Lisa Scottoline - Lady Killer

“Only thing is, he knows how to use one and I don’t. Alls I got to help me shoot straight are the Pink Sisters.” Trish laughed sadly, an abrupt break in the stormclouds. “You remember the Pink Sisters?”

“Of course.” Mary managed a smile. The Pink Sisters were a cloistered order of nuns in the Fairmont section who would pray for you if you slipped a request in their front gate. They had gotten Mary through the bar exam, her wedding day, and her husband’s funeral. She asked, “When did you go to the convent?”

“I didn’t. They have a website that takes prayer requests now. You believe that?” Trish smiled, wiping her eyes, and Mary felt a flicker of closeness to her.

“Incredible. And did you hear there’s no more limbo?”

“I know, right?” Trish smiled again, and the moment passed, her beautiful face falling into fearful lines, her forehead wrinkled with anxiety. “It’s hell, Mare. I’m walkin’ on eggshells all the time. Yesterday he told me he’s got a big surprise for me on my birthday. That’s today.”

Yikes. “Happy Birthday.”

“Yeah. Real happy.” Trish’s lower lip trembled, but she maintained control. “This is why I hadda see you, I’m outta my mind. I think the surprise is he’s gonna propose, and if I say no, he’ll kill me. Tonight.”

Mary had heard enough. She set down her legal pad. “Trish, you don’t have to live like this another minute. On these facts, especially with your diary, we can get you a restraining order. The court requires a reasonable fear of imminent danger, and we can go over there right now and-”

“No, I can’t do that.” Trish’s reddish eyes flared with new fear. “I can’t go to court.”

“Why not?”

“He’s connected.”

“To what?”

Trish snorted. “Where’d you grow up? Duh.”

Whoa. Mary felt stricken. Everybody in South Philly had a love/ hate relationship with the Mob, but her relationship was more hate/ hate, except when it was hate/terrified.

“He deals drugs for them, heroin and coke.”

Mary took mental notes. I’M NOT HEARING THIS.

“Also he’s takin’ a cut on the down.”

“What’s that mean?” THE MAFIA DOES NOT EXIST.

“Takin’ money. Skimmin.’ If they find out, he’s dead. They don’t play that.”

THE MEDIA CREATES A VICIOUS STEREOTYPE OF ITALIAN-AMERICANS.

“I never sleep anymore. Alls I can see is them breakin’ down the door, shootin’ us both up. He’s not made, so we got no protection. He’s playing craps with my life. If he don’t kill me, they will.”

IT’S ALL TONY SOPRANO’S FAULT. ALSO AL PACINO’S.

“And, trust me, he knows how to use that gun.”

YOU DIDN’T JUST SAY THAT.

“I don’t know what to do.” Trish’s voice thinned with fright. “I’m dyin’ here. What do I do? You get my problem?”

“Yes-it’s how do you break up with a mobster, right?”

“Right!” Trish wailed. “It’s, like, no-win. What do I do? I’m trapped.”

Mary’s thoughts raced ahead. “Hold on, not yet. How about we go to the cops? I’m sure you have information they could use, and we can get you into the witness-protection program-”

“Are you nuts?” Trish fairly shouted. “He’ll kill me. They’ll kill me!”

“You can’t be sure of that.”

“I’m sure, believe me. What are you, stupid?”

Mary let it go. There had to be a solution. “You sure you won’t go to court? We can get the protective order and-”

“They’re not worth the paper they’re printed on.”

“But maybe he’d pay attention to it, knowing you’d haul him into court. He certainly doesn’t want that exposure.”

“He’d kill me before I got there. Wise up! You’re not helpin’!” Trish started to get upset again, her eyes welling up.

“Stay calm. We can figure this out. How about you get out of town? Just go.”

“Where’m I gonna go? He’ll find me wherever I go.”

“No he won’t.”

“Yeah, he will, and what do I do when I get where I’m goin’?” Trish threw up her hands. “What’m I supposed to do? Leave my mom, my friends, my job? It took me years to build up my book at work. I don’t wanna leave my life.”

“Your life is on the line, Trish.”

“It won’t work anyway, Mare. He’ll find me. He won’t stop until he does.” Trish edged forward on the seat. “Mare, don’t you get it? Nothin’ you’re sayin’ will work. The man is an animal, and you’re talkin’ law!”

“I’m a lawyer,” Mary said, nonplussed.

“Well, the law isn’t helpin’! You’re smart, think of somethin’!”

Mary wracked her brain. “Okay, wait, listen. If you don’t want a legal solution, then I’m telling you what I’d do. Go far away. Take a vacation. I’ll even lend you some money.”

“This is what you’re tellin’ me, Einstein? Get outta town?” Suddenly Trish leaped to her boots. “How’s that different from the witness protection?”

“It’s not like witness protection, that’s forever. I’m saying just go for a while, a month or two.” Mary rose behind her desk, softening her tone. She’d never seen Trish have a moment’s self-doubt, much less a meltdown. “By the time you come back, he’ll have cooled down and-”

“It won’t work. He loves me. He’s obsessed. He’s not gonna get over it, Mare.” Trish shook her head, then covered her face with her hands. “I can’t believe this is really happening. I can’t believe this is my life. He was so sweet, so great, in high school. Why didn’t I see it then?”

“Stay calm, Trish-”

“We always thought we’d get married, everybody did.” Trish uncovered her face, and her skin was flushed with emotion, her eyes frantic. “How did I get myself into this? You remember how nice he was? How sweet?”

“I don’t know him.”

“Yes, you do. He went to Neumann.”

Great. Bishop Neumann, Goretti’s brother school, was graduating mobsters now. Mary wished for her legal pad. WONDER WHAT HE GOT IN RELIGION?

“What was I thinking?” Trish raked manicured fingernails through big hair. “I thought I was so lucky. He was the hottest thing. We were so in love.” Then Trish said his name.

Oh my God. Mary’s heart stopped. The room slipped out of focus.

Trish was saying, “We dated in high school, senior year, remember?”

So did we.

“I broke up with him but then I went back. What a mistake. He was obsessed with me even then, I used to think he was so romantic. Now I know he’s crazy.” Trish kept shaking her head, then stopped abruptly. “So what are you tellin’ me to do, Mare?”

Mary snapped out of it. “If you won’t leave or go to court-”

“I can’t! He’ll kill me! Tonight!” Trish hollered, full bore, all of her anguish channeled now to rage. “And you’ll sit there and do nothin’!”

“The only way out is-”

“I need help! Help me!”

“I’m trying but-”

“Screw you, Holy Mary!” Trish exploded. “That’s what we all used to call you, you know that? Holy Mary, Mother of God! Little Miss Perfect, that’s you! Thanks for nothin’!” She whirled around, grabbed her purse, and stalked to the door, then flung it open and left.

“Trish, wait!” Mary went after her, but Trish was running down the hall toward the reception area.

“Please, wait!” Mary almost caught up with her, but let her run for the exit stairs when she saw a surprised receptionist and a waiting room full of uncomfortable clients, all of whom were hers. There were Dawn and Joe Coradino and daughter Bethann, a well-dressed family from Shunk Street; Jo-Ann Heilferty, whose new yard needed regrading; and Elka Tobman, who wanted a new business incorporated. They’d heard the shouting and were waiting for an explanation. Mary collected herself and managed a shaky smile. “Dawn and Joe, the doctor will see you now.”