Accused: A Rosato & Associates Novel (29 page)

Tony-From-Down-The-Block nodded. “Matty, it’s good you called his son. That’s the only family he has, right?”

“No,” her father answered quietly. “He has us.”

Touched, Mary looked over at her father. His head was tilted slightly downward, and he was rubbing one battered thumb over the top of the other. His hands were beat up from a lifetime spent setting tile, and he used to say his grout was like sugar. To look at her father’s hands was to see his life story, and she realized that he and his friends experienced a hospital emergency room in a very different way than she did. She wondered if her father were thinking about life and death right now. Her throat caught, and she reached out for his arm and gave it a warm squeeze.

Suddenly, a pretty young nurse in blue scrubs appeared at the doorway, pushing a wheelchair that held Feet. His Mr. Potatohead glasses had been repaired with a piece of Scotch tape at the bridge, so now he had two pieces of tape, and he was wearing a wan smile and a heavy plastic boot on his right foot. “Here we go, gang,” she said with a grin. “He’s all yours, but we’ll miss him. He sang Frank Sinatra to us.”

“Dean Martin,” Feet corrected her, glancing up.

“Hi, Feet!” Mary rose quickly, and the others less so, though they clustered around him, even Tony-From-Down-The-Block.

“Welcome back, Feet,” he said, gesturing at the wheelchair. “Hey, you got yourself a convertible and a pretty girl. Nice work if you can get it.”

“HEY, PAL! HOW’D YA MAKE OUT!”

“Tony,
come stai
?”

“So what’s the diagnosis?” Mary asked the nurse, who handed her a flurry of papers stapled together.

“Not too serious. A mild sprain, if that.”

“Yay!” Mary couldn’t have taken the guilt, if the news had been worse.

“
Bravo!
”

“He was lucky, that’s for sure.” The nurse patted Feet’s shoulder. “The doctor told him, from now on, no more long walks without a cane.”

Feet frowned, glancing up again. “I walk to the corner to get the newspaper every day, and I don’t need a cane.”

“I KNOW YOU DON’T. I DON’T NEED A HEARING AID, EITHER.”

Mary assumed her father was kidding, but she could never be sure. “So why does he have the boot?”

“To hold the foot rigid, so the ankle can heal.” The nurse pointed to the stapled papers. “Those are his discharge instructions, which show the care he’ll need. Will you sign them for me?”

“Sure.” Mary reached into her purse, rummaged around for a pen, and signed the papers on the bottom, while the nurse continued.

“He’s already taken Advil, and we gave him some to take home. He should stay on that for the next few days, as you’ll see in the instructions. He’s tired, and I know you have a long drive back to the city, so unless I miss my guess, he’ll sleep the whole way.”

“I’m not tired,” Feet corrected her.

Mary smiled. “It’s been a busy morning. I think they’re all tired.”

“I’M NOT TIRED.”

“Me, neither,” said Tony-From-Down-The-Block.

“
Che?
”

Mary let it go. “What about the boot?” she asked, handing the nurse the signed forms.

“He’s going to be wearing the boot for three weeks, but he’ll take it off at night or in the shower. It has to be put on and taken off properly, and I can show you how it works. It can be complicated, and the straps are Velcro. He’ll also need cold compresses for the first few days.” The nurse eyed the group, bewildered. “Who’s going to be helping him with that? He told us he lives alone.”

Tony-From-Down-The-Block stepped forward like a soldier reporting for duty. “I’ll do it,” he said, practically clicking his heels together.

Mary looked over, surprised.

Her father looked back at her, flaring his eyes in another Meaningful Look, which meant did-you-see-this-coming?

Pigeon Tony looked at the television, still young and restless, at heart.

Feet looked up at Tony-From-Down-The-Block, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “You? You’ll probably kill me.”

Tony-From-Down-The-Block squared his soft shoulders. “Feet, I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.”

Feet leaned back in his wheelchair, dubious. “Did Mary make you apologize?”

“No.” Tony-From-Down-The-Block shook his head, with its patch of Elmo-red hair. “She gave me the idea, but what made me do it was when I saw you drivin’ away in the ambulance. Life’s too short to fight with your friends.”

“I thank you,” Feet said, nodding in his wheelchair, as magnanimous as a king in a throne.

Mary swallowed the lump in her throat, and the nurse looked choked up, too, because nurses were soft-hearted, by nature.

