Courting Trouble

Detective. Find him.”

“I do have a few more questions for Ms. Murphy, who intentionally deceived us as to her whereabouts, which constitutes obstruction of justice. As does your conduct, by the way, and those of the other ladies here.”

Bennie didn’t bat an eye. “That’s not exactly the law, but I’ve no time to teach it right now. My client is happy to answer your questions, when I let her. Ask away.”

The detective returned to Anne. “Run this by me again, Ms. Murphy. You rented the Mustang on Friday night, July first. Late Friday night, you were erroneously reported murdered. Then Judy Carrier was in the car on Saturday and stopped for gas, using her credit card. July second.”

“Yes.” Anne tried not to look at Judy, who had to be kicking herself. It had happened when they’d gassed up. random, random, random.

“Then Ms. Carrier left her credit-card receipt in the car, and it’s dated July second.”

“Yes.”

“Then you parked illegally on Sunday morning, and the car was towed.”

“Yes.” Now Anne was kicking herself.

“The rental contract was found in the car, identifying the Mustang as rented to you. The gas receipt with Carrier’s name on it was also found, dated the day after your supposed murder. Are we all clear on the facts?”

“Yes. But how did these jerks get the receipt?”

“They were tipped off by the tow yard, who called one of them when the car came in.” Detective Rafferty consulted his skinny notebook. “The yard owner called Angus Connolly because he wrote the story in City Beat. The yard owner sold him the information, photocopies of the rental contract, and the gas receipt. He also contacted the National Enquirer and Hard Copy.” Rafferty looked over steel-rimmed reading glasses at Anne. “Do you have any information relating to that, Ms. Murphy?”

“No.”

“So all you know is that you’re alive?”

“And that Kevin Satorno will kill me if he finds out.”

Rafferty was shaking his head. The heavyset partner was typing slowly. The newest line of the white interview sheet rolling out of the typewriter read KILL ME IF HE.

Bennie pressed on Anne’s shoulder to quiet her. “We’re asking you for one more day, Detective. Just one day, then you can go public with it. The world still thinks Anne’s dead. Let’s let them keep thinking it for one more day. If you release this information, you’ll lose any chance of catching Satorno and you’ll place my associate in jeopardy.”

“I don’t see what difference one day will make.” Rafferty couldn’t stop shaking his head, which Anne didn’t take as a good sign.

Bennie leaned over. “It won’t be July Fourth weekend, that’s the difference, and it’s all the difference in the world. Like you said, the tests wouldn’t be delayed if not for the weekend. Later, you’ll free up personnel. The holiday will be over, the traffic will settle down, and everybody will be back to work. Think about it, Detective.”

Rafferty stopped shaking his head.

“When the world finds out that Anne is alive, the story will explode. Especially after the debacle at the memorial service, with her colleague accused of her murder in front of everyone. Hard Copy, Court TV, CNN, all the networks will pour into town, if they haven’t already. You really think you can handle that kind of deluge today, with two uniforms on duty?”

“We have more than that.”

“Not much, and consider, it’s the Fourth of July celebration, in the city that gave birth to the nation. All eyes are on us, Detective. You really want Philly to look bad right now? What will it do for the department? You really want national attention focused on the fact that the department didn’t notice the mistaken ID of a murder victim?”

Rafferty started to listen, and Anne knew Bennie was throwing anything against the wall that might stick, a time-honored tradition among trial lawyers.

“Detective, we all agree that Anne Murphy was doing nothing but trying to save her own life, and hide from a man who had tried to kill her in L.A. You really want to charge her with obstruction, Detective? You really want to take this woman and hang her out to dry, for all the country to see, on Independence Day, in Philadelphia?”

Rafferty groaned. “You saying the women’s groups gonna be on me now? Why does everything have to be ‘woman this, woman that’?”

“It’s not a woman thing, it’s a victim thing.”

“I’m not a victim,” Anne blurted out, and Bennie said:

“Shut up.”

Rafferty was shaking his head again. “I don’t like being threatened, Rosato.”

“Nether does Anne Murphy, and neither do I. All I ask is one day, one lousy day. I’ll turn her in on Tuesday morning, and we’ll break it to the press together. Hold a news conference, all of us making nice. Safeguarding victim’s rights, after we catch the bad guy.”

Rafferty’s gaze slid toward his partner, who had stopped typing at FINDS OUT. “What do you think, Beer Man?”

Anne didn’t need an explanation for the nickname.

“Tuesday isn’t one day from now,” the partner said. “It’s Sunday, so Tuesday is two days.”

Bennie didn’t hit him. “It’s right after the holiday weekend. Tuesday morning, bright and early.”

Rafferty looked like he was thinking about it. “I don’t know if I have the authority to do something like this.”

Anne opened her mouth to say Bullshit, but Bennie buried strong fingers in her shoulder. “Let me talk to your captain, then,” Bennie said. “Let me make my case.”

“Can’t. He’s in the emergency room at Temple. Broke his ankle in a softball game.”

“The lieutenant then. I’ll talk to him.”

“He’s down the shore, at his house in Longport for the weekend.”

“The inspector?”

“He’s at PAL parties, for the neighborhood kids. He goes to thirty of them today. Sack races and roasted marshmallows. Fireworks, the whole thing.”

“Only you and me working today, huh?” Bennie shrugged. “Then I guess you have the authority, Coach.”

“Maybe.”

“The real question is, what are you gonna do with those clowns in stir, those so-called reporters?” Bennie frowned. “I want them charged. They ruined our chance to catch Satorno and they attacked Carrier. Murphy almost got stampeded because of them.”

“Right,” Judy added. “And now everybody in the city thinks I’m Anne’s killer.”

“Don’t come cryin’ to me.” Rafferty gestured at Anne and Judy. “You girls brought it on yourselves. You sent out the flyer. You whipped up the media, you told ’em to go get the big scoop. You shoulda known that you were gonna get legit reporters—and knuckleheads like those kids—all riled up.”

Judy looked down, and Anne’s fair skin turned pink. Unfortunately, the detective was making sense. Anne was happy she didn’t have to speak for herself, for once. Mental note: Nothing wrong with the term “mouthpiece.”

“That doesn’t excuse what those two men did, Detective,” Bennie answered, angry. “What is this, trial by tabloid? If they had evidence relating to a murder, gas receipts and such, then they should have turned it over to you.”

“Like you did?” Rafferty snorted. “You had knowledge that Murphy was alive. Did you call us?”

“Please. I wasn’t trying to make money, or get famous. I was trying to protect my employees, which is hardly the same thing, and we did call you in time. If you’re not going to charge those two assholes, you’d better keep them away from me.” Bennie was almost spitting-mad. It was like having a mother grizzly for a lawyer.

“Cool it, Rosato. They’re kids. The one with the jungle hat, he’s cryin’ like a baby.” His high forehead creased deeply. “The real question is what you’re gonna do for me, if I let your girl stay dead.”

“Anything. Almost.”