“Oh, whoa.” Declan grimaced. “So the cops think Simon killed Eddington? Damn. Now that makes sense.”
Bennie found herself on her feet. “Why? What would make you say that? You don’t know any of these people.”
“Common sense.” Declan shrugged. “Eddington fired Simon. And when Simon sued him for it, Eddington sued him back. That’s motive.”
“Poor Mary.” Bennie edged backwards, suddenly restless. “I need to get back to the city. She’s got a murder case on her hands. She hasn’t done that many of them.”
“Hold on. Think this through.” Declan rose, holding up a hand. “Like I just said, she’s not your problem. She’s a lawyer. She knows what she’s doing. Let her do it.”
“I can help. I’ll be backup, I won’t interfere, just let her know I’m there if she needs me. It’s not like we’re in conflict anymore. This isn’t a civil case, and Dumbarton isn’t on the other side. The Commonwealth is.”
“I know. But that’s not your problem.” Declan came toward her, touching her arm. “Babe. You can stay here. Relax for the weekend.”
“She’s got a tiger by the tail.”
“She didn’t call you.”
“She probably didn’t feel she could. Or she didn’t have the time.” Bennie thought a minute. “Just like you, when you offered me the loan. I didn’t ask for it, but you offered it. That was just kind. I appreciate that. I want to be kind to Mary. If she needs me, I’ll be there. I have to go.”
Declan sighed. “Okay. I understand. Good thing we had sex first.”
Bennie burst into laughter and gave him a big hug and a kiss. “I agree,” she said, meaning it.
“Take your veggie burger,” Declan said, kissing her again.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Mary followed the detectives, the remaining cops, and Simon, bringing up the rear as the group funneled into the narrow corridor that led to the Homicide Division. She knew she was taking a backseat but it was only for the time being. She would assert herself when it counted, once they got inside the squad room. She wasn’t the most experienced criminal defense attorney in the world, but she’d been involved in one or two murder cases, even one recently. She was no Bennie Rosato, but she could get the job done. She hoped.
She hurried down the corridor, which curved because the Roundhouse was three round sections put together, the source of its nickname. She was no longer surprised by the poor condition of the building: Fluorescent lights flickered, greenish floor tiles were grimy and broken, and the walls were of cheap paneling, circa 1960s. They passed the bathroom on the right, its door propped open by a trash can, and it smelled as bad as she remembered from last time. Every year, politicians talked about moving the department to a nicer building but it never happened, and Mary suspected the police needed a better lawyer. She would do it for free, for the public servants who kept her hometown safe.
The group reached the end of the hallway and went through a secured door next to a plaque that read simply HOMICIDE, then filled up the tiny entrance lobby, lined with rubbery black seats and wanted posters. Beyond the reception area was a front desk and a bustling, if cramped, squad room.
Detectives in short sleeves, their ties loosened, worked on ancient computers at battered desks, surrounded by mismatched gray file cabinets and bulletin boards with outdated memos, and bumper stickers for the Phillies and the Eagles. Windows with broken blinds lined the far side of the room and the air conditioners had a death rattle, so it was uncomfortably hot, and most of the detectives had little blue fans sitting on their desks, whirring away like so many toy airplane propellers.
Mary looked around for Detectives Randolph or Hilliard, whom she knew from Patrick’s case, but they weren’t in sight. She forced her way through the uniformed cops to Simon, putting a hand on his arm. Simon looked over, his mouth a tight line, and Mary knew him well enough to know that he was keeping a lid on his emotions. She never would have dreamed that he’d be a person of interest in a murder investigation and she knew he didn’t kill Todd, but she had to find out why he’d been called in. The detectives hadn’t told her anything more at the hospital and they had taken Simon in the squad car, so she hadn’t been able to talk to him either.
“Detective Lindenhurst,” Mary called out. “I’d like to meet with my client in an interview room before we talk.”
“Do you really think that’s necessary, Ms. DiNunzio?” Detective Lindenhurst turned around with a professional smile. “We’re not going to keep him that long.”
“I do think it’s necessary, but thanks.” Mary smiled back, equally professionally, then took a few steps forward with Simon toward the interview rooms on the right, a line of three doors cracked partway open. “Why don’t I just take him in and I’ll let you know when we’re finished? We won’t be long.”
“Fine, this way.” Detective Lindenhurst led them to interview room A and gestured them inside.
“I’m assuming this will be completely private,” Mary said to him, just to be sure. “Last time I was here, the videocameras weren’t working.”
“It still isn’t.” Detective Lindenhurst smiled, more naturally. “And yes, it will be completely private. Can I get either of you a water or a coffee? We got vending machine coffee. It’s better than it sounds.”
Mary knew it wasn’t. “No thank you.”
Simon shook his head, glancing around as they entered the grimy white box of a room, and Mary closed the door behind them, following his gaze to the stainless-steel chair that was bolted to the floor, which had a pair of handcuffs hanging loosely from one arm. Next to that were two black-plastic chairs and one white, a rickety wooden table, blank Miranda forms, and an actual typewriter.
“Simon, sit down and try to relax. Everything is going to be okay. We’re going to sort this out.”
“Oh God, I hope so.” Simon exhaled with a sigh, sinking into one of the chairs and putting his head in his hands.
“You’re doing a great job staying calm.”
“Thanks, I’m trying.”
“I called your father on the way here, and he said he’ll talk to your cousins.”
“Oh no, he must’ve freaked out.”
“He was upset, but he handled it, and he’s going to stay at the hospital tonight. So he’ll see you when we’re finished here.”
“Thank God Rachel was asleep when the cops came. I have no idea how I would explain it to her.” Simon raked his hair back. “Did you see the nurses? Jenny? Susan? Even Dr. Linda, that’s Rachel’s oncologist. I can’t imagine what they would be thinking. The cops searched me, patted me down, right in front of everyone.”
“They’re allowed to do that for their own safety.”
“It was so embarrassing. At least they didn’t handcuff me.”