“I think he has a crush on you.”
Mary scoffed. “He’s like ninety years old.”
“He says he doesn’t feel safe without you. He’s supercute, for such an old guy.”
“You’re creeping me out. So what happened?”
“We got as far as state-your-name-for-the-record, and he said he wanted to leave.” Judy sighed. “You’ll just reschedule.”
“To when?” Mary knew her week would be crazy. She had her regular case load to deal with, plus Dhiren and Dean Martin.
“What happened this morning with Trish?”
Mary didn’t have the time to fill her in, but did anyway.
“Good work,” Judy said, when the executive summary was over. “You’re doing all you can do for the dark side.”
“They’re not so bad.”
“The harpies?”
“I’m doing it for Trish.”
“Watch yourself with these girls.” Judy pointed a finger. “They’re just going to hurt you, in the end, and I don’t like anybody who hurts you.”
Mary smiled, touched. “Oh, by the way, I talked to Bennie this morning.”
“You did?” Judy’s eyes flared, and Mary filled her in on her meeting with the boss, which seemed ages ago. When she was finished, Judy’s unlipsticked mouth made a determined little line. “She won’t even hire a contract lawyer? That’s not fair. You need help.”
“It is what it is.” Mary got up. She had tons to do before Giulia called.
“If you were her partner, you wouldn’t have to ask permission to hire help.”
“If I were her partner, I’d be your boss.”
Judy laughed.
“My thoughts exactly,” Mary said with a smile, then hurried back to her office.
There, she called Roberto Nunez, but there was no answer and she left a message. She rifled through her mail, sorting it into Good and Evil piles, as was her habit. She ignored the ringing phone, logged on to the computer, and searched for special-education websites. She took notes, then scouted online to find an alternative place to get Dhiren tested. All the time, she was wondering when Brinkley would get back to her. She found a suburban child-study center with psychological and personality testing, then called them and was put through to the intake coordinator. Mary explained the situation, finishing with, “He’s so frustrated in school that he’s pulling his hair out.”
“That’s called trichotillomania.”
“You’ve heard of it?”
“Yes, it’s unfortunately quite common. We have fifteen psychologists on staff, all specializing in children with learning disabilities. As you’re seeing with your client, those disabilities affect them emotionally, so they hurt themselves or act out in school.”
“That’s exactly what’s happening.” Mary almost cheered. “Great! So when can I get him an appointment?”
“Will this be paid by the district?”
“No. This is private.”
“Payment is due when services are rendered. The cost is $3025.”
“I understand. I told the boy’s mother it’s expensive. I just need to set up the appointments.”
“Would you like an appointment for testing or counseling?”
“Both.” Mary felt greedy. “He really needs help.”
“I understand, these cases can be so heartbreaking.” From the other end of the phone came the clicking of a computer keyboard. “I’d start counseling as soon as possible. I have an opening on June 11, at three thirty with Dr. Theadora Landgren.”
Mary thought she was kidding. It was months away. “He has to wait that long?”
“I’m sorry, we’re very busy.”
“He can’t wait. He’s in a very bad way.” Mary heard the intake coordinator’s other phone start ringing.
“Excuse me. I have to get that. Please hold.”
Mary waited while they played uplifting music that didn’t uplift. She was already defaulting to Plan B. She wouldn’t make a counseling appointment; she’d find Dhiren another shrink, maybe closer, in the city. The important thing was the testing.
“Ms. DiNunzio, would you like to make that appointment for counseling?”
“No, that’s okay. Let’s go for the testing. I’ll get him counseling elsewhere, if you don’t mind.”
“I can even make some referrals for you.” Then came the sound of keyboard clacking, and the coordinator said, “Our first appointment for testing is June 3.”
“June? Even for the tests? Can you really be so booked up? I mean, it’s just a test.” Mary thought of Amrita saying, give him a book and see how he struggles.
“It’s not that simple. Our tests include full psychological batteries, personality testing, neuropsychological assessment…”
Mary zoned out while she explained in detail.
“So you can see it’s a complicated process, and that’s why we can’t take you until June 3. But I have referrals for testing as well.”
“Thanks so much, and I can’t wait until then.” Mary grabbed a pen. “May I have those referrals?”
Ten calls later, Mary had made a testing appointment for April 10 and counseling for April 15. It was the best she could do, but could Dhiren wait that long? How could she tell Amrita? Her BlackBerry rang, and she checked the display, the caller a welcome one.
“How’s my little girl?” her father asked warmly.
“Great, Pop.” Mary had trained her father to call on the cell, to be sure to get her, and put on her earphone so she could check her e-mail while they talked.
“Did you hear from Bernice yet? Feet keeps askin’ me.”
Oops. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll call her right now and get back to you.”
“Okay, baby. Love you. Your mother says don’t work too hard.”
“Love you both, Pop.” Mary hung up, called information for Bernice Foglia’s number, and pressed it into the BlackBerry while she answered her e-mail. It was the only good thing about her hated BlackBerry-when she used it with the earphone, she could do three things at once, instead of merely two.
“Yeah?” Bernice answered, her voice quavering with age.
“Mrs. Foglia, how’re you? This is Mary DiNunzio. I’m calling about this situation with Dean Martin.” Mary couldn’t believe the words coming out of her own mouth.
“I heard your father’s gonna slap me with a lawsuit, me and my ladyfriends.”
“That’s not true, Mrs. Foglia. I don’t know how you heard that.”
“Feet told Johnny-From-The-Corner who told his wife Lillian and she knows Josephine who’s my camarr from Moore Street, so she called me right away.”
Mary smiled, checking her e-mail and typing responses as quietly as she could.
“Mare, you better mark my words. Just ’cause you’re a lawyer doesn’t mean you can push me around. You used to be nice when you were little, but you changed. Success got you a swelled head. Hmph!”
“Mrs. Foglia, no one is suing you. They were upset about what you said about Dean Martin, is all.”
“Why? It was true. The man was a drunk.”
He was not. “You know what I think, Mrs. Foglia?” Mary heard a noise and looked up from her e-mail. Judy was standing in her doorway, gesturing for her to come. Mary flashed her the one-minute sign, but Judy rushed in, grabbed her by the hand, and pulled her out of the chair, while she followed her with the BlackBerry.
“I don’t care what you think,” Mrs. Foglia was saying, and Mary let Judy lead her down the hallway by the hand.
“I think this is getting out of control. Everybody’s up in arms.”
“They don’t like what I said? They can lump it. That’s what Frank would say.”
