a neat French twist, and her big brown eyes were expertly made-up. She had a cute little nose and full lips emphasized by chic rust-colored lipstick. Marlene had to be sixty, and it looked womanly on her, as if she had earned honestly the smile lines around her eyes and mouth. “Can I help you?” she asked with one of those smiles.
“Yes. My name’s Judy Carrier, and I’d like to talk with you if I can. For just a minute.” “Ha!” Marlene pursed glossy lips sympathetically. “Honey, I used to go door-to-door myself. Whaddaya sellin’?”
“I’m a lawyer. I—”
“A lawyer! You’re shittin’ me! They go door-to-door now?” She shifted her weight from one slim hip to the other, in black Spandex stirrup pants that clung to shapely, if short, legs. A pink T-shirt with a scoop neck revealed a small, gym-toned waist and a soft, natural decolletage. The whole package registered as European, except for the white letters across her chest that read MARY KAY COSMETICS. “Whaddaya got? Wills, contracts, like that?”
“No, I’m not selling anything, but I was wondering if I could come in. It’s private.” Judy felt nervous even though she had taken a cab here. Night was already falling. Her eyes swept the skinny city street. Nobody was out, and the beach chairs sat empty, in friendly little circles. The Phillies game was on, and the televisions in everybody’s front rooms flickered on the dark street like South Philly lightning. “It’s about your husband, Jimmy.”
“A lawyer looking for Jimmy? That’s unusual.” Marlene snorted. “Anyway, he doesn’t live here anymore. And you’ll never get the money he owes you.” She began to close the door, but Judy stuck her briefcase in the way. “Nice move,” Marlene said with admiration.
“Mrs. Bello—Marlene—please let me in. I need help, not money. I represent Tony Lucia—Pigeon Tony— against the Coluzzi brothers. I had Fat Jimmy in court yesterday, on the stand—”
“Shit, why didn’t you just say that? Any enemy of Jimmy’s is a friend of mine.” A huge smile broadened Marlene’s face, and the front door swung wide open.
Ten minutes later Judy was installed behind a pink mug of instant coffee at the white Formica in Marlene’s kitchen. It was the same size and shape as the DiNunzios’, but it was modern, lit coolly by an overhead fixture of Lucite. Cabinets of white laminate ringed the room, the counters were of lacquered butcher block, and the table and chairs had an IKEA style, which Judy mentioned to open the conversation.
Marlene laughed. “Are you kidding? I don’t
Judy smiled. She felt cozy with Marlene, who reminded her of Mary on estrogen replacement. “To get right to it, you probably know that there is something of a vendetta going on between the Lucias and the Coluzzis.”
“Sure, everybody in South Philly knows that, but I don’t get real involved in the neighborhood anymore, sittin’ around with the girls in the coffee klatch like I used to. I have my own business now, with Mary Kay.” Her eyes scrutinized Judy’s. “You could use a little more foundation, you know. Especially with such a dark suit. What are you wearing, on your face?”
“Nothing.”
Marlene’s shadowed eyes widened. “
“No.”
“It’s not just a neutral look you got going?”
“No.”
“You’re shittin’ me!”
“I shit you not.”
Marlene laughed. “No wonder it looked so natural!”
“I’m an expert on natural. I have natural down to a science.”
Marlene laughed again. “That’s your problem! I could make you up, make your eyes look even bigger, and bring out the blue. For you, I would go with the Whipped Cocoa on the lid and White Sand up here, on the bone.” She pointed with a crimson-lacquered nail. “You could also use a blush, you know.”
“Lawyers don’t blush.”
“Then you need to buy it. We have powder and creme but for you I’d say the powder. Your best colors would be Teaberry and Desert Bloom.”
“Are you trying to sell me something?” Judy’s eyes narrowed, and Marlene smiled.
“Of course. It shows you what a great saleswoman I am. You come to my door, and I sell
Judy clapped.
“I’m an independent sales director now. One of only eight thousand in the country. Got my pink Caddy and everything. I more than pay my mortgage, all by myself, and it all started with a hundred-dollar showcase. You can laugh, but it’s my own business.”
“I wasn’t laughing. Congratulations.”
“It’s just an expression. Thanks.” Marlene smiled and took a quick gulp of coffee. “Mary Kay is the bestselling brand of skin care and color cosmetics in the United States, six years running. They’re great products, take it from me. I’m an old dog under this paint.”
“Not at all.” Judy laughed.
“It’s true. And I wasn’t sellin’ you. It’s just that you seem like a nice girl and I can make you look a little prettier, is all. You wanna know about it, ask me.”
“Okay.”
“And you could use a creme lipstick. Something neutral. Mocha Freeze. Or Shell. I’ll give you a sample before you go.”
“Great.”
“So what do you wanna know?”
Judy sipped the thin coffee. “We were talking about the vendetta.”
“Okay. I see it made the papers, but I’ve known about it for a long time.”
“I get the impression that everybody in South Philly knows everybody else. Is that right?”
“Yes, it’s like a small town down here. Everybody knows everybody else’s habits, their cars, their kids, their problems. True, South Philly’s only an eight- or ten-block square. It used to be all Italian, but now it’s Italian plus Vietnamese, Korean, like that, south of Broad.” Marlene grabbed Judy’s teaspoon and hers and made a shiny line. “This is Broad Street, and you don’t cross Broad for the neighborhood. North of Broad is a little different, more like a twenty, twenty-five-block square on that side. It’s mostly still Italian, but you got some black. All middle-class, pay their bills. Everybody gets along. Good people.”
Judy blinked in wonder. “How do you know all this?”
“It’s my territory. You gotta know the territory. Like the Music Man says.” Marlene drank her coffee again. “Then you got Packer Park, which is like a place unto itself, and the Estates, which is the same, only ritzier. That’s where the Coluzzis live, by the way.”
Judy took out a pad and made a note.
“Write down that the homes cost five hundred grand and up. There’s a Mercedes in every driveway. Jimmy always wanted to move there, but not me. I’m old-fashioned. I love my house. I don’t like the mob snobs there.”
Judy smiled. “Mob snobs?”
“Everybody knows it.”
“Which Coluzzis live there? John or Marco?”
“All of them, and Angelo did, too. The wife still does, they all got the same model house, same upgrades, and all. Keepin’ up with the Coluzzis.”
Judy made another note. “So you probably knew that Pigeon Tony’s son and daughter-in-law were killed in a car accident last year, on the expressway.”
Marlene thought a minute. “I heard about that.”
“I’m investigating that crash, because I think Angelo Coluzzi was responsible for it, and if he was, then I bet Jimmy was, too.”
“Frankly, it’s possible.” Marlene’s smile vanished. “Jimmy’s business with Angelo, I didn’t know much about, and honestly, I didn’t want to. I was out all the time, working and building up my business. The less I knew, the better off I was.”
