Betrayed: A Rosato & DiNunzio Novel (Rosato & Associates Book 13) (13 page)

“Oh no, I’m sorry.” Frank sounded genuinely shocked, and Judy felt her chest tighten.

“I know, and it’s terrible for her.”

“Is she going to be okay?”

“I hope so.”

“I’m sure she will.”

“It’s stage II, Frank. Not everybody gets better.”

“She will.” Frank patted her hand on the stick shift, and Judy glanced over. His eyes looked pained, if unfocused, but he seemed suddenly pale under his grizzly stubble.

“You okay?”

“I don’t feel so good. My stomach.”

Judy wanted to explain about the chemo and Iris’s death, but he was too sick to listen. “So, just rest. We’ll be home soon.”

“Okay, I think I need to.” Frank leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry about Barb, but she’s a strong woman, like you. She’ll be okay, I know it. Don’t worry.”

“I’m sure she will be,” Judy said, but she didn’t believe her own words. She took her credit card back from the cashier, steered out of the lot, and motored onto Seventh, where she stopped at the traffic light. It had just turned green when her phone rang in her pocket, and she pulled it out quickly. The screen showed a photo of a grinning Mary, and Judy hit a button to talk, but kept her voice low. “Hi Mare, I’m driving.”

“Okay, I won’t keep you. Did you decide about the cases?”

“What cases?” Judy felt suddenly teary at the sound of Mary’s voice.

“The damages trials.”

“Arg. I haven’t had a chance. Sorry. Can we talk about it tomorrow?”

“Fine, but what’s the matter? You don’t sound good.”

“It’s not me. It’s my aunt Barb. She has cancer.”

“No! Not Aunt Barb!”

“I know. She’s having a mastectomy tomorrow.” Judy still found it hard to say. “We’re trying to be optimistic. She’s optimistic.”

“Oh God. I’ll say a prayer and so will my mom.”

“Thanks,” Judy said, but she didn’t know if prayer helped. She wished she had Mary’s faith. She wished she had anybody’s faith. She could use a credible God, right about now.

“What can I do?”

“Nothing, thanks.”

“Where are you now?”

“Back in the city, heading home.”

“I’m at the office. I can be there in five minutes. We can hang.”

“No, I’m fine, thanks.”

“So is that why your mom came in?”

“Yes, I was in Kennett Square until today.”

“Oh no. Poor Barb. She’s so nice. You sure you don’t need help?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Take the time off if you need to, this week. I’ll cover your desk. You’re not in court or anything, are you?”

“I’ll be in tomorrow. I have a deposition in the morning.”

“Judy, don’t. Cancel it. Take the day off. Go be with Barb and your mom.”

“I wanted to, but they told me to go to work. I’ll see them on Monday afternoon, after the dep.” Judy glanced at Frank, who had fallen asleep, his head bobbing as they drove over the cobblestones in the historic section of the city. She braked slightly, slowing the car so he wouldn’t wake up. “I should go, I just picked Frank up at the ER. He reinjured his hand, playing basketball.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes. Apparently he’s in the NBA.”

Mary snorted. “I guess he can’t wash the dog now.”

“Bingo. It’s all part of his plan, no doubt.” Judy had completely forgotten about the dog, who probably needed to be walked, too. “So I’ll be doing flea laundry all night, and I think I’m out of Wisk. Whatever. Gotta go, okay?”

“Okay. Sure. Bye.”

“Bye.” Judy hung up, pressing the screen to end the call, then steered the rest of the way home, trying to sort out her emotions. She hated to think of the chores that lay ahead tonight, washing the dog, vacuuming the rugs, and doing the laundry. She had no idea how she’d get the time to go back for Frank’s truck. Even so, she knew that worrying about mundane tasks was easier than worrying about her Aunt Barb, Iris, or her mother, but by the time she reached their street, her heart was nonetheless heavy.

She reached their neighborhood in artsy Old City, its narrow streets limned with art and photo galleries, cool boutiques, and brick rowhomes of a colonial vintage, which had been converted to apartments. She turned onto her street and took the first parking space that she saw, a few doors from their apartment. She cut the ignition, and was about to wake Frank up when she looked over at her building.

Standing on her front step was a smiling Mary DiNunzio.

And in her hand was a red plastic jug of Wisk.

