“The other,” Lou said, eyeing the TransAm as it followed them to the next corner and turned right. “It’s still on us.”
Bennie’s fingers tightened on the wheel as she coasted to the corner and took another right. The BMW stayed straight and so did the TransAm, behind it. Her mirror went clear. “They’re both gone,” she said, relieved.
“There you go. It was nothing. So why are we going to the crime scene?”
“You’re my investigator. You gotta investigate.” Bennie was choosing her words carefully. She was taking Lou to the apartment so he could find the money under the floor. She couldn’t testify about finding it because she was a lawyer, but Lou could. She didn’t want to corrupt his testimony, so she had to let him find the money on his own.
“You want me to investigate the crime scene, almost a year later?” Lou frowned. “Should be clean by now.”
“Should be.”
“Shouldn’t be anything there.”
“Shouldn’t be.”
“For this you got me in a tie? On a Sunday night? I’m
“I’ll turn up the air.” Bennie racheted up the Ford’s air-conditioning and pretended she was paying attention to her driving, and Lou laughed softly.
“You’re a lousy liar, Rosato.”
“The worst in the bar association.”
“I wasn’t born yesterday.”
“I could tell, from all the wrinkles,” Bennie said, and turned onto Trose Street. She double-parked and Lou got out, checking for the TransAm. It wasn’t in sight. Kid was probably cruising for girls. Oh, to be young again, he thought, and followed Bennie to the rowhouse.
“So what do you want me to see?” Lou asked, once they were upstairs. His eyes narrowed as he entered the apartment and looked around, appraising it with a professional eye.
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Where am I supposed to see it?”
“Can’t tell you that either.” Bennie closed the door and leaned against it, getting her second wind. It felt almost good to be out with Lou. Doing something; not thinking about her mother. “That’s why you make the big bucks.”
“Ha.” Lou stepped into the center of the room. “Am I warm?”
“No. And I thought you were so smart.”
“No, just handsome.” Lou walked to the left side of the room, where the blanket chest was askew, the way Bennie had left it, to conceal the hole in the floor. “I’m getting warmer, aren’t I?”
“You tell me,” Bennie said. She felt a shiver of excitement as Lou bent over and slid the chest aside with an audible grunt. His testimony would be terrific at trial. He was so credible, so clearly loath to find evidence that pointed away from the accused cop killer. Bennie could only imagine the jury’s reaction when Lou testified about the money he found under the floor of a highly decorated detective. It would be enough evidence of illicit dealing to permit Bennie to prove that Della Porta was killed by competing drug dealers, whether they were police or not. Bennie suppressed her excitement.
“I think I’m getting warmer,” Lou called back as he squatted and pulled up the floorboards Bennie had replaced.
“It’s entirely possible.” Bennie remained at the door, keeping her distance. She wanted his testimony absolutely pure. “Not just another pretty face, are you?”
“Not me.” Lou tossed a strip of stained floorboard aside and it landed with a clatter. “Here we go.”
“Did you find anything?”
“I think so.”
“What is it?”
“A hole.”
“What’s in the hole?”
“
“What?”
“It’s Yiddish. It means ‘nothing.’ ”
“I know what it means.” Bennie hurried to Lou’s side and stood stricken over the open floor. The hole in the floor was completely empty. The money was gone. Her mouth dropped open. “I left a package of money there. Five hundred thousand dollars, at least.”
“No, I found it. I swear.” Bennie’s thoughts raced ahead. What would she do without the money? She couldn’t prove police corruption at trial now, not without Connolly’s testimony, and there was no way she’d put Connolly on the stand. What would Bennie do for a defense?
“Rosato, you feelin’ okay?” Lou rose and brushed down his khakis, wrinkled at the knee like an elephant’s knees. “Your mom, and all. It’s a tough-”
“No. There was money there. I found it and then put it back.”
“When?” Lou asked, and Bennie told him the whole story, everything she knew and everything she had learned. Her defense was falling apart, and it was time to trust someone. Lou’s face fell into grim lines as she spoke, his expression changing from surprise to suspicion. When Bennie finished the account he said nothing, but walked to the wall and flicked off the light overhead, plunging them both into darkness.
“What are you doing?” she asked, as Lou crossed the living room to the window.
“Come here,” he said urgently, and Bennie joined him. A line of cars was parked at the curb on the other side of Trose Street, and she followed Lou’s finger to the one at the end.
A black TransAm.
BOOK THREE
Kill the body and the head will die.
– A boxing maxim
54
The Criminal Justice Center was built as a replacement courthouse for City Hall because the City of Brotherly Love had so many criminals, City Hall couldn’t try them all. A slim column of blond sandstone with modern art deco touches, the new Criminal Justice Center stood like the pretty younger sister across the street from the Victorian dowager that was City Hall. Courtroom 306 was the largest courtroom in the Justice Center, and the only secured one. A wall of clear plastic, bulletproof and soundproof, spanned its width and divided the bar of court from the gallery, which was packed with reporters and spectators. A trio of sketch artists sat together in the front row, one armed with tiny brass binoculars.
Bennie waited at counsel table for trial to begin, hating that the lawyers, judge, and court personnel were behind glass. It made her feel uncomfortably as if she were on television and the gallery were a studio audience;
