The restaurant was a few blocks from the funeral home, and the shaken circle of family and friends went there together, on foot and by wheelchair. The trip seemed to settle everybody down, and by the time they reached the restaurant, they were shown to a lovely private dining room, where a long banquet table had been set with arugula-and-goat-cheese salads and abundant antipasto platters of cold cuts and cheeses.
Mary’s parents, The Tonys, the Hodges, and Judy sat down with William on the end in his wheelchair while Mary, Anthony, Bennie, Anne, Lou, and Marshall hovered over them, making sure they were okay. The Hodges sat close to each other, their lined faces masks of grief and sadness. They were otherwise an attractive and refined couple with gold wire-rimmed glasses and fluffy gray hair, and they looked well-heeled in dark wool suits. Feet had found his Mr. Potatohead glasses, but he seemed upset, and Pigeon Tony and Tony-From-Down-The-Block hadn’t bounced back yet, since they hadn’t even touched the salami-and-pepperoni antipasto.
Bennie asked the waiters to keep water, wine, and beer coming, and Mary got her father a whiskey and a Band-Aid, which she and her mother used to cover the cut on his forehead. Luckily, it wasn’t serious, so Mary’s blood pressure returned to normal, and Anthony put a hand on her shoulder.
“Mary, please sit down. You need to get off your feet.”
“I will in a minute.” Mary patted his arm, noticing the redness on his hand from punching the protester. “How’s your hand, honey? I can’t believe you hit that guy.”
“I can’t either.” Anthony forced a smile, pulling out her chair. “Honey, please sit.”
“Thanks.” Mary sat down, eyed her father. “Pop, you sure you’re okay?”
“I’M FINE, DOLL.”
Mary still felt so angry. “That was Machiavelli’s doing. Every time we think he’s hit rock bottom, he gets lower. So it’s not just the press he’s sending after us, it’s protesters. It’s an outrage.”
“I KNEW IT WASN’T JOHN’S REAL FRIENDS BECAUSE THEY WERE INSIDE WITH US. I’M JUST SO EFFIN MAD AT THAT BASTARD—OH, SORRY, EXCUSE ME.” Mary’s father glanced at the Hodges, but Mel waved him off with a polite smile.
“Matty, I’ve heard worse. We might be Minnesota nice, but I served in Vietnam. Now, who were those protestors? Why do they think Judy killed John? What conspiracy are they even talking about?”
Judy’s face reddened. “It’s so awful, it’s a fraud.”
William looked up at Judy, his head jittery. “Judy? Was that real?”
“No, not at all.” Judy frowned, patting his clenched fist. “They’re lying.”
Mary could see Judy was upset, so she took over. “William, it’s not real, and Mel and Susan, those people don’t really care about John. They don’t even know John. They were sent there by a lawyer named Nick Machiavelli. He must have paid them to make a scene, for the cameras.”
“Really?” Mel’s hooded eyes widened behind his trifocals. “Why would he do such a thing, at John’s memorial service?”
“Because he wants to make us look bad. He’s got a thing against us and our firm. He’s suing us, accusing us of John’s murder, and now he’s out of control, practically waging war against us.”
“HE TRIED TO PICK A FIGHT AND HE GOT ONE. HE ACCUSED MARY OF MURDER ON TV. I SAW IT WITH MY OWN EYES. WE’RE NOT GONNA TAKE THAT LYIN’ DOWN. WE GOT A FAMILY NAME, AND IT STANDS FOR GOOD, NOT LIKE HIS.”
Feet snorted. “Hell, no. We’re not letting him get away with this. He picked on the wrong guys.”
Tony-From-Down-The-Block sipped his beer. “We’re already tryin’ to get him back from what he said about Mary. We’ve been diggin’ into him, big-time. Tryin’ to get the dirt.”
“You have?” Mary asked, looking over in surprise. Between them, The Tonys and her father knew almost everyone in South Philly and they could have turned up something useful. Or something ridiculous.