Chapter Sixteen

“Here’s my question,” Judy began to say, as she stuffed a sheet into the washing machine. Frank had gone upstairs to bed, and she was standing with Mary in the hallway that passed for a laundry room, because the washer-dryer could be covered by a louvered door. “Why can’t my boyfriend be as awesome as my girlfriend?”

“It’s the boy part.” Mary smiled, looking adorable in a Penn sweatshirt, jeans, and ponytail. She had on the tortoiseshell glasses she wore when she wasn’t at work, but she was even cuter in glasses than contacts, every inch The Girl Most Likely.

“No, I mean it.” Judy slammed the washer door closed, for emphasis. “You’re so awesome to show up on my doorstep, just when I’m feeling the worst ever. I can’t thank you enough for that.”

“Honey, you don’t have to thank me.”

“No, you’re amazing. You don’t even have to be asked, you just know what I need.” Judy cranked the big dial on top of the washing machine to
HEAVY LOAD
, because even a single sheet overwhelmed the tiny washer-dryer. Or maybe she was feeling sorry for herself and suddenly everything seemed like a Heavy Load.

“You sounded bummed on the phone, and we need to catch up. I’ve been so crazy lately, with the wedding and all. And it’s nothing to come over, I’m only uptown.”

“No, it’s
everything
. Your coming over here, it’s why you’re the best friend ever in the history of friends. You know what I need even before I do.”

Mary chuckled. “All right already, so what’s your point about Frank? You have to cut him a break. He’s not at his best right now.”

“Oh please. He’s not on Percocet all the time, and he wouldn’t be on Percocet this time if he made better decisions.” Judy uncapped the new Wisk jug and poured a blue stream into the little opening in the machine.

“Aren’t you going to measure the detergent?”

“No, I live dangerously.”

“I always measure.”

“I know, and that’s why I have a sucky boyfriend and you have a great boyfriend. Sorry, I mean fiancé.” Judy set the heavy Wisk jug on the washer with a
thump
. “Jeez, this thing is a lethal instrument.”

“You were saying…” Mary cued her as usual, and Judy wondered where she’d be without her best friend to keep her on conversational track.

“I was saying, you don’t have to be responsible about
everything
. Maybe I’m putting in too much detergent, but so what?
That
you can take a chance with. But playing basketball with a broken hand isn’t the kind of thing that smart people take chances with. Agree?”

“Yes.”

“So what’s his deal? Is he stupid?” Judy waited to hear the washing cycle start, and when it did, she shut the louvered door. “Now let’s go find the dog. She hides when it’s bath time.”

“Of course he’s not stupid. He runs his own company.”

“Exactly, so why can’t he figure this out? Penny! Penny!” Judy padded into the living room in her stocking feet. “It’s not rocket science.”

Mary followed her, with a confused frown. “What can’t he figure out, again?”

“That I need help.” Judy glanced around, but her dog was nowhere in sight. Their small living room looked sweet—two floor-to-ceiling windows facing south, a funky purple velvet sectional with a flea-market Victorian coffee table, and all four walls covered with her bright, abstract oil paintings—except that Frank had left his sweat socks and running sneakers on the ottoman, an open bag of hard pretzels and a Coors can on the end table without a coaster, and the remote control on the floor beside the couch. “See? Look around. Would you leave the place like this?”

“He was going to the ER. He was in pain.”

“He lifted his beer, didn’t he? I always have to get after him to clean up. And where’s the dog? Penny, Penny! Come!”

“Is she upstairs?”

“No, I bet the coat closet. Meanwhile, he was supposed to take the dog to be dipped, but he forgot, so now I have to wash her myself again, because I just did all the sheets.” Judy headed for the entrance hall. “Anyway, if he can’t figure it out himself, why can’t he just watch you? Why can’t he just do what you do? Why can’t he just
copy
you? Or
copy me
? If he did for me what I do for him, we’d get along great!”

“He’s a fun-loving, happy guy. He’s the kind of guy that takes you out to dinner on the spur of the moment.”

“So does that mean he’s not an adult? Can’t you be a fun-loving adult? We are!” Judy opened the door to the coat closet, flicked on the light, and found Penny trembling under the coats, a chubby golden retriever trying to make herself invisible. “Penny, come out. I mean, honestly! He’s a sucky boyfriend!”

“He’s not sucky. You love him, don’t you?”

“Yes, but the problem is that he’s sucky, sometimes. Penny, please come out!” Judy went inside the closet, grabbed the dog by the collar, and slid her out on the floor. The dog’s toenails scraped the hardwood, and her eyes went as round as brown marbles, so Judy stroked her back. “It’s okay, honey, you need a bath. You don’t want fleas, do you?”

“He’s not sucky all the time.”

“No, but is that the standard? Penny, come on, sweetie, let’s go.” Judy coaxed the dog to the stairwell, where she balked, but the only bathtub was upstairs. “Mary, believe me when I tell you, a guy who’s sucky sometimes might as well be sucky all the time.”

“Why? That doesn’t follow.”

“Yes it does. Think about it.” Judy tried to budge the dog, but Penny crouched on all fours, her hackles shaking and her fluffy head hanging. “Bottom line, I can’t rely on him. I have to take care of him. And when I need anything, he’s not there because he’s not used to me asking.”

“You didn’t train him.”

“Exactly what I’ve been thinking!” Judy tugged at the dog. “Anthony would never pull this crap. He’s responsible.”

“I can’t take credit, his mother trained him. He never poops on the rug anymore.”

Judy gave up on moving Penny. “I’m gonna have to carry her upstairs. I hate that. She weighs a ton.”

“I’ll take the front, and you take the butt.”

“You don’t mind? You’ve already qualified for sainthood.”

“No, I haven’t. A saint would take the butt.”

“Thanks.” Judy picked up the dog’s hind, and Mary came around to the head and shoulders.

“Hi, Penny. So, you’re upset.”

“Me or the dog?” Judy started climbing with Mary behind her, so that Penny traveled backwards up the stairs.

“Maybe this isn’t the best plan. It’s literally ass-backwards.”

“Welcome to my world.”

“You seem so bummed, honey. Are you saying you want to break up with him?”

“I don’t know, but we can’t talk about it anymore anyway.” Judy worried that Frank might hear them as they got closer to the second floor, so she flared her eyes meaningfully at Mary, who understood instantly, since all women understood Meaningful Eye Flarings.

“So talk to me about Aunt Barb. You’re worried about her.”

“I am, but it’s not only that.” Judy struggled to not drop the soft, heavy dog, as she squirmed. “So much happened this weekend, I don’t know where to start. Her best friend died, and it seems really hinky. Plus I found ten grand in cash money hidden in her garage.”

“
What?
” Mary asked, incredulous, and Judy told her the whole story, from meeting Iris, to hearing about her death from the police, to visiting the scene on Brandywine Road, then Mike’s Exotics, Iris’s apartment, and finally the church and the mission, with Daniella’s disappearance. There was so much to tell that the story lasted the entire time they washed, toweled off, and blow-dried the shaking dog, then put in a new load of laundry, and finally left to go pick up Frank’s truck. They took Judy’s car, with Penny asleep in the backseat, in some form of doggie shock.

“You know what I think?” Judy asked, as she steered through the dark city streets to the hospital garage. It was drizzling, and droplets dotted her windshield, but there was no traffic. Sunday nights in Philadelphia, everyone was home, depressed about work the next day. “I think something fishy is going on, considering everything as a whole.”

“What do you mean?”

“We have Iris found dead, out of nowhere, and her best friend leaves to go back to Mexico, and there’s secret money stashed in my aunt’s garage. Considering the totality of the circumstances, as the lawyers say, it raises a lot of questions.”

“Like what?”

“Like where did she get the money? Why did she hide it from my aunt? Why did her best friend leave, even before her funeral? Who was that call from that she got? And is any of it connected to the hidden money?” Judy felt good to be talking things over with Mary the way she always did. It wasn’t about men all the time, just most of the time. “I don’t think she was murdered, there were no signs of violence. I saw the body, I know.” Judy shuddered at the memory. “If there had been signs of a violent death, or a weapon, I would say the broken nails were a defensive wound.”

“But there wasn’t.”

“I know. Right. I can’t wait to see what the coroner turns up, but what if she was murdered, and the money had something to do with it?” Judy steered into the darkness, switching on the windshield wipers. “We’ve handled murder cases before, and if this happened in Philly, we’d put two and two together. Secret money, a sudden disappearance, and a mysterious death? What more does it take?”

“It’s not a mysterious death. Don’t get carried away.”

“But we love to get carried away, and there are legit questions.”

Mary snorted. “So what are you thinking? Who would kill Iris, and why?”

“I’m not sure. A few things are possible. I liked Iris and—”

“Stop. Assume you don’t know Iris. Because you don’t.”