CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Anthony drove with Mary in the passenger seat and Bennie and Judy in the backseat. Anne and Lou had gone home, leaving Mary and the others snaking through the city streets in the darkness. Mary didn’t know what Bennie had done after she went through the barricade, but somehow it had resulted in their leaving hurriedly for the Roundhouse, the police administration building. Mary wasn’t sure it was a great idea, and Anthony probably felt the same way, though she hadn’t had a chance to ask him. But like most wives, she could read her husband’s mind.
Mary cleared her throat. “So Bennie, why did you go through the barricade?”
“I still don’t get why you didn’t follow me. I thought you guys would follow me.”
“We tried, but they wouldn’t let us.”
“I was hoping we could get into the house.”
“But that’s not police procedure. It’s a crime scene. They don’t let anybody through the perimeter.”
“I know, but I wanted to give it a try, together, as a group.”
“You mean like storm the house?”
“No, talk our way in,” Bennie shot back. “Like we always do.”
“So what did you say?”
“I grabbed the first cop I saw, and told him I was a lawyer and needed to see the detectives on the case, so he took me to them.”
“And that got you through?” Mary asked, incredulous.
“He thought I was an assistant district attorney.”
“You told him you were an ADA?” Mary would’ve laughed on any other night. Judy stayed quiet in the backseat.
“No, but I implied it, or rather, he inferred from the circumstances.”
“What circumstances?”
“DiNunzio, you’ve worked enough murder cases to know. A lawyer who arrives at a crime scene in the middle of the night? Every cop in the world assumes that’s an ADA. All I had to do was act important, and I can do that in my sleep. In fact, I do.”
Mary suppressed a smile.
“So then he took me to the detectives in charge, and they were young guys I don’t know. Detectives Krakoff and Marks. I told them we were willing to give them a statement, so they said fine.”
“Why did you do that?” Mary asked, confounded. They all felt miserable tonight, shocked over John’s murder, and maybe Bennie had lost her mind. It really was true that everybody grieved differently.
“It’s obvious, isn’t it? I want to get into the Roundhouse and nose around. I want details.”
Mary didn’t know if she could handle the details of John’s murder, but she didn’t say so. “But why tonight? Couldn’t we have waited until they asked us to come in, instead of provoking it?”
“Nothing benefits from delay, DiNunzio. It’s always better to get the jump. And you know in any murder investigation, facts can develop early on. Besides, I want to talk to them before they know enough to ask us better questions. Once they figure out about the lawsuit and the statements John made, this could get sticky.”
“I don’t know if we should be going in unrepresented.”
“We’re lawyers. We know how to handle a police interview, we’ve defended plenty of them.”
“What about Roger? We told him we would play nice.”
“I called him earlier, but this is a murder case, not a reverse-discrimination case. He’s not our lawyer for all things and all times.” Bennie snorted. “If you want, I’ll text him where we’re going. I’m not about to carry him on a sedan chair.”
“Don’t we want his PR guy, too? Isaac?”
“I don’t, but if you do, I’m fine with their coming. We know how to handle the press in a murder case. Basically, don’t feed them. And don’t flip them the bird, even if you want to.” Bennie paused. “Look, DiNunzio, I just realized, I should’ve thought of your condition.” Her tone softened. “You must be beat and you should probably go home. Why don’t you drop me off? I can do my own snooping.”
“No, that’s okay,” Mary said, with a twinge of regret. She felt bad for saying anything, and secretly, she didn’t want to miss out. Anthony looked over, his mouth tight, so Mary added, “I actually feel fine. I’m not even tired. I don’t want to go home.”
“Carrier,” Bennie said, again softly. “You can go home too. I know this is roughest on you. You guys were pals.”
“Thanks but no,” Judy said, her voice thick. “I don’t want to go home, either. I wouldn’t sleep anyway.”
Bennie asked, “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Mary answered, firmly. “I’m just trying to understand why you’re doing what you’re doing. What you hope to accomplish.”
Bennie fell silent a moment, and Mary wasn’t sure Bennie had heard the question. Mary glanced back, but Bennie’s face was turned away, and Mary couldn’t see her expression. The only lighting in the backseat was intermittent, from the streetlights.
“Bennie?” Mary repeated. “Are you okay?”
“DiNunzio.” Bennie turned to face her, and Mary could see Bennie’s eyes glistening with raw emotion. “I’m doing what I’m doing because somebody killed one of my associates. One of our associates, a young man who joined our firm and worked hard for us. I’m doing it because he mattered to me. His life mattered to me. And so does his murder.” Bennie wiped her eye quickly, catching a tear before it fell. Her fingers were trembling, which was something Mary had never seen before, but Bennie kept talking, the words coming out with a force of their own. “I’m pretty good at murder cases. I’ve been doing them for years, and so have you. So I’m not going to sit on my thumbs and let two rookie detectives screw this up, or miss something, or forget even a single detail. I’m going to be all over them from day one. From now. Until they find who committed this murder. That’s why I went through the barricade. I heard you say Foxman has no family here, but you were wrong. We were his family. And even though we had a family fight, that doesn’t mean we’re not family anymore. That’s why we’re doing this. For him.”
Mary felt a lump in her throat as Bennie turned her head quickly away, looking out the window. Silence fell in the car, and Mary realized how wrong she had been back at the crime scene. She had thought Bennie had been defaulting to professional mode on John’s street. Instead Bennie had been keeping her emotions within, channeling them into action to find John’s killer. Mary felt touched at Bennie’s devotion and loyalty, but she couldn’t say so right now. She tried to hold back her tears, and for some reason, she didn’t look over at Anthony. She knew he felt the same way she did, because she was his wife.
Mary looked out the window as they passed the gritty industrial area around the concrete cloverleafs to I-95, interspersed with boxy warehouses and factories converted to funky apartment buildings. In the distance, the Ben Franklin Bridge glowed a ghostly blue in the dark night. They made their way through the streets cruising in light traffic through the grid of one-way streets. They went west on Market Street past the United States Courthouse, a modern monolith that anchored the corner of Seventh and Chestnut Streets, then turned onto Seventh, catching sight of the round concrete buildings that gave the Roundhouse its name.
Anthony shifted into the left lane, heading for the Roundhouse’s parking lot, and as soon as they got to the entrance, Mary could see the crowd of media collecting in front of the building with their klieglights, video cameras, and the same crowd of reporters from the crime scene. Their white news vans with tall microwave towers overflowed the press section of the lot, but Anthony found an empty space and parked, cutting the ignition.
Mary braced herself, eyeing the noisy throng of press. “So we just go through and say ‘no comment.’”
“Yes,” Bennie answered firmly. “No fear, DiNunzio. We’ve done this a million times. Just put your head down and keep walking.”
Anthony interjected, “Don’t worry, Bennie. If they want to get to Mary, they’re going to have to go through me.”
“That’s the spirit.” Bennie rallied. “Everybody good to go?”
“Not yet,” Judy answered hesitantly, then she fell abruptly silent.