“Ms. DiNunzio, these are facts, not speculation. We find the facts and we follow where they lead, and in this case, they lead to your client.” Detective Krakoff spread his palms. “As I mentioned to you, we have seen the videotape of the press conference. We know about the reverse-discrimination lawsuit that was filed against your firm. It quotes the victim stating a position contrary to the interests of the firm’s partners, of which Ms. Carrier is one. We believe that the fight that night concerned the victim’s statements in the Complaint and at the press conference. I think we can prove that, if we have to.”
Mary said nothing but told herself to stay the course, since she had answers to the questions. It wasn’t a great picture for the defense, but it was hardly airtight on the part of any prosecution.
“I know you haven’t spoken with the assistant district attorney yet, and I’m talking out of school, but I bet that he’d make Ms. Carrier a reasonable deal. She could plead out and get fifteen years.”
Mary masked her fear. It terrified her to think of Judy spending even a moment in prison. She felt herself break a sweat, not daring to look over at Judy. “My client has nothing to confess. She’s completely innocent, as she told you.”
“What about the videotape of her on the victim’s street?”
“The fact that you think you captured her on film doesn’t prove that it was her. Plus Old City is a busy neighborhood, especially on a Saturday night. There’s tourists, restaurants, bars, and clubs. It could’ve been anybody on the videotape, including a burglar whom John may have admitted, mistakenly.” Mary kept going, wanting to make him doubt his own conclusion, so they didn’t bring any charges against Judy. “Are there traffic cameras on both ends of the street? I don’t recall that there’s an intersection at the other end.”
“We’re checking into the other video cameras.”
“Then you jumped the gun, obviously. If you don’t have a camera at that end of the street, that leaves open the possibility that the killer could’ve come in by the other end of the street. There’s a myriad of other possibilities.”
“Like what?” Detective Krakoff’s eyes narrowed.
“There are other ways to access John’s apartment, Detective. In fact, I’ve been there myself, and I happen to know there’s a fire escape right outside the living-room window, in the back of the house.” Mary sensed she touched a nerve when Detective Krakoff’s brow furrowed just the slightest bit, a micro expression that gave him away. “John’s apartment is only on the second floor, and the house backs onto a narrow backstreet where residents park their cars. If I’m not mistaken, John parks there himself. Anybody could’ve entered through the back and not used the front door at all.”
“And what about the dog?”
“I don’t recall the last time a dog convicted anybody.” Mary reached for her purse. “That’s all, we’ll go. You don’t have enough to charge her because she didn’t do anything wrong. Judy Carrier is a partner in our law firm, which is one of the best in the city. She’s a skilled appellate lawyer and one of the most prominent members of the Philadelphia Bar Association. You can’t seriously think she would murder someone, much less an associate at our firm.”
“Come on, Ms. Carrier is hardly the conventional lawyer.” Detective Krakoff’s eyes strayed to Judy’s pink hair.
“How dare you,” Judy said, taken aback.
Mary felt anger flicker in her chest. “If you think that her hairstyle is going to convince any jury she’s a murderer, you’re out of your mind. You should be trying to find the real killer, not coming after my partner based on some tenuous connection with a reverse-discrimination lawsuit. We don’t kill people who sue us, Detective Krakoff. We beat them in court.”
“Hold on one minute.” Detective Krakoff reached his hand into his jacket pocket and extracted a pair of purple latex gloves, which he proceeded to put on, with some difficulty.
Mary didn’t know where this was going. “What are you doing, Detective? Am I dilating?”
Detective Marks burst into surprised laughter, then silenced quickly.
“Bear with me a moment.” Detective Krakoff reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a brown-paper evidence bag. “Ms. Carrier, before you leave, I’d like to show you an important piece of evidence. We found it in the victim’s apartment. We’d like to know if it belongs to you.”
“Fine.” Mary glanced at Judy, who seemed intrigued, so they stayed put. If Detective Krakoff had evidence against Judy, they needed to know it now rather than later.
“Give me another moment, please.” Detective Krakoff dug into the bag with one hand, making much of the process, as if he were intentionally keeping them in suspense.
Mary snorted. “Detective, we don’t have time for whatever game this is.”
“Here we go.” Detective Krakoff produced a small black-velvet box from the evidence bag, and in one fluid motion, he held it in front of Judy and opened the lid, as if he were presenting it to her. It was a ring box, and inside was a sparkling diamond engagement ring.
Judy gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh my God!”
“How dare you pull such a stunt?” Mary jumped to her feet. She grabbed Judy’s arm and hoisted her out of the chair, snagging her purse on the fly.
Judy burst into tears, losing control. “Oh my God, Detective, where did you get that ring?” she blurted out, heartbroken. “Where did you find that? Was that in his apartment?”
“Is this your engagement ring, Ms. Carrier?” Detective Krakoff stood up with a triumphant smile, holding the beautiful ring box in his outstretched hand. “I have the receipt for it, if you want to see that, too. He bought it three weeks ago.”
“That’s it!” Mary flung the door open and pulled Judy outside.
“He was going to propose to you, wasn’t he?” Detective Krakoff called after them, following them out of the interview room. “You were his girlfriend, weren’t you? I take it that’s a ‘yes’?”
Mary hurried a sobbing Judy out of the squad room and down the hallway, hustling for the elevator.
But even she knew it was too late.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Mary hustled Judy past the crowd of reporters, which had increased since earlier this morning. She assumed that they were at the Roundhouse for the double homicide in the Northeast, John’s murder, and any other sordid news crumbs they could get, but Judy’s outburst drew them like flies.
“Yo, what’s going on?” “Any comment?” The reporters shouted questions and raised video cameras and cell phones, recording audio and video. “Is that Judith Carrier?” “Ms. Carrier, what’s the problem, any comment?” “Is this about the Foxman murder?”
“No comment!” Mary shouted over her shoulder, putting her arm around Judy, who was trying to regain control, wiping her eyes. They hustled together through the parking lot to the street, and Mary looked for a cab with reporters chasing them.
“Mary, why is Judy Carrier here?” “Where is Bennie Rosato?” “What’s going on with the Foxman murder?” “Do they have any suspects?”
“I told you we’d make a statement later!” Mary shouted back, spotting a cab coming toward them, so she flagged him down frantically.
“Come on, Mary!” “What’s going on?” “This has to be about the Foxman murder?” “Do they have any leads?” “You’re not suspects, are you?”
Mary stiffened. She couldn’t leave that question unanswered. She had to think on her feet. She turned to the reporters. “Hold on, I have a comment.”
“They must have a lead, don’t they?” “What’s going on?” “What’s your comment?”
Mary waved them into silence. “Folks, we don’t know any more than you do. We met with the detectives and we hope they will find whoever killed our friend and associate, John Foxman. You can see for yourself the toll this is taking on us. We pray that the police will bring the killer to justice.”
“Ms. Carrier, any comment?” “Any comment?” “Any leads, Ms. Carrier?”
“She has no comment,” Mary answered for Judy, just as the cab arrived and parked at the curb. She flung open the door, stowed Judy inside, and jumped in, closing the door. “Driver, head toward Center City, thanks.”
“Got it, lady,” the driver called over his shoulder, hitting the gas, and the cab lurched into traffic heading toward the expressway.