“Mary, give it up!” Machiavelli threw up his manicured hands. “I didn’t kill him, and you can’t prove I did. You have no evidence.”
“I have a video!” Mary blurted out, raising her voice. She hoped she could parlay it into something more. Maybe she could trick him into confessing. “It shows Stretch leaving the apartment by the fire escape. Or you!”
“It can’t! I wasn’t there and neither was he! Where’s the video? At the office? I want to see it!”
“No, right here!” Mary got her phone, scrolled to the text, and set it on the table, playing the video. She knew it wouldn’t deliver, and the very thought made her want to throw up. Machiavelli leaned over to get close to the phone, and Flavia adjusted her glasses. They all watched the video in silence until the end, when the shadowy silhouette climbed out of the window and vanished.
“Ha!” Machiavelli laughed, cruelly. “Mary, that doesn’t show anything. That could be anybody. It could even be a woman. You can’t tell anything from that.”
“Mary, he’s right.” Flavia eased back into her chair, troubled. “I don’t understand. Is this why you think it’s Stretch? It’s just a shadow. You can’t see a face.”
“Flavia, it’s Stretch, I know it is, I just can’t prove it. I know they did it, and you’re in denial because it’s Nicky.” Mary began to feel nauseated, but she didn’t know if it was physical, emotional or both. She put her hand on her belly, but the baby wasn’t moving.
“Let me see that again.” Machiavelli picked up Mary’s phone, watching the video closer. “There’s nothing here. It really could be anybody.”
“No, it’s Stretch.” Mary wiped her brow, newly damp.
“Wait. Look, Mary.” Machiavelli pointed excitedly, freezing the video, enlarging it even further, and showing her the screen. “See that bump, on the killer’s left wrist? Maybe it’s a woman, wearing bracelets, with, like a pendant or a charm. It could be a woman in pants.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Mary tried to focus on the video, and since it was enlarged, she saw what Machiavelli meant. There was a small bump on the shadow’s left wrist, visible only when the killer opened the window and his sleeve rode up.
“Or it could be a man with a big watch, who wears it loose. A man’s watch, but oversized—”
“Like Nicky’s.” Flavia pulled up her son’s sleeve to reveal a clunky stainless-steel watch. “I gave him this watch, but lots of men have them. The murderer could be a man with a big watch like Nicky’s.”
“My Panerai?” Nicky said, with a note of pride. “I love this watch. It’s a real diver’s watch, designed for the Italian Navy. I don’t wear it loose, but maybe the killer did. He could’ve been wearing another type of big watch.”
“You did it, not Stretch! It was you!” Suddenly Mary felt terrible. She didn’t know what was wrong with her, then she felt a rush of warmth in her underwear.
“Mary?” Flavia squeezed her arm. “You’re so pale. What’s the matter?”
“Um, I think I need to go to the doctor.” Mary rose, nervous.
“Nicky, get her to your car!”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
“Is the baby okay?” Mary asked, her heart in her throat. She lay on the examining table in the examining room, holding her breath while Dr. Foster read a long continuous paper graph inching out of a fetal monitor machine, which sat next to the examining table on a rolling cart. A plastic fetal heart rate monitor and a contraction sensor had been taped to Mary’s belly, as soon as she had gotten to the office.
“The baby is fine.” Dr. Foster smiled, looking up from the tape. Her heavy black glasses slipped down her nose, and her pearl earrings matched her long, white coat. “The heartbeat is normal and steady.”
“Thank God!” Mary felt tears come to her eyes, but held them back.
“You had a scare, but it’s over now.” Dr. Foster came to Mary’s side, letting the monitor tape drop.
“But the baby hasn’t been kicking for, like, a day and a half.”
“I know, you told me, and that can be worrisome. It doesn’t always mean something.”
“But the spotting? This is the second time.”
“Again, I’m not overly worried, but I think it’s time for you to go on restricted activity, for two weeks. Stay home, off your feet for a week. Then check back with me.”
“You think?” Mary couldn’t process it fast enough.
“Yes, I know your job is important to you. But I play it safe, always do. You told me how active your day was yesterday and today. I’m hearing that you’re very busy.” Dr. Foster frowned. “I even saw you on TV the other day, in the middle of a mob scene. It was all I could do not to text you.”
“What you saw was a protest after a memorial service. A friend of mine was murdered. It’s just been such a busy time, and everything is so important.”
“My condolences.” Dr. Foster nodded gravely. “And believe me, I understand that you have a lot of things to juggle, all important. Welcome to motherhood.”
Mary managed to smile, wiping her eyes.
“But that doesn’t change my orders. Please stay home for two full weeks. Then call me and come back in. We’ll see where we stand.” Dr. Foster smiled in a professional way. “You’re going to be here for a few hours. I want a full reading, so we have a complete picture. So rest now, and we’ll keep monitoring the baby. After you leave today, go directly home to bed. I’ll have the receptionist tell your friend that you’ll be awhile longer.”
“My friend?” Mary hadn’t called Judy or Anthony in Boston, because she didn’t want to alarm them until she knew what was going on.
“Your colleague. The guy in the waiting room.”
“He’s here?” Mary hadn’t thought that Machiavelli would wait. He’d dropped her off at the doctor’s office, parking his big Mercedes-Benz illegally. They hadn’t spoken on the way here, since she’d been disgusted to be in such close quarters with him. “He’s not my friend. In fact, he’s my enemy.”
“Really?” Dr. Foster gave her a final pat on the arm. “He’s pretty worried about you, for an enemy. He’s already asked the receptionist about you twice. With enemies like that, who needs friends?”
Mary managed a smile, because she couldn’t say, oh yes, he’s a prince of a murderer. “Dr. Foster, would you do me a favor? Could your receptionist tell him to leave? I can get a cab home.”
“Are you sure?” Dr. Foster checked her watch. “It’s the end of the day, rush hour. You might not get a cab so easily.”
“I’ll be fine. He’s the last person I want to see right now.” Mary hadn’t had a choice on the way here, but she sure as hell had a choice on the way home.
“Okay, I’ll tell her.” Dr. Foster nodded. “I’m going to leave you for a while. I’ll come back later to check on you.”
“Thank you so much.”
“Be back in a bit.” Dr. Foster left the examining room, and Mary took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. She rested her head back on the crinkly paper, keeping an eye on the spiky graph as the tape kept ticking out of the monitor. The razor-thin black line remained basically flat until it peaked like a tiny mountain range, and she saw that it came at regular intervals, a sight that eased her to her marrow. She sent up a prayer of thanks, that the baby was still okay.
Mary’s attention stayed glued to the graph paper, and suddenly she felt drained and exhausted. She had been so active lately, too active, even if she hadn’t been pregnant, and she felt it catch up with her, as she lay there. She looked away from the monitor, so she wouldn’t obsess, and scanned the mint-green walls, the pretty floral watercolors, and the inspirational poster. I SET MY WORRIES ASIDE AND LET MY BODY DO ITS JOB.