Everywhere That Mary Went. Lisa Scottoline
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which is something he does at meetings when he thinks he’s being considerate. “I’m assigning the case to you, Mary Mary. You make all the calls, just be sure you blind-copy me on the correspondence. I don’t want to look like a smacked ass if the GC calls. There’s a pretrial conference scheduled for today at three-thirty. It’s your baby. Any questions?” He sucks on the cigarette throttled between his thick knuckles. Its red tip flashes on like a stoplight.
“And … Martin?”
“Forget Martin!” he says, breathing smoke. “You don’t need Martin, do you?”
“No, I just … I thought he handled your matters.”
“Well, he doesn’t. I told him the other day. He’s fine with it. You want this case or don’t you?”
“I do. I do.”
“Good. Then we’re married.” He erupts into laughter.
I laugh too, with relief and wonder.
“Now get out of my office. Can’t you see I’m a busy man?”
I laugh again, but the meeting is over. I get up to leave.
“By the way, Ned Waters was in here bitching today. He heard that only two of you will be making partner in June. You hear anything like that, Mary, Queen of Scots?”
“No,” I lie.
“Fine,” he replies, knowing I’m lying. “It’s not true.”
“Good,” I reply, knowing he’s lying.
As I leave his office, I see that Delia’s headset is off, resting at the base of her neck like a cheap choker. As I walk by, she’s sipping tea in a genteel way from a white china cup. An affectation she’s picked up from Berkowitz, who likes to stub out his Marlboro in the saucer.
“See you later, Delia.”
“Ready to play with the big boys, Mary?” She looks daggers at me over the delicate cup.
Her expression bewilders me. “Guess so.”
“You’d better be.” Her lovely eyes glitter with hostility as she sets the cup down. It makes an unhappy sound when it crashes into the saucer.
“Are you mad at me for something, Delia?”
“You, Mary? Never. You’re little Miss Perfect. Hail Mary, full of grace. He forgot that one, didn’t he? But that’s not one he’d know.”
Before I can react, Berkowitz’s hulking frame appears in the doorway. His cigarette is burnt all the way down to the V between his index and middle fingers, but he seems heedless of it. “Delia, I need you in here,” he says gruffly.
“But I’m having a nice conversation with Mary, Mr. Berkowitz.” Her full lips curve upward in a sly smile.
“Now!” It sounds like a gunshot.
I jump, but Delia doesn’t. Still smiling, she stands up and unfolds slowly, from her perky breasts on down. She and Berkowitz lock eyes, with him looking the stern principal to her naughty schoolgirl. As I turn to go, I hear the door of Berkowitz’s office close behind them.
“Oh-ho!” Brent whoops behind the closed door of my office. “She’s jealous of you, Mare. Sammie’s giving you your big chance, and it’s killing her. This ain’t a law firm, it’s a miniseries!”
“You think she’s jealous?”
“That girl needs a spanking, and I bet I know who’s gonna—”
“Jealous enough to send me that note?”
His face falls. “My God, Mary. I didn’t think of that.”
“Is she capable of it?”
“I only know what I hear about her. Sure, she’s the type to send a hate note—she’d do it in a minute. But follow you around in a car? That’s a bit much. I’d sooner believe that of Waters. And he has more of a reason. It’s his partnership you’d take.” Brent bites at a thumbnail.
“I don’t think it’s Ned.”
“Why?”
“Something tells me it’s not him. I don’t know; if anything, he seems kind of vulnerable. And why not Delia? Look, I don’t know if she’s having an affair with Berkowitz, and it doesn’t matter. What if she has a crush on him and he’s favoring me? Maybe that’s enough to piss her off.”
“They’re having an affair, Mare. He left five minutes after her Monday night. Janet won four bucks.”
I flash on the way Berkowitz looked at Delia before they closed the door. “Okay. So maybe they’re having an affair. That would make her even more jealous, wouldn’t it?”
He shakes his head, examining the ragged nail. “It’s not her,” he says with certainty.
“How do you know?”
“No typos.”
So he’s seen her work, too.
A while later, Judy drags me to the Bellyfiller for lunch, which is fine, because I’m not hungry. The place is packed with middle managers. They sit behind combination meat sandwiches, pretending not to be interested in the soap opera on the big-screen TV. I tell Judy about the car that drove by my parents’ house and about the note in the morning mail. It sounds more farfetched than the soap and takes almost as long to tell. Judy’s finished dessert by the time I’ve finished the story.
“Brent’s right,” she says with finality. “I think Ned wrote the note. It makes the most sense. He wants to make partner so bad he can taste it.”
“More than we do?”
“Sure. He has a famous daddy to live up to, remember? And the firm is his whole life. It’s all he has.”
Judy’s words echo inside my head. It’s all I have, too. That must be why I obsess over it and she doesn’t. I take a gulp of water from a smudgy glass.
“We don’t know enough to say whether the car’s connected to the note, but it seems more likely than not. And for some reason, call it sexism, I find it hard to believe that a woman would be stalking you in a car. So Delia’s out.”
“Yeah, I guess.” I feel tense and confused. On the big-screen TV, a gigantic nurse looks tense and confused. My life, parodied before my eyes. I try to block out the TV, but it’s as hard to ignore as the huge clock in my office window. Big, scary things seem to be everywhere I go lately, like a nightmare of Claes Oldenburg’s.
“Do you ever see the car in the daytime?”
“No.”
“That’s consistent with someone who works during the day.”
“Everybody at Stalling, in other words.”
Judy thinks a minute. “Have you thought about calling the cops?”
“Brent wants me to, but I hate to do that. The last thing I need right now is an investigation in the department. I might as well kiss my career good-bye.”
“Hmmm. I see your point. Let’s not do the freak yet, let’s see if it blows over. I’ll be your bodyguard in the meantime. How does that sound?”
I consider this. “I can’t afford to feed you.”
“Very funny.”
On the TV, two monster nurses are discussing whether somebody will live through the week. Their glossy mouths are the size of swimming pools. A commercial for a mile-high can of Crisco comes on.
“Mary?”
“Yeah?”
“You