Мэри Эндрюс: The Newcomer

He walked them as far as the airline’s curbside baggage-check kiosk and waited while the clerk checked Letty’s bags and issued their boarding passes.

A cop approached the truck on a Segway. Joe gave a sharp whistle, and the cop turned. “Gimme a minute, brother,” he called. “I’m saying goodbye to my ladies.”

He crushed Letty to his chest, with Maya sandwiched in between them. “I love you guys,” he said. He kissed Letty, surprised by the tears rolling down her cheek. “You never answered me,” he pointed out. “Do we have a deal? You’ll call? And I’ll show up?”

“Yeah,” she said, laughing. “It’s a deal. Goodbye, Joe. I’ll call.”

He kissed her again, his lips lingering on hers. “Hurry, okay?” he murmured. “Please?”

63

Five Months Later

“HAVE YOU SEEN THIS?”

The Manhattan assistant district attorney’s name was Mallory Kennedy. She wore a chic cream-colored business suit, her hair in a short, natural cut. She unfolded that morning’s New York Post on the tabletop.

MILLIONAIRE MURDERED HIS MISTRESS AFTER BABY MAMA DRAMA. A large color photo of Tanya and Evan, dressed to the nines for a charity fundraiser, accompanied the story.

“I’ve seen it,” Letty said, quickly folding the tabloid and handing it back. She nodded toward Maya, who was busily applying stickers to a new workbook Ava had mailed. “It was plastered across the front of the newsstand across the street from our building. I was terrified she’d see it.”

The diner’s door opened and Vikki Hill walked in. She dropped into the red vinyl booth beside Maya. “Hiya, Maya Papaya!”

Letty stared. The FBI agent was hardly recognizable. Her hair was swept into a tight French knot, she wore makeup, black heels and a close-fitting navy pantsuit.

“You came!” Letty exclaimed.

“Miss Vikki!” Maya said, grinning. “Do you live here too, now?”

“For now,” Vikki said, dropping a kiss on the child’s head. “When did you get so big? What are you, eleven or twelve now?”

“I’m five !” Maya said proudly.

“Almost,” Letty corrected. “It’s next week, actually, but we’ve been celebrating her birthday for the past two weeks.”

Letty touched the agent’s hand. “I still can’t believe you’re here. And you’re really going to go to court with us today?”

Vikki motioned to the waitress and held up her empty coffee mug. “Of course I came. I wouldn’t miss seeing you-know-who get his comeuppance.”

She looked over at Mallory Kennedy. “No nasty, last-minute surprises, right?”

“Not so far,” the assistant district attorney said. “But I won’t feel good about this sentencing until the judge signs off on everything.”

The waitress brought the coffeepot and filled Vikki’s mug, but Letty refused a refill. “I’m antsy enough. Any more caffeine and my head will explode.”

Vikki sipped her brew. “I still can’t believe you-know-who’s lawyer insisted on making Maya testify in court about what she saw that day.”

“It was horrifying,” Mallory said. “But as bad as it was for her, I think hearing her tell it, in person, had much more impact than a video would have. You should have seen the look on the jury members’ faces,” she told Vikki. “The foreman, this sweet, grandfatherly-looking guy, looked like he wanted to personally string up you-know-who.”

A second waitress bustled up to the table. Her left arm was covered in tattoos, and her short, vividly dyed red bangs made her resemble a pixie.

“Zoey!” Maya clamored, standing up in the booth.

“Sorry I’m a little late,” the waitress said. “Art was under the impression I wanted to work a second shift today and I had to straighten him out.” She untied her apron and stuffed it in her tote bag. “All ready to go, Princess Maya?”

“Yay!” the child said. She looked over at the FBI agent. “Would you like to go to the movies with us, Miss Vikki?”

“Maybe another time,” Vikki Hill said.

“Thanks again, Zoey,” Letty said. “I’ll call you when I’m done.”

“No hurry,” the waitress said. “I think we’ll go get our toenails painted after the movie.”

The three women watched as Maya, dressed in her sparkling blue princess dress, walked out of the Lazy Daizy, hand in hand with Zoey, before they got back to the business at hand.

“Wingfield’s lawyer saw the jury foreman’s face too, which is why he went to my boss during the recess and asked for a plea deal,” Mallory Kennedy said.

“Manslaughter, as opposed to first-degree murder,” she added. “I told Letty it was up to her, but I did recommend we make the deal, just to get it over with.”

Letty shredded a damp paper napkin in her lap. “I just had one condition. Evan has to admit that he killed Tanya. He has to sign a paper, or stand up in court and say it, or whatever, but I want him to say the words.”

“And he will,” Mallory promised. “His lawyer understands that anything else is a deal-breaker.”

Vikki nodded. “Up to twenty-five years in prison, right? How old is Wingfield now?”

“He’s forty,” Letty said. “My nightmare is that he could get out much sooner, though.”

“Not happening,” Vikki said succinctly. “We just executed a search warrant for all of Wingfield’s financial records. And it’s a treasure trove. He’s going down on the RICO prosecution. Bribery, conspiracy, bank fraud, tax evasion. And now that he’s pleaded guilty to the manslaughter charge, that means it was a predicate act in furtherance of the racketeering stuff. My boss is a very, very happy lady. Wingfield is nailed, big-time. And in addition to the criminal and civil penalties, the government will seize his real estate holdings.”

“What about prison time?” Letty asked.

“Well, the RICO prosecution could take another year or so,” the agent admitted. “But he can get up to life imprisonment, on top of the state charges. He’ll be an old, old man by the time he sees daylight again.”

“We’d better get moving if we’re going to get over to the courthouse in midmorning traffic,” Mallory said. She dropped some bills on the table and the three women went out into the glaring September sunlight.

The courtroom was a study in seasonal neutrals. The presiding judge sat on the bench in her somber black robe. Mallory wore creamy linen, and her counterpart, Evan Wingfield’s lawyer, was dressed in a conservative charcoal pin striped suit.

But it was Evan himself who commanded Letty’s attention. He was dressed in an orange prison jumpsuit and black rubber shower shoes. As he entered the courtroom, Letty took malicious satisfaction, noticing the halting gait that she felt sure was a result of Vikki Hill’s bullet. His hair was cut close to the scalp, and he looked stooped and gaunt. Without Evan’s favored trappings of wealth—the designer jeans, tailor-made dress shirts, and expensive Belgian loafers—he was a surprisingly ordinary-looking man, like an unnamed extra in a made-for-television movie.

Letty wiped her perspiring palms on her skirt. It was one of the few remaining items of clothing Tanya had gifted her over the years; a blue-and-white Indian block-print cotton skirt whose hem brushed her ankles. She wore it with a gauzy low-necked white peasant blouse and navy espadrilles, and a necklace of blue and green plastic pop beads fashioned for her by Maya.

The court clerk was reading a document now, and the judge was speaking, but his words seemed to be swallowed whole in the high-ceilinged courtroom. Mallory stood and she shot Letty a reassuring nod. She read her statement in her high, clear voice. Letty heard the words, but her ears buzzed with a sort of electric energy.