeting?” Bennie asked.

“A meeting about a case.” Mary felt panic rising. She wished she had a Starbucks venti. She felt pretty sure she could lie better if she were sucking down a Starbucks. She would use her Starbucks for good, and not evil.

“What case?” Bennie asked, impatient. “And why do I have to take your deposition to find out?”

“You don’t,” Mary answered, though it wasn’t funny anymore. She didn’t have to lie. She wasn’t going to lie. She had a good reason to be doing what she was doing, and that was that. She straightened up. “I can’t help you today. I’m sorry. I have something important to do, and I have to get going.”

“But there’s work to be done here.”

“I have work, too, and I can’t drop it. It’s about Trish. She’s still missing, and I’m going to help find her.”

In the background, Judy’s eyes flared, and Bennie’s eyes narrowed.

“So it’s not a case. Weren’t you the one telling me you were so inundated with work? Now you can take a day off?”

“I know, I am inundated. But I can’t turn my back on this girl.”

“Your clients are firing you. Is this why?”

Mary felt stricken, wondering how she’d found out.

“I know what goes on here, DiNunzio. It’s my firm.”

“They’re firing me because they think I turned my back on Trish.”

“And you’re doing this for them?”

“No.” Mary shook her head. “I’m doing it for me.”

“Either way, it’s unprofessional and dangerous. Mancuso was in the Mob.”

“I’ll be careful.” Mary reached for her bag. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

“Don’t go. Your place is here.”

“I have to.”

“Are you walking out on me?” Bennie looked as angry as Mary had ever seen her.

“I have to go, Bennie.”

“But I forbid it.”

“I’m sorry.” Mary locked eyes with Bennie, in an interoffice version of the age-old struggle between parent and child. “I have no choice.”

“You always have a choice.” Bennie stiffened. “If you go now, then don’t come back.”

No. Mary felt stricken.

Judy yelped, “Bennie, really? She’s just doing what she thinks is-”

“Enough.” Bennie raised a hand, never taking her eyes from Mary. “DiNunzio, you’re either an associate here or you’re not. If you are, you’ll stay. If you’re not, you’ll go. For good.”

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