Bennie frowned at Mary. “DiNunzio, we shouldn’t talk about this now. I’m sure William and the Hodges would rather relax and eat something. Machiavelli and his proxies don’t deserve another moment of our time.”
Mel interjected, “It’s okay, Bennie, I’d like to know what’s going on. We’d rather not make small talk. We’ve thought of nothing but who could have murdered John. It’s shocking that this man is accusing Judy, or any of you, of being his killer.”
Susan nodded, her expression drained. “I go over and over it in my mind, asking myself how anybody could have done that to him. He was such an intelligent, gentle soul, like my sister. Bennie, do the police have any suspects? You’re not truly a suspect, are you? Or Judy?”
“Let me fill you in, briefly,” Bennie answered, then brought William, Mel, and Susan up-to-date on everything, ending with her theory of the burglar. Mary didn’t correct her to add Shanahan because that would upset William, nor did she say anything about her suspicion that Machiavelli was behind John’s murder because she didn’t have any proof. Mary knew from her own experience that speculating wouldn’t help William and the Hodges bear their burden. No one but a crime victim could understand what another crime victim went through, to endure not only a murder, but its aftermath.
Mary turned to Bennie. “Those protestors were the last straw, as far as I’m concerned. Machiavelli’s playing by his own rules, and we’re playing by Roger’s rules of Zen. And it’s resulting in what happened today. They ambushed us. I think we need to fire Roger.”
“I would normally agree with you, but we can’t fire him now. Your interview’s tomorrow with the Human Relations Commission. You can’t go in unrepresented.” Bennie’s phone rang in her pocket, but she ignored it. “That’s probably Roger calling.”
“Then we find somebody else overnight, it’s not impossible. Or we postpone. Because this isn’t working. We’re so civilized, we don’t fight back. We have to let them know that we’re onto them and that we won’t take it.”
“BENNIE, I GOTTA BACK MARY UP, NOT ’CAUSE SHE’S MY KID. MACHIAVELLI, HE DON’T PLAY FAIR. YOU ACT ALL NICEY-NICE AND HE’S GONNA TAKE ADVANTAGE.”
Judy blinked, dubious. “Mary, I agree with you but it’s not practical. Not with your interview tomorrow.”
Mel shook his head, the deep lines in his forehead buckling. “Ladies, I don’t know much about the law, but I know about war. You have to fight fire with fire.”
“I’M WITH YOU, MEL. THIS IS HOW THIS MACHIAVELLI FAMILY ACTS. BELIEVE ME, I DONE SOME ASKIN’ AROUND ABOUT THEM. EVERYBODY IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD’S GOT A STORY ABOUT THEM. THEY CHEAT PEOPLE, THEY STIFF PEOPLE, THEY GOT NO RESPECT.”
Bennie’s phone kept ringing, so she slid it out of her pocket and checked the screen. “It’s Sanjay, not Roger. We should take this.”
Anne rose. “Let’s step away.”
Mary and Judy stood up. “Excuse us, everybody,” Mary said, touching Anthony on the shoulder, and they crossed to the wall, huddling around the cell phone, which they put on speaker.
Bennie said into the phone, “Hello, Sanjay, yes we’re fine, thanks.”
“Good.” Sanjay sounded relieved. “We were concerned for your safety. The crowd was out of control. It looked as if the older people got in harm’s way.”
“Fortunately, they’re fine now, Sanjay. Thank you for asking. We have you on speaker and we’re safe and sound at the restaurant.”
“Oh, okay.” Sanjay’s tone hardened. “I’m glad to hear that you’re all safe, but Jim and I have decided to let you go as counsel. Our mind is made up.”
Mary’s heart sank on an already terrible day. “Sanjay, no—”
Anne sagged against the wall. “Sanjay, can I ask why?”
“Anne, I know you worked hard on the case, but we just cannot be involved in this public relations nightmare for another minute. You may not have had a chance to look online yet, but the videos and stills are a disaster. We’re in some of the pictures. My wife freaked. Everybody’s calling us to see if we’re okay. We have to explain that we’re caught up in a fight with people attacking our lawyers. We have to draw the line.”