The Vendetta Defense

can get ready for race season this summer. He loves you forever for saving his birds.”

“I didn’t do it. The Tonys did.” Judy stood up and waved as Pigeon Tony approached, swinging his Hefty bag, and when he got close enough she could see what was driving the dog nuts. Perched on Pigeon Tony’s shoulder, riding happily under the brim of his hat, perched a slate-gray pigeon. Judy burst into laughter. “Is that a pigeon on his shoulder?”

“That’s no ordinary pigeon. That’s The Old Man.”

“He came back?”

“Naturally, to South Philly. Where else can he get fresh mozzarella?”

Judy laughed. “So what’s he doing here?”

“Tony-From-Down-The-Block brought him, and my grandfather won’t let the bird out of his sight. They’re both single, and they go everywhere together now.”

“Judy!” Pigeon Tony was pumping his hand with a familiar vigor. “Thank you, Judy. Thank you! Look! See! He come back!”

The motion unsettled the bird, which began fluttering its wings, and suddenly Penny leaped into the air at the pigeon.

Judy was about to shout in warning, but the aged pigeon, who had survived dangers greater than mere puppies, took easy flight, flapping its wings in a gentle rhythm, swooping in unhurried spirals into the cloudless blue sky. The bird climbed higher and higher as they all watched from the meadow, until finally it soared into the light of the sun, safe and free.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I know something about the law and about golden retrievers, but that’s about it. For this novel I had to understand homing pigeons and prewar Italy, so I was, in at least two areas, flat out of luck. Also the writing part never comes easy, but that’s another story. This is where I say thank you for the help, and kindly forgive my length. I’m a big fan of thank you. People should say it more often. Only goldens are exempt.

First thanks to my agent Molly Friedrich and my editor Carolyn Marino, for their guidance, support, and good humor during the writing and editing process. Thank you to HarperCollins CEO Jane Friedman, who watches over me, my books, and even their covers, and to Cathy Hemming, who is the best publisher in town. Thank you to Michael Morrison, for his expertise and kindness, and to Richard Rohrer, for all of the above, plus great taste in wine. Thank you to the Amazing Paul Cirone and to Erica Johanson, for everything. Special thanks to Laura Leonard and Tara Brown, for putting up with me.

Thank you to my wonderful family, The Flying Scottolines, here and in Italy, who let me mine them and their memories relentlessly. Thank you to my compare Rinaldo Celli and his family, who helped me understand something about life under Mussolini. Also helpful in this regard were several excellent works: Mussolini, My Rise and Fall (Da Capo, 1998); Moseley, Mussolini’s Shadow (Yale University Press, 1995); Whittam, Fascist Italy (Manchester University Press, 1995). For background, see Juliani, Building Little Italy; Philadelphia’s Italians Before Migration (Penn State University Press, 1998), and Mangione, Mount Allegro (Syracuse University Press, 1998). Like most Italian-Americans, I grew up in a proverb-spouting household, but I hear that not everybody learns what goes around, comes around or the ever-cryptic I cry, or you cry at age three. Those of you who escaped childhood without this experience, or even those of you who survived it, may want to read Mertvago, ed., Dictionary of Italian Proverbs (Hippocrene, 1997). Thanks to my friend, Carolyn Romano.

Thank you to Anthony and Rocco LaSalle and his family, who invited me into their home, loft, and friendship. I am forever grateful. Thank you to the members of a certain local pigeon racing club, for letting this rookie attend. For further reading about pideon racing, see Rotondo, Rotondo on Racing Pigeons (Mattacchione, 1987) and Bodio, Aloft (Pruett, 1990). Thank you to Wil Durham, for his expertise and kindness, and to Marty Keeley, Sebastian Pistritto, and Chris Molitor.

Thank you to Paul Davis, friend and master stonemason, for answering countless questions and for letting me watch him pick up rocks and put them down again. Fot the zen of dry-laid walls, see Allport, Sermons in Stone (Norton, 1990) and Vivian, Building Stone Walls (Storey, 1976). Thank you to Dr. Anthony Giangrasso, for his forensic expertise and kindness. Thank you to my dear friends criminal defense lawyer Glenn Gilman and detective/whiz Art Mee of the Office of the District Attorney of Philadelphia.

Most of all, thank you to my readers, who have been so supportive to me and my books over the years. I think of you every sentence, and am grateful for the time you spend to read me and even write to me. I am both honored and cheered by your very kind letters and e-mail.

Finally, a personal thank you to my husband and family, for their love and support, and to three goldens I know, for just being you.

About the Author

Lisa Scottoline writes bestselling legal thrillers that draw on her experience as a criminal lawyer at a prestigious Philadelphia law firm and also her clerkships in the state and federal systems of jus-tice. She is an honors graduate of the University of Pennsylvania and its law school, where she was associate editor of the Law Review. Scottoline won the premier award in suspense fiction, the Edgar Award, for her second legal thriller, Final Appeal. Her books are used by bar associations for the issues of legal ethics they pre-sent, and she has lectured on the subject at law schools around the country. Scottoline’s books have been translated into more than twenty languages. A native Philadelphian, she lives with her family in the Philadelphia area and welcomes mail at www.scottoline.com.