“YOU TWO KISSED AND MADE UP? THEN LET’S GET OUTTA THIS JOINT! WE’RE TOO YOUNG TO BE INNA HOSPITAL!”

Chapter Thirty-three

Fifteen minutes later, Mary was driving the Buick back to Philadelphia, while her father, Feet, Tony-From-Down-The-Block, and Pigeon Tony fell soundly asleep. She kept the windows closed so they wouldn’t wake up, though the afternoon sun heated the car’s interior, which was filled with the sound of snoring, a deviated septum, and an incipient allergy to pollen, if not fresh air. They had caused their share of trouble today, but she couldn’t have gotten any of the information she had without their shenanigans. It made her want to kiss each of them on the forehead.

She noticed the scenery becoming more suburban, with less open space and more homes, then thought about returning Allegra’s call, because her father wasn’t awake to nag her about using the cell phone. Still she waited until she stopped at a red light to dial the number, because she was that good a daughter. It took a while to get to Allegra through Churchill’s operator, but she finally did. “Allegra?”

“Hi, Mary!” Allegra sounded eager to speak with her. “You called at the perfect time. I just met my team, and they have me scheduled for an individual session in fifteen minutes.”

“Good, you sound better than last night,” Mary told her, meaning it.

“I slept okay, but I still want to get out of here. Can you get me out of here?”

“Not yet, but I did want to update. We got the bees installed in their hives, and I spoke with Alasdair.”

“Oh that’s great! You didn’t get stung or anything, did you? Did he get stung?”

“No, everybody’s fine, and we had some help from some friends of mine.”

“Great, I was so worried. Were the bees okay? Was the queen alive? Sometimes they die in the mail.”

“She’s fine, sitting on her tiny bee throne as we speak.”

“Thanks so much for all you and your friends did. Alasdair will take care of the work at the hive from now on, he knows what to do.”

Mary hadn’t realized there was more work to do, but she was officially out of the bee business.

“That’s why I called you so many times, I was hoping nobody ended up in the hospital.”

Mary almost told her that they had, but they didn’t have much time on the phone, and she felt relieved that Allegra had a good explanation for calling so often. “The headline about this morning is that you were right about Tim Gage. He was at the party the night Fiona was killed, and he left upset, though there were no signs of blood or anything like that on him. Our investigator found a parking valet who gave him the information.”

“That’s amazing,” Allegra said, her tone turning hushed. “So he was there. I knew it, all this time, I knew it.”

“Also, Alasdair told me that Tim was really upset that Fiona broke up with him, so we are beginning to get some evidence of motive.”

“Oh, wow. I didn’t know that. So is Tim your main suspect?”

“Only a working theory, but I have to keep plowing ahead. We’re not going to get answers overnight, so I don’t want to get you too excited, or to expect that.” Mary had misgivings about updating Allegra in any detail, especially in real time, given her mental state. Even though she didn’t believe Allegra required residential treatment, she kept hearing Judy’s voice in her head, telling her she couldn’t be sure. “And before we go any further, I just want you to know that even though I’m updating you, I don’t want you to focus too much on this. You hired me to do it, and I will. While you’re at Churchill, I want you to focus on yourself and on getting better.”

“You sound like you think I need to be here.” Allegra emitted a disappointed groan, which Mary recognized as the characteristic whine of the American teenage girl.

“I don’t think you need to be there, but that’s not the point. It would be upsetting for anybody to be going over the details of her sister’s murder, day in and day out. Right now, that’s my job. We on the same page?”

“Yes.”

“Now, I also went to the cottage, spoke with your Uncle Richard, and asked him if he knew anything about Tim and Fiona’s relationship, but let’s just say he wasn’t inclined to speak with me.”

“Did he throw you out of his office?”

“Basically, but I’ve been thrown out of offices before, so don’t take it too much to heart.” Mary steered the car onto a two-lane road that she vaguely remembered led to the highway. “I also met your Uncle Edward, but only briefly.”

“That must have been fun. He’s the baby of the family, my dad says. He doesn’t come over to the house much anymore, or the cottage, since he quit the business. My dad’s the one who runs the show, but he usually works in town, he’s like the big boss. He only works at the cottage when he’s feeling lazy or if he has a cold. Or, like, I remember he used to work at the cottage in the morning, if Fiona had a field hockey game in the afternoon. He went to all of her hockey games, we all did.”

