Judy sighed. “So you really didn’t know anything?”
“Not a thing.” Marlene shook her head regretfully.
“Do you know anything about John Coluzzi?”
“No.”
“About Marco?”
“Nope.”
“Anything about the Philly Court Shopping Center?”
“Sorry.”
Judy set down her pencil in disappointment. The visit had been a dry hole. Maybe Mr. D and The Tonys would find something.
“I’d like to help you but I can’t. Me and Jimmy lived two separate lives, just in the same house. He moved out last year, but it was over way before that.”
Maybe Judy could get some background. She picked up her pencil. “How did Angelo and Jimmy meet? Were you married then?”
“Sure, and Jimmy was sellin’ paint at the hardware store. Angelo used to go in there and they got to be friends, then Jimmy ended up working for him, and was gone all the time. His personality changed. He turned into a big bully. He let himself go. That’s when I think he started runnin’ around.”
“How much was he making working for Angelo, if you know? He said in court he only made fifteen thousand dollars.”
“Yeah, right, but that’s between him and the IRS. He had to take in at least a hundred grand, but it was all cash.” Her eyes glittered with a sudden ferocity, and she pointed at Judy. “And don’t think for one minute that I took blood money, because I didn’t. I’m no hypocrite. We didn’t even file jointly. I made my own money.”
Judy clapped again. Even though the visit was pointless, she was happy to have met Marlene. “I have to tell you, I don’t see how Jimmy could have left you. I don’t think he deserved you in the first place.”
“Thanks.” Marlene reached across the table and gave Judy’s hand a quick pat. “I don’t think he did either, but I didn’t know it then. He moved in with his young chippy, I hear. It’s supposedly the real thing, this time.” She sighed audibly. “It was tough.”
“I bet.”
“Face it, the man is not good-looking. Who woulda thought? You know how I found out?”
“You didn’t catch him, did you?”
“In a way. On tape.”
Judy frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I had the phone tapped. I paid a guy to do it.”
“You tapped
“Damn straight.”
“That’s illegal. Criminal, even.”
Marlene nodded happily. “I was out all the time and Jimmy had the place to himself. He was on the phone, making whoopee with twenty-year-olds. Sometimes he used the cell, but mostly not. I listened to the tape of him talking to the new one. I didn’t believe it until I heard it with my own ears, and then I threw his ass out.”
Judy thought a minute. “You taped his phone calls, from when?”
“Let’s see, he’s been out less than a year. So about six or seven months before that.” Her eyes met Judy’s, and the two women had the same thought at the same time.
“Where are the tapes?” Judy asked, but Marlene was already out of her seat.
A colonial rowhouse, with authentically melony brick, contained Judy’s apartment, and she stepped out of the cab in front of the house, her backpack slung over one shoulder, her briefcase tucked under the other, and a big cardboard box full of cassette tapes in both arms. Also a pink bag filled with Mary Kay cosmetics she couldn’t resist buying, in gratitude, though she had taken a rain check on the free makeover. She had to get to work.
It was dark out, but the narrow street was full of people. Judy was for once happy to see the summer tourists crawling all over her Society Hill neighborhood, which was chockablock with restaurants, ice cream parlors, clothes and record stores, all open late. She didn’t feel safe unless she was in a crowd lately, and sometimes not even then.
Judy glanced around. The traffic was thick, and cars moved down the cobblestone street so slowly Judy could feel the heat from their idling engines. Attractive couples and families walked hand in hand on the sidewalk. Lots of Liberty Bell T-shirts and Bermuda shorts. Ice cream in costly waffle cones and kids holding red, white, and blue balloons. Not a broken nose or a Glock among them. Excellent.
Judy hoisted the box higher, juggled her stuff to the front stoop, and leaned the box against the door while she searched for her keys in her backpack. The box was heavy. Maybe the couple on the first floor could buzz her into the front door. She glanced at the first-floor windows, but they were dark. It was only ten o’clock. They were overworked Penn med students and probably at the hospital. Damn.
Judy kept fishing and looked up. The second floor was dark, too. A couple of gay men who liked to say they were in the cruise business. They had to be out cruising. She dug deeper in the bag. Maybe next time she would take her keys out ahead of time, the way it said in the women’s magazines. How had she survived a car bomb? She heard a shuffling noise behind her and peeked timidly over her shoulder. Only a couple in work clothes, walking home. She finally found her key, shoved it into the lock, and pushed open the front door.
“Down! No! No jumping!” Judy yelled, surprised. It was her puppy in the front hall. What was she doing here? How had she gotten out? She was supposed to be up in the apartment, which was locked. Wasn’t it?
Judy’s gut tensed. She struggled to hold the cardboard box while the puppy jumped up on it, then scooted out the door past her. The street!
“No! Penny! Come!” she shouted, dropping everything and running panicky after the dog. “Penny! Come!”
But she needn’t have worried. Goldens chose people over cars every time. Unless the car had a tennis ball. The puppy was bounding over to greet the couple, but they recoiled when she leaked in delight on their shoes.
“Sorry,” Judy said, when she reached the pair. “It’s not her fault, I left her all day.” She grabbed the puppy by the red nylon collar and walked her like Quasimodo back to the front stoop, nervously assessing the situation.
Judy’s box, briefcase, and backpack lay in disarray. Her apartment was evidently unlocked. The house was completely empty, and it didn’t have the tightest security in the first place. The only blunt instrument in her place was a wooden clog. Her only protection was a drippy puppy. No way in hell was she going upstairs.
She unhooked the strap from her briefcase, latched it onto the dog’s collar, and picked up the box. She’d borrow tomorrow’s clothes from the office closet, if she had to. Then she gathered her stuff, moved it and the puppy to the curb, and hailed a cab.
The girls were on the move.
Chapter 31
Judy sat on the conference room floor at the office and slipped the tape for January 25 into the office boom box. Penny slept peacefully on the navy rug beside her, with a tummy full of chicken lo mein. They both felt well fed and reasonably safe, given the lock on the conference room door, the double lock on the firm’s reception area, and the armed guard at the desk downstairs. Rosato & Associates wasn’t Fort Knox, but it beat Judy’s apartment, for the time being.
She’d called the cops about the break-in, but Detective Wilkins was on the day tour this week and she’d had to settle for filing a complaint with the desk officer, who said they’d check it out when they could. He didn’t know about any follow-up on the car bomb or where her car was. So far the score was Coluzzi Family 1, Golden Lovers 0. It was against nature.
Judy hit PLAY on the tape machine, and Fat Jimmy’s gravelly voice came on the line, by now familiar:
JIMMY: I need that suit.
WOMAN’S VOICE: Sir, I told you Tuesday, not Monday.
JIMMY: So Tuesday, Monday, what’s the difference? I need it today.
WOMAN’S VOICE: Sir, we don’t have it. We sent it out. It will be back
Tuesday morning. You can get it then.
