Judy sighed. Case was going down the tubes. That made four— count ’em, four—witnesses to a murder threat by the client, who was, by the way, guilty as charged. “Did any of you hear anything that Coluzzi said, while they were both in there?”
“No,” Mr. DiNunzio said, and the others shook their heads, no.
“Why?” Feet asked. “Did he say something we shoulda heard?” He half-smiled in an encouraging way, but as much as she wanted to, Judy wasn’t writing scripts for witnesses.
“No, you heard what you heard. Okay, anybody else find anything interesting in the testimony today?”
Tony-From-Down-The-Block raised an unlit cigar. “I thought it was interesting that Fat Jimmy broke up with Marlene. Musta just happened, because I didn’t hear nothin’ about it. She’s a number, that Marlene. She makes a buck, too.”
“Not what I was looking for, but that’s very interesting.”
“It’s what I’m looking for,” Tony-From-Down-The-Block said with a snort, and Mr. DiNunzio gave him a solid shove.
“I thought you had that girl, on the Internet. In Florida.”
“She thinks I’m twenty-five. And anyway, I need a real girlfriend. I need Marlene. She’s got red hair.”
Feet wiped his mouth. “Her hair ain’t real.”
“So?” Tony-From-Down-The-Block sipped his coffee. “I got a bum ear and a prostate the size of Trenton. I’m gonna throw stones?”
Judy wished for a pointer and something to tap it on. “In any event, Feet, what did you learn in court today?”
“I heard something interesting.” Feet rubbed his hands over his legal pad, so that sugar crumbs fell like snow all over the table. “I heard Fat Jimmy say he only got paid fifteen large for blowing Angelo Coluzzi.”
Mr. DiNunzio’s head snapped angrily around. “Don’t say blowing.”
Tony-From-Down-The-Block scowled. “Not in front of a girl.”
Judy winced. “True, it wouldn’t be the way I’d put it, but that’s close to what I was looking for. Fat Jimmy said he’d worked for Angelo for over thirty years. That’s a long time. What did he do for Coluzzi, besides the aforementioned? Mr. D? Do you know?”
“Not really. I wasn’t in the racing club, like these guys. I just know Pigeon Tony.”
Feet thought a minute. “Fat Jimmy was with Angelo all the time. He drove him around, went to the clubhouse with him. Showed up at all the races with him.”
Tony-From-Down-The-Block was nodding. “He had to take Angelo’s shit, that’s what. Angelo bossed him around all the time.”
“You couldn’t pay me enough,” Feet said, and Mr. DiNunzio shook his head.
“Me neither.”
But Judy had stopped listening. She took a seat at the head of the table. “We all know that Pigeon Tony’s son and daughter-in-law were killed in a truck accident last year, and that Pigeon Tony thought Angelo Coluzzi was responsible for it. Tell me what happened with the accident, like where it was.”
Mr. DiNunzio looked up. “It was at the ramp off of I-95, you know where it goes high to get back into the city, like an overpass. It’s a sin.” He shook his head slowly. “They think Frank lost control of the car, maybe he was tired, and the car went over the side and crashed underneath.”
Judy tried to visualize it. “Did it hit anybody when it fell?”
“No. That time a night, there was no traffic. They say the Lucias, they died when the truck crashed. They didn’t suffer, which was good.”
“They were good people,” Feet said. “Frank, he’d give you the shirt offa his back. Did free brick work for me and my cousin. And Gemma, my wife loved her.” His silver tooth disappeared behind the sad downturn to his mouth, and Judy realized they were all still grieving over the loss of the Lucias, despite their bravado. “They didn’t deserve to go like that.”
Tony-From-Down-The-Block was shaking his head. “Nobody does, ’cept my ex-wife.” Feet laughed, and even Mr. DiNunzio smiled, which broke the grim mood that had fallen in the room.
Judy leaned over. “Well, if that wasn’t an accident, but was murder, and we can prove it at trial, maybe we can get Pigeon Tony’s charge reduced. And if Coluzzi was responsible for it, I’m betting that Fat Jimmy was involved.”
Mr. DiNunzio set his coffee cup down quietly. “Judy, I don’t think so. It had to be an accident, didn’t it? Maybe Angelo Coluzzi could get away with murder in the old country, in the old days. But here, in Philly? Nowadays?”
Tony-From-Down-The-Block chewed his unlit cigar. “They put a bomb under Judy’s car, for Christ’s sake. I wouldn’t put it past the Coluzzis, not at all. That scum was capable of anything, and he coulda made it look like it was an accident, since it was on the expressway and all.”
Only Feet looked grave. “I always thought Coluzzi did it. Always.”
“Why?” Judy asked.
“Just because. Coluzzi hated Pigeon Tony. He wanted to ruin him. Coluzzi was an evil bastard, and you know what? The next person Coluzzi woulda killed was Frankie. Frank.”
Judy shuddered. “So we have our work cut out for us. I want you all to help, but you gotta make me one promise before I give you your assignment.”
“What?” asked Mr. DiNunzio.
“Nobody tells Frank,” she said. “Agreed?”
Around the table, each of the old men nodded. Conspirators, covered with confectioner’s sugar.
Chapter 30
As soon as Marlene Bello answered the screen door of her brick rowhouse, Judy could see what Tony-From-Down-The-Block had meant. She was wreathed in the scent of a spicy perfume, her dark red hair was wrapped into a neat French twist, and her big brown eyes were expertly made-up. She had a cute little nose and full lips emphasized by chic rust-colored lipstick. Marlene had to be sixty, and it looked womanly on her, as if she had earned honestly the smile lines around her eyes and mouth. “Can I help you?” she asked with one of those smiles.
“Yes. My name’s Judy Carrier, and I’d like to talk with you if I can. For just a minute.” “Ha!” Marlene pursed glossy lips sympathetically. “Honey, I used to go door-to-door myself. Whaddaya sellin’?”
“I’m a lawyer. I—”
“A lawyer! You’re shittin’ me! They go door-to-door now?” She shifted her weight from one slim hip to the other, in black Spandex stirrup pants that clung to shapely, if short, legs. A pink T-shirt with a scoop neck revealed a small, gym-toned waist and a soft, natural décolletage. The whole package registered as European, except for the white letters across her chest that read MARY KAY COSMETICS. “Whaddaya got? Wills, contracts, like that?”
“No, I’m not selling anything, but I was wondering if I could come in. It’s private.” Judy felt nervous even though she had taken a cab here. Night was already falling. Her eyes swept the skinny city street. Nobody was out, and the beach chairs sat empty, in friendly little circles. The Phillies game was on, and the televisions in everybody’s front rooms flickered on the dark street like South Philly lightning. “It’s about your husband, Jimmy.”
“A lawyer looking for Jimmy? That’s unusual.” Marlene snorted. “Anyway, he doesn’t live here anymore. And you’ll never get the money he owes you.” She began to close the door, but Judy stuck her briefcase in the way. “Nice move,” Marlene said with admiration.
“Mrs. Bello—Marlene—please let me in. I need help, not money. I represent Tony Lucia—Pigeon Tony—against the Coluzzi brothers. I had Fat Jimmy in court yesterday, on the stand—”
“Shit, why didn’t you just say that? Any enemy of Jimmