We'll Meet Again

sealed it for Serrazzano. He saw it already as an open-and-shut case.

“Only this time she won’t plea-bargain,” he said grimly to the detectives working on the case.

36

It’s terribly important that I’m absolutely accurate in what I tell them, Molly said to herself over and over through the night.

Annamarie left the diner before me. I paid the check. When I was walking from the table to the door, it felt as though my head was spinning. All I could hear was Annamarie’s voice, saying that Gary was relieved I’d lost my baby, that he thought of me as a boring Stepford wife. I suddenly felt as if I were suffocating.

There were only a few cars in the lot when I got to the diner. One of them was a Jeep. I noticed it was still there when I left. A car was pulling away as I came out. I thought it was Annamarie, and I called to her. I remember that I wanted to ask her something. But what? What could I have wanted to ask her?

The waitress will describe me. They’ll know who I am. They’ll ask questions. I’ve got to call Philip and explain to him what happened.

Philip thinks I killed Gary.

Did I?

Dear God, I know I didn’t hurt Annamarie Scalli, Molly thought. Will they think that? No! Not again! I can’t go through that again.

Fran. Fran will help me. She’s starting to believe that I didn’t kill Gary. I know she’ll help me.

The news at 7 A.M. identified the victim of the stabbing in Rowayton as Annamarie Sangelo, an employee of the Visiting Nurse Service, from Yonkers. They don’t know who she is yet, Molly thought. But they’ll work it out soon.

She made herself wait until eight o’clock to call Fran, then cringed at the distress and disbelief in Fran’s voice when she said, “Molly, are you telling me you met Annamarie Scalli last night, and now she’s been murdered?”

“Yes.”

“Have you called Philip Matthews?”

“Not yet. My God, he told me not to see her.”

Fran quickly flashed on the trial transcript she had read, including the devastating testimony Calvin Whitehall had given. “Molly, I’ll call Matthews right away.” She paused, then continued with a new urgency in her voice. “Listen to me. Don’t answer the phone. Don’t answer the door. Don’t talk to anyone, even Jenna, until Philip Matthews is with you. Swear that you won’t.”

“Fran, do you think I killed Annamarie?”

“No, Molly, I don’t, but other people will think you did it. Now sit tight. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

· · ·

An hour later Fran was turning into Molly’s driveway. Molly had been watching for her and opened the door before she could knock.

She looks as though she’s in shock, Fran thought. Good God, is it possible that she really is guilty of two murders? Molly’s complexion was ashen, as white as the chenille robe that seemed much too large for her slender frame.

“Fran, I can’t go through this again. I’d rather kill myself,” she whispered.

“Don’t even think like that,” Fran said, taking both her hands in her own. She felt how trembling and cold they were. “Philip Matthews was in the office when I called. He’s on the way. Molly, go upstairs, take a hot shower and get dressed. I heard on the car radio that Annamarie has been identified. There’s no question that the police will be looking to talk to you. I don’t want them to see you looking like this.”

Molly nodded and, like an obedient child, turned and started up the stairs.

Fran took off her coat and looked apprehensively out the window. She knew that as soon as the news was out that Molly had met Annamarie Scalli at the diner, the media would arrive like a pack of wolves.

Here comes the first one, she thought as a small red car turned in off the street. Fran was grateful when she saw Edna Barry behind the wheel. She hurried to the kitchen to meet her and noticed there was no sign that Molly had even made coffee. Ignoring the instant hostility that came over Barry’s face when she let herself in, Fran said, “Mrs. Barry, would you please put on a pot of coffee right away and fix whatever Molly usually has for breakfast.”

“Is anything wrong with-?”

The chimes of the front doorbell cut short the question.

“I’ll get it,” Fran said. Please, God, let it be Philip Matthews, she prayed.

She was relieved to find that it was Philip, although his worried expression told her even more forcibly than she already felt that there might easily be a rush to judgment.

He did not mince words: “Ms. Simmons, I appreciate your calling me, and I appreciate that you warned Molly not to talk to anyone until I got here. Nevertheless, this situation has to be grist for the mill for you and your program. I must warn you that I will not tolerate your questioning Molly or even being around when I talk to her.”

He looks just the way he did when he tried to stop Molly from talking to the press outside the prison last week, Fran thought. He may believe that she killed Gary Lasch, but he’s still the kind of lawyer Molly needs. He’ll slay dragons for her if he has to.

It was a comforting thought. Keep your perspective, Fran warned herself. “Mr. Matthews,” she said, “I’m familiar enough with the law to know that your conversations with Molly are privileged and mine are not. I think you still are convinced that Molly killed Dr. Lasch. I started out believing that, but in the past few days I have developed some mighty serious doubts about her guilt. At the very least, I have a lot of questions I want to get answered.”

Philip Matthews continued to look at her coldly.

“I suppose you think this is a media trick,” Fran snapped. “It isn’t. As someone who likes Molly very much and wants to help her, who wants to learn the truth, however hurtful that may be, I suggest you develop an open mind where Molly is concerned; otherwise you should get the hell out of her life.”

She turned her back on him. I need a cup of coffee as much as Molly does, she decided.

Matthews followed her into the kitchen. “Look Fran… It is Fran, isn’t it?” he asked. “I mean, that’s what your friends call you?”

“Yes.”

“I think we’d better get on a first-name basis. Obviously when I talk to Molly, you can’t be in the room, but it would be helpful if you would fill me in on anything you know that might help her.”

The antagonism was gone from his face. The protective way he said Molly’s name hit Fran. She’s a lot more to him than just a client, she decided. It was a tremendously reassuring thought. “Actually I’d like to go over a number of things with you,” she said.

Mrs. Barry had finished preparing a tray for Molly. “Coffee, juice, and toast or a muffin is all she ever has,” she explained.

Fran and Matthews helped themselves to coffee. Fran waited until Mrs. Barry had left to go upstairs with the tray before she asked, “Did you know that everyone at the hospital was surprised when they learned of Annamarie’s affair with Gary Lasch, because they thought she was romantically involved with Dr. Jack Morrow, who was also on the staff of Lasch Hospital? And that Jack Morrow just happened to be murdered in his office two weeks before Dr. Lasch died? Did you know that?”