Mary remembered that Edward had been kind to Feet after he’d fallen, but her attention wandered as she approached a fork in the road, at a John Deere dealership. She tried to remember which way to go, because if she were late, she’d miss the meeting with Hannah. Of course, the Buick didn’t have GPS. She was lucky it had an engine. In the meantime, Allegra didn’t need to be prompted to continue talking, her loneliness evident.

“Richard works mainly at the cottage, but he goes in town sometimes. I think a lot of his clients are near us, and I know he’s expanding the business in Delaware and Maryland. They always talk about that. Work is all he talks about, ever. They think I’m obsessed, but they are. It may be a family business thing, but whatever. Uncle Edward used to work in the business, but he doesn’t anymore, not really. He’s a sweetie.”

Mary took the left fork, hoping for the best. She didn’t see any landmarks, only a few white clapboard Cape Cods that looked remarkably similar, except for a variety of different lawn ornaments. She passed a fake plastic deer, a beaver carved from a tree stump, and finally a statue of the Virgin Mary, which made her feel right at home.

“Edward is an antiques dealer,” Allegra was saying. “He’s really smart, he went to Yale, and he knows a lot about art and antique furniture and rugs, too. He collects needlepoint samplers, and he sells them for thousands and thousands of dollars. Edward works his farm, it’s organic, and he grows corn and soybeans with his wife. Her name is Polly. Polly’s pregnant now, three months, but it already shows. It took them a long time and they had a lot of trouble, but I don’t know too much about that. Richard has a son, Ryan, he’s kinda hot but I hardly know him. He’s about Fiona’s age and he lives with his mom in San Francisco. Richard’s divorced because he’s a worse workaholic than my dad, even.”

Mary hit the gas, reassured when she saw a Turkey Hill convenience store and a FREE FIREWOOD sign, which looked familiar. “Okay, on a different subject, I’m going to see Hannah Wicker this afternoon and see if she can tell me anything more.”

“That’s really great. You’ve made so much progress in such a short time, and I really appreciate it. Thanks a lot, and please thank Judy for me.”

Mary hesitated. She hoped Allegra wasn’t disappointed when she heard that Judy wasn’t working the case anymore, but there wasn’t time for that conversation now. “Judy’s back at the office, but I’ll make sure to tell her, and you’re welcome.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to come visit me later on? Even tonight?”

“I wish I could, honey, but I can’t.” Mary thought of what Jane had said to her, at the door of the cottage. “Allegra, I want you to know I had a very nice talk with your mother today. She seems like such a nice person.”

“Oh. She is, really.”

“She told me to tell you, if I saw you, that she loves you and misses you very much.”

Allegra fell silent.

“Why don’t you give her a call? Or think about adding her to your visitors’ list. If not your father, then at least your mother.”

“Why?”

“Because they love you. They’ve made some bad mistakes, I know that, but they’re your family.”

“Tell
them
that! They tricked me into getting in the car. They lied to me. They put me in a mental hospital. They think I’m crazy. Did anybody ever do anything that bad to you?”

“No, but you have to remember they thought they were doing the right thing. They didn’t do it out of malice, they did it out of love.”

“So what? They don’t understand me. Honestly, they hardly even know me. I haven’t lived home in years.”

“But now you do, and you have to think ahead. The only way they can begin to know you is if you talk to them.” Mary hit the gas, speeding toward the highway. “All I’m saying is, think about it, okay?”

“Okay. You sure you can’t come tonight?”

“No, sorry.” Mary couldn’t ignore the hurt in her voice. “I have to go to a birthday party for my future mother-in-law.”

“You’re getting married?” Allegra squealed. “That’s so cool! Do you have a ring?”

“Yes, didn’t I tell you?”

“No! I had no idea!” Allegra paused. “Uh-oh, wait, I better hang up. It’s almost time for my stupid session.”

“Try to keep an open mind.”

“All right, see you,” Allegra said, begrudgingly.

“Talk to you later. Take care.”

“Bye, love you.”

“Love you, too,” Mary told her, after a moment.

Chapter Thirty-four

An hour later, Mary emerged from a taxicab in industrial Northern Liberties, the gritty city neighborhood where Hannah Wicker worked. The Tonys had been dropped off at her parents’, and Mary had kissed her mother good-bye and parked the Buick in front of their house, the way they did in South Philly, where everybody saved his parking space with a plastic beach chair or galvanized trash can. It was an unwritten law that nobody was allowed to park in your space unless they were mobbed-up, but even that rarely happened, as the Philadelphia mob had seen better days and even they respected the right of a man to park in front of his own house.