Judy jumped. “Is it
“No,” Anne and Bennie said at the same time.
Anne handed Bennie the weapon. “I only used one bullet.”
“That’ll be ten cents,” Bennie said, and their eyes met in a temporary truce over the weapon. Bennie opened her desk drawer, placed the gun inside, and twisted the tiny key in the lock. She extracted the key and slipped it into her suit-jacket pocket. “No more gun. Everybody remain calm.”
Judy shuddered. “I didn’t know you had a gun, Bennie.”
“Now you know everything. Favorite color is golden retriever, favorite sport is rowing, favorite hobby is winning cases. Pet peeves? Cats, no pun.”
“How is Mel, I was just about to ask.” Actually Anne had been afraid to.
“He meowed for you this morning. I wanted to shoot him but somebody stole my gun.”
“Bennie!” Anne and the other associates looked horrified.
“Just kidding.” Bennie plucked a yellow legal pad from her desk. “Okay, kids, we all have our jobs today, right? Carrier, you’re on flower detail. You have your list of kitchen staff, right?”
Judy nodded, consulting a piece of notebook paper on Bennie’s desk. “Most are women, so we’re in good shape there.”
“Make sure the only kitchen staff are the ones on that list, and you meet each one.”
“Got it.”
Bennie looked at Mary. “DiNunzio, you’re press person, which is a big job. Satorno might come in with a camera hiding his face, or with TV makeup on. No press admitted. None at all. It’s too risky.”
“Right.” Mary nodded. “Like we said, I verify all press passes outside and call the cops if I find him, but don’t alert him to it. And nobody gets into the service but attendees.”
“Yes.” Bennie glanced at her list. “Murphy, you handle the physical plant, the set-up before. You’ll play the grieving cousin from California. What if your mother happens to show up? Are you prepared for that?”
“It won’t happen, but if it does, I’ll ignore her.”
“Can you do that?” Bennie’s lower lip buckled with doubt.
“Not a problem. I have years of practice.”
“You think she’ll recognize you?”
“No. Not with my new hair, and she hasn’t seen me since college.”
Judy and Mary exchanged looks, then Mary smiled. “Nobody will recognize you, not even your own mother, in the disguise we picked out for you.” She turned to a red, white, and blue Liberty Place bag sitting on the floor. It was what they’d been rummaging in when Anne first walked in.
“What is that?” she asked, edging to the bag, but Judy held her arm and pressed her into her chair.
“Last night, we went shopping for your bereavement outfit.” Mary reached excitedly into the bag. “All the stores were open and there were tons of great Independence Day sales. Look at these shoes! Aren’t they so cute?” She pulled a pair of black flats from the bag like a rabbit out of a hat.
“Try them on!” Mary bubbled. “They’re Superstriders, really comfortable. I wear them all the time. They wear like iron. I figured you were a size eight, like me.”
“Good.” Anne had never worn Superstriders in her life, but she kicked off her Blahniks and stepped into them. They had absolutely no heel and were made apparently of rubber, but they fit like Cinderella’s slipper and felt better than mules ever could. She cheered instantly, maybe because her toes could move for the first time in years. “I can catch a killer in these babies!”
Mary nodded happily. “We also got you a dress. Judy picked it out.”
“It’s very cool.” Judy crossed her legs on the desk. “You’ll love it.”
Anne looked up to see Mary holding up a dress, the requisite black, but otherwise utterly unconventional. It had a high neck, a dropped V-waist, and a winged collar. The skirt billowed past the knee and the material crinkled like crinoline. It was beyond fashion faux pas, it was well into Halloween costume.
“It’s kind of dramatic,” Mary said tactfully. “But Judy thought you’d like it. And it covers you up, like a good disguise.”
Judy nodded with pride. “It’s one of a kind. I got it in the crafts store. Slip it on, let’s check the fit. It’s not just a dress, it’s wearable art.”
Even Bennie was beaming. “You haven’t seen the best part yet. The last, essential piece.”
“More?” Anne looked over in fear, and Mary was holding up a black straw hat with a bigger brim than most beach umbrellas. She handed it to Anne, who set it on her head, impulsively tilted it to the side, and pivoted like a prom queen.
Bennie, Judy, and Mary broke into collective grins. “Wow!” Mary clapped.
“Awesome!” Judy said, then her face changed. “Oh wait, I almost forgot. You can’t go without these.” She reached into her pocket and extracted something that fit in her palm, then held it up. It was a pair of long earrings, with tiny, irregularly shaped red, black, and blue glass beads, in wild zigzag and swirling patterns. The beads caught the sunlight and glowed like fireworks.
“How beautiful!” Anne was amazed. She’d never seen anything like them and she’d shopped everywhere. “Where did you get them? The art store?”
“Not exactly. I made them for you. The beads are glass.” Judy handed them over with a sheepish smile. “Welcome to Philadelphia, Anne.”
Anne clipped on the earrings, touched. These women were so generous to her, each in her own way. They were trying to help her. They actually seemed to care about her. Her throat was suddenly too thick to permit speech, so she did what came naturally and threw herself into their arms, hat and all. “Thank you so much!” she managed to croak out, and her hug spanned three lawyers with some success. “You guys are the best!”
Mary hugged her back the hardest, then Judy, who laughed with surprise. But it was Bennie who patted her back and whispered into her ear: “Everything’s gonna be all right, honey.”
It filled Anne with a warmth she had never experienced. Mental note: Girlfriends are more necessary than underwear.
“Okay, ladies, it’s showtime!” Bennie announced, breaking the clinch, and the three mourners sprang into action, with one lagging behind: Anne.
“Bennie, would this be a good time to tell you what happened to the Mustang?” she began.
18
The Chestnut Club was one of Philadelphia’s grandest gray ladies, a Victorian mansion with a huge, paneled entrance hall, a sweeping, mahogany staircase, and a landing with an immense, stained-glass window depicting William Penn negotiating with the Native Americans. Their lawyer wasn’t present.
Inside, Anne checked her watch, tense. 11:30. Half an hour before the start of the memorial service, and a few people were still arriving. It was a small crowd, which she’d expected; not because of the holiday or the shortness of the notice, but because nobody liked her until twenty minutes ago. She circulated among the mourners, her face artfully made up, her head bent under the wide-brimmed hat, with her sunglasses on. Nobody could
She spotted a nice client on one of her commercial contracts cases, Marge Derrick, another commercial client, Cheryl Snyder, and a lovely woman, Lore Yao, whom she knew from a benefit for the Free Library. The staff of Rosato & Associates appeared in force, and Anne wished she could have let them in on the secret, but Bennie had ruled against it. Kevin was nowhere in sight.
Anne walked to the front entrance of the club and looked outside. The press thronged on the street, now joined by onlookers and holiday partiers. Photographers held their cameras above the throng, snapping away, and TV anchorpeople stood to the side, talking to videocameras. They spilled off the sidewalk into traffic, uncontained by too-few uniformed police and sawhorses. Still, no sign of Kevin.
