Judy turned away and traveled ahead, pushing William toward the lovely scene, and Mary found herself standing still, watching them go, hearing Judy chatter and William giggling as they walked along.
Mary sank into the bench, trying to imagine how he would bear the news that John was gone, and she felt new rage at whoever had killed John. The killer had taken John’s life—and William’s lifeline. They were the true victims, this tiny, lopsided Foxman family, formerly only two members, now only one.
Mary watched as Judy and William reached the pond. William kept pointing to the ducks, but Judy leaned over talking to him, then sat down on the cedar bench and turned his wheelchair around, so that he was facing her. Judy leaned over, her face close to William’s as she spoke, and though Mary couldn’t hear her words, she witnessed their impact.
William cried out in pain, then hunched over crying, his spiny back and clenched fists shaking with sobs, and Judy enveloped him in a weepy embrace of her own.
And that was when Mary made a vow.
To find out who killed John.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The afternoon sun stalled in the hazy sky over South Philly, and Mercy Street was typically sleepy on Sunday, with nobody out except for a few neighbors in plastic chairs on the sidewalk, which had all the charm of a concrete beach. Mary stood with Judy at the front door to her parents’ house, hesitating before they went inside. Mary wouldn’t have come home for Sunday dinner but for the fact that Judy had begged her to, after the heartbreaking afternoon with William. Mary had called her parents on the way to town, and they’d been delighted to have her home. Mary had texted Anthony that Judy needed some girlfriend-time, which he understood. Plus he’d had enough carbohydrates for the week.
Mary put her hand on the doorknob, eyeing her best friend, who looked heartbroken and exhausted. Her eyes were puffy from crying, and even her happy pink hair had dulled. “Judy, are you sure you want to go in? This is your last chance to come to your senses.”
“Totally, I want to. You know I love your parents, and they’re exactly what I need tonight.”
Mary could hear the sound of the Phillies game coming from the TV inside, at maximum decibel levels. “Did you remember that my father shouts when he talks?”
“That’s how I know he loves me. When he screams.”
“My mother’s going to hug and kiss you. And fill you with carbohydrates in mass quantities.”
“Yes, I want her to feed me. Literally, with a spoon. I want her to feed me, hold me, rock me, and maybe even burp me.”
“MARE, JUDY? IS THAT YOU? COME IN ALREADY! WHAT’RE YOU WAITIN’ FOR?”
“Coming, Mr. D!” Judy sidestepped Mary and her belly, opening the screen door. “Mr. D, I need a hug!”
“JUDY, COME ’ERE, DOLL! IT’S BEEN TOO LONG!” Mary’s father bear-hugged Judy, and Mary entered the living room, loving that her parents adored her best friend. From day one, they had made the tall, countercultural Northern Californian an honorary DiNunzio, even though Judy stood out in this family like a lighthouse among tugboats.
“JUDY, WHAT’S A MATTER, HONEY? IT’S ALL GONNA BE AWRIGHT. WE’LL MAKE IT ALL BETTER.”
“Mr. D, I missed you!” Judy burst into tears, and Mary’s father held her tighter.
“DON’T WORRY, DOLL. IT’S GONNA BE AWRIGHT. EVERYTHING’S GONNA BE AWRIGHT.”
“Jud’, Jud, che cosa, cara!” Mary’s mother scurried from the kitchen on her black orthopedic shoes, drying her hands on a cloth dish towel, her flowered housedress flying. She threw her short arms around Judy, who melted into her embrace, too.
“Mrs. D, it’s so terrible, everything is so terrible!” Judy clung to Mary’s mother, who stroked her back and soothed her in Italian, which Judy didn’t understand at all, but it didn’t matter. In time, Mary’s parents calmed Judy down, guided her into the kitchen, and placed her in a chair at the table, which had been set for Sunday dinner.
“JUDY, DRINK SOME WATER. YOU’LL EAT, YOU’LL FEEL BETTER, YOU’LL SEE.” Mary’s father eased into his chair, and Mary’s mother hovered over Judy, clutching her arthritic hands in front of her.
“Thanks, guys.” Mary put an arm around her mother and kissed her fragrant hair cloud, which smelled of old-school Aqua Net and fresh tomato sauce. “Judy needs some love, Ma.”
“Si, si, Jud’, di’ me.”
Mary sat down, comforted to hear her mother say di’ me, her favorite Italian expression, which meant tell me. She had grown up in a family that loved to talk, but it also loved to listen, and for that, she was so grateful. Judy was closer to Mary’s family than her own, and Mary was thrilled to lend Judy her parents’ listening ear, even if it did have a hearing aid.
Judy sniffled, wiping her nose with a napkin, then launched into the story, catching Mary’s parents up on the facts that John had been murdered, that she had been dating him, that the police had found the engagement ring, and that they had just come from delivering the bad news to William, which was when Mary’s father had teared up behind his bifocals.
Mary’s mother had listened to every word, as she managed to serve dinner, which was a plate of steaming ravioli with slow cooked tomato sauce and broccoli rabe glistening with olive oil, garlicky enough to leave an aftertaste for days, until it finally left Mary’s body via her pores. Judy wolfed down her meal as she finished the story, which did Mary’s heart good. If Judy was eating, sooner or later, world order would be restored. But what preoccupied Mary was John’s killer.
“MARE, YOU UPSET, TOO, AREN’T YA?”
“Yes, I am.” Mary pushed her plate away, since she had eaten for three. “I can’t imagine who would kill John. I want to touch base with Lou and see if he found out anything. I called him and Bennie, but I haven’t heard back yet.”
Judy looked over, miserably. “They would’ve called us if they found anything.”
Mary knew it was true as soon as Judy said it. “So what do we do tomorrow? Just business as usual, with all this going on?”
Judy nodded sadly. “We have to, we have no other choice. You have a deposition to defend in London Technologies. The show must go on—until I get arrested.”
“JUDY, JESUS, GOD! DON’T SAY THAT! THEY CAN’T DO THAT! YOU DIDN’T KILL NOBODY! YOU NEVER WOULD!”
“Che, che?” Mary’s mother asked irritably, just as some car commercials started blaring on the TV in the living room, making it harder for her to hear.
“Ma, I got it, don’t worry.” Mary rose, went to the living room, and picked up the remote, about to turn off the TV when the screen changed with a teaser for the evening news, but the lead story showed a picture of Nick Machiavelli. LAWYER CLAIMS KNOWLEDGE OF SUSPECTS IN SLAYING OF CENTER CITY ATTORNEY, read a banner under the screen.
“Judy, come in here quick!” Mary shouted, appalled, and Judy hurried into the living room, followed by Mary’s mother and father, who stood in a shocked circle around the television.
A female anchorperson was saying, “Our lead story tonight involves bombshell allegations by Center City attorney Nick Machiavelli in connection with the murder of fellow Center City attorney, John Foxman. We take you now to Attorney Machiavelli’s offices, where he is speaking live with our reporter…”
Mary froze as Machiavelli appeared on the screen, interviewed in his office, behind his ornately carved desk. He was leaning forward earnestly, his hair slick as an oil spill and his manicured fingers linked in front of him. He gave the appearance of being honest and believable, unless you knew better, which Mary did.
“The police claim they have no suspects in the murder of John Foxman, but they’re covering up the truth. I’m calling on them now to expose the conspiracy that I believe exists behind John Foxman’s murder. Because it is my opinion that he was killed by the partners of the law firm of Rosato & DiNunzio.”
“What?” Mary said, astonished.
“Did he say conspiracy?” Judy’s eyes flew open.
“HE SAID YOU DID IT!”