“Hey, Mare, yo!” somebody shouted, and Mary slapped the diary closed with the photos inside and looked through the windshield.
“MARE!” It was Giulia, hollering from down the street, because South Philly was a neighborhood without volume controls.
Mary waved to Giulia through the windshield, shoved the diary in her purse, and slipped the maps back in the glove box. She gave the car one last look around, got out, and chirped it locked, while the Mean Girls clack-clacked down the sidewalk like a tiny black locomotive, puffing smoke.
And it looked as if they’d picked up a passenger.
CHAPTER TEN
G iulia, Yolanda, and Missy stood beaming in Trish’s living room, surrounding an older Asian man who had a lined face and a delighted, if slightly bewildered, expression. He wore baggy black pants and a thin plaid shirt buttoned up to his neck wattle, and his hair was thin, steel gray, and slicked back. He was very short and never took his eyes from Giulia’s face. Okay, chest.
“Mare, look.” Giulia looped her arm around the tiny man and squeezed him close. “This is Fung Lee. He’s Oriental.”
“Chinese,” the man corrected good-naturedly, in thickly accented English.
“We went up and down the street like you said, and nobody saw nothin’ except Fung.”
“Good work, ladies.” Mary introduced herself and shook Fung’s hand, though his attention remained glued to Giulia. He nestled next to her body, fitting neatly beside her breasts, obviously enjoying his new best friends.
Giulia smiled down at the man. “Fung goes to the corner store the same time each night to buy a lottery ticket. He always goes at six thirty, right before they announce the winner, because he thinks that’s good luck.”
Fung nodded, ensconced.
“So I showed him the photo, and he recognized T because he sees her all the time, goin’ in and out of the house. He lives around the corner with his daughter and her husband.”
“Got it.” Mary held up a hand. “Let’s let him say what he saw, in his own words, okay?”
“Sure, Mare.” Giulia bristled, but Mary didn’t want words put in Fung’s mouth.
“Fung, what did you see last night?” she asked. “Can you tell me?”
But Fung only smiled up at Giulia, his free arm encircling her waist.
“Fung?” Mary repeated.
“Talk louder, Mare,” Giulia said, snuggling him, but Mary suspected his hearing wasn’t the problem, unless a breast blocked his ear. She raised her voice before he reached orgasm.
“Fung! What did you see? Did you see something at the house last night?”
“Tell her what you told us, doll,” Giulia said, gesturing at Mary. “It’s okay. She’s a lawyer. She can’t help being mean.”
Fung answered, “I see woman. Woman from picture.”
Giulia interjected, “I showed him Trish’s picture.”
Fung continued, “Woman very pretty. She with man. Leave with man and go in car.”
“What kind of car, do you know?”
“Black.”
“Was anyone else with them?”
“No. Woman and man only.” Fung looked up at Giulia.
“Did they seem happy or unhappy?”
“Not happy. Man very angry. Door close. Bang!”
Mary felt her gut tense. “Did the man yell? Shout?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“Wo bu zhi dao. Don’t know.” Fung pointed to his ear, and Mary understood he didn’t hear that well.
“What was the woman doing?”
Fung shook his head.
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
“Was she crying?”
“No.”
“Did she call to you, or anybody?”
“No.”
Mary got a bad feeling. “What time was this, about?”
“Six thirty exact. I go store.”
Giulia interjected, “I told you, he goes to the store at six thirty because the luck is better.”
Mary asked, “Did the woman have a purse?” She held up her purse. “Purse?”
Fung thought a minute. “Yes.”
“Did they have a suitcase?”
Fung frowned, not understanding.
“A suitcase is like a big purse.” Mary wanted to double-check and played charades for a second. “Like for a trip, for vacation.”
Fung frowned, not understanding.
Giulia held up her huge purse. “Suitcase.”
Fung shook his head, with a smile for her. “No.”
Good. “And they drove away?”
“Yes.”
“Which way?”
Fung pointed north.
It told Mary nothing. She didn’t know why she’d even asked. “Did the woman see you, do you think?”
“Don’t know. I go corner. She go car.”
“Did she try to signal you? Show you a sign?”
“No.”
“Were other people on the street?”
“Yes. Family. Baby.”
Mary looked at Giulia. “I thought you said nobody saw anything.”
“Like I said, you wanna be the one who IDs him?”
Good point. Mary paused. “Fung, is there anything else you can remember about what you saw?”
“No.”
“Okay, thank you.” Mary stuck a hand in her purse and extracted her wallet, then slipped out a business card and handed it to him. “This has my phone number. Please feel free to call if you remember anything else.”
Fung took the card, then looked up at Giulia. “You have?”
“Awww,” Giulia said, and kissed him on the cheek.
Fifteen minutes later, they were back in another cab, with Mary giving another aged driver the address and the Mean Girls squeezing in the backseat. She took the seat up front again, feeling like the chaperone on a field trip of underachievers. She twisted around in the seat and eyed Giulia, whose red highlights blew in the breeze from the open window. “You did a good job, girl.”
“Hmph,” was Giulia’s only reply. She’d barely said a word since Mary had rebuked her in front of Fung.
“We helped, too,” Yolanda said, beside her, and Missy nodded.
“My feet are killin’ me from all that walkin’.”
“You all did great. Fung placed Trish’s departure in time and confirms our working theory.” Mary managed a smile, but Giulia still held her grudge. “By the way, I’m curious, did you guys know that they were sleeping in separate beds?”
“Get out.” Giulia came to life, her dark eyes wide.
“For real?” Yolanda asked, blinking.
“Why didn’t she tell us?” Missy raised a permanent eyebrow.
“That’s my question.” Mary looked to Giulia for the answer, and so did the others.
“I guess she was embarrassed?”
“Why?” Mary asked. “She told you they were having problems. She told you she wanted out, right?”
Giulia nodded, curls blowing in her face, and she speared one with a long nail and pushed it back.
“So, why?” Mary asked again.
Yolanda slid her gaze toward Giulia. “We woulda blabbed it.”
“We would not!” Giulia shot back. A frown folded in the shape of a pitchfork on her forehead.
“You woulda,” Missy said, and Mary let them fight it out, watching.
Giulia: “I can’t believe you said that, Miss! I wouldn’ta told nobody.”
Yolanda: “Who you kidding, G? You woulda told Joey.”
Giulia: “Well, yeah, Joey. I mean, whaddaya think, I’m married to the guy.”
Yolanda: “Just ’cause you’re married don’t mean you have to tell him everything.”
Giulia: “No? That’s why you’re divorced. Twice.”
Yolanda: “Whatever, Joey woulda told Tommy and Tommy woulda told Jerry and Jerry woulda told Johnny Three Fingers who woulda told Cooch, who hangs at Biannetti’s because he’s a wannabe. And Cooch woulda told the boys at Biannetti’s and T woulda gotten herself dead.”
The Mean Girls fell silent, suddenly chastened. Giulia said, “She’s right. That’s exactly what woulda happened. That’s why T didn’t tell us.”