“Yes.” Flavia straightened in the chair, lifting her chin. “I wasn’t born yesterday, Mary. I’ve been through a lot, more than you know. So tell me straight.”
Mary decided to level with her. “I think that Stretch might’ve murdered John Foxman, a lawyer at my firm. And I think Nick might have told him to.”
“Murdered?” Flavia gasped, her lined hand flying to her lips. “That can’t be. Nicky wouldn’t do that.”
“I think he would. And I think he did.”
“No, no, no.” Flavia shook her head, jittery, placing both hands on her papery cheeks. “He’s done a lot of things, but not that. A beating is one thing, but a murder, no. Not that, not murder.”
“I know, it’s awful. But I have good reason to think so and I’ll tell you why, quickly. Nicky owns companies that make a lot of money, and to protect them, he filed the lawsuit against me and my partners—”
“The one he talked about on TV?” Flavia frowned deeply, trying to recover her composure. “I told him he shouldn’t of said that about you on TV. I told him that wasn’t nice. I knew it wasn’t true. You could tell he was lying when he said it. He doesn’t even believe that. I could tell.”
Mary thought Flavia was right, but didn’t say so, since the big picture was so much worse. “More importantly, I think Nick had Stretch kill John, to get rid of the lawsuit against his companies.”
“I can’t believe it.” Flavia shook her curly little head.
“I can.”
“Did you go to the police?”
“Yes, but they don’t think Nicky is behind it. They think somebody else is.”
“Thank you, sweet Jesus.” Flavia looked heavenward, clasping her hands together in prayer.
“But I don’t agree with them and neither do my partners.”
“Why?” Flavia frowned.
“All of the facts point to Nick and Stretch.”
“We’ll see about that.” Flavia leaned over, slipped an iPhone, from her pocket, and began to make a call.
“Wait, what are you doing?”
“I’m calling my Nicky.”
“Wait, what?” Mary hadn’t seen this coming. “You can’t just call and ask him if he had somebody murdered.”
“I know that. Shh, I don’t want him to know you’re here.” Flavia set the phone down and put it on speaker, and when the call connected, the screen changed to read BABY BOY. “Honey, how you doing?”
“Good, Ma,” Nick answered, his tone more affectionate than Mary had ever heard. “How’s my Baby Girl?”
“I’m fine, honey. Can you come over?”
“Sure, I’m in the neighborhood. Be there in five minutes. You need anything?”
“No, just come home. And don’t talk on the phone when you drive.”
“Okay, love you.”
“Love you, too, honey.” Flavia pressed the button to end the call, and Mary willed her heartbeat back to normal. She didn’t know what was weirder, that Flavia was calling Nick to ask him about John’s murder or that their nicknames for each other were Baby Girl and Baby Boy.
“Flavia, I don’t know what’s going on.” Mary thought of her plan, going to hell now that their cover was about to be blown.
“What don’t you understand? I’m going to ask my son if he had Stretch kill your friend.”
“His name was John,” Mary supplied, as if they were singing the birthday song and didn’t know the name of the birthday boy. “Flavia, this is a murder case. You just can’t ask somebody if they’re responsible for murder.”
“You can if you’re his mother.”
“But I didn’t want him to know that I was onto him.”
“So?” Flavia looked at Mary directly, from behind her round bifocals. “He’s going to find that out sooner or later, if you’re going to accuse him.”
Mary had no immediate reply, since it was true. “But he’s going to lie to you. He’s not just going to admit it. He’s going to say he had nothing to do with John’s murder.”
“I can tell when he lies,” Flavia stated, as if it were a scientific fact.
“Flavia, with respect, no, you can’t.”
“Yes, I can.
“You’re not a lie detector.”
“I’m better than a lie detector. I read the newspaper. I know they’re not reliable.”
Mary thought she might have a point there too. “So you really think you can tell when he’s lying?”
“I know I can. I know him better than anybody in the world. I carried him for nine months, just like you.” Flavia gestured at Mary’s belly. “You’ll see, when you have that baby.”
“What will I see? What do you mean?” Mary’s hand went to her belly, but the baby still wasn’t kicking, so the chocolate chip hadn’t helped. She was going to call the doctor, after this debacle was over.
“Nobody knows a child better than its mother. Let me tell you something. You may not always get along with your child. You might fight with your child. You might not speak to your child for a year, maybe two. But a mother always knows her child.”
Mary couldn’t buy in. “But every day on the news, you see mothers saying what a good boy their son is, when he’s a killer. Like Conchetta thought you were.”
“But I didn’t say that about Nicky, did I? This mother knows her son, the bad and the good.” Flavia waved her off. “And those mothers on the news, the ones you were talking about? They’re not lying to themselves. They’re lying to the camera. They know the truth, inside. They know it in their heart. They can’t bring themselves to say it out loud.”
Mary blinked, thinking Flavia was either a genius or completely delusional.
“I know that boy. I raised him on my own. His father was never around. That’s why he listens to me.”
“But you said before that he doesn’t listen to you.”
“On the important things, he does. I’m the only one he listens to, and it doesn’t get more important than this. Murder is a mortal sin.” Flavia leaned forward urgently, placing her wrinkled hand on the polished table. “I would never believe he could do that, or have Stretch do it, but I’m going to ask him, right to his face.”
Mary didn’t know if it was a good idea, but it was about to happen. “I guess it can’t really do any harm. He’s going to find out I suspect him sooner or later.”
“Like I said.” Flavia cocked her head. “Anyway, what is it with you and Nicky?”
“It’s like he has it in for me. He’s tried to do me in, so many times. It’s like he’s out to get me.” Mary didn’t add that Machiavelli had also tried to kiss her, in his office.
“It’s on account of he’s so confused, like his father.” Flavia shook her head.
“What was his father like?” Mary had never met the man.
“Don’t get me started. I shoulda left him so many times, but I kept the family together.” Flavia rallied. “Nicky has a crush on you. He always has, from high school. He told me. He always liked you.”
“He never told me.” Mary wasn’t completely surprised, given that kiss, but still.
“I think he’s acting out to get your attention, for all these years. Like in the olden days, when the boys put the girl’s pigtail in the inkwell. He told me you were out of his league.”
Mary felt relieved to be considered too good for a murderer, but didn’t say so.
“Now, he can’t take it that you’re having a baby, that you married Anthony. You said no to him, and he’s used to getting what he wants.” Flavia sighed. “I spoiled him, that much I did. He thinks he’s entitled.”
“Well, he’s not.”
“I know.” Flavia’s face fell into deeply sad lines. “It’s gone too far.”
“Yes, it has,” Mary said, which was the understatement of the year, since they were talking about John’s murder. “I’m not kidding around, Flavia. You and I, we’re both adults. I’m telling you, right now, that I think Nick killed my friend John and I’m not going to let him get away with it. He’s not entitled to commit murder. I want to put him away.”
Flavia fell silent a moment, then looked at Mary evenly. “I agree with you. And if my Nicky committed murder, or had Stretch commit murder, I’ll help you.”
“You will?” Mary asked, astonished. It was the right thing to do, but she didn’t know many mothers who would say as much, in her position.
“Yes, I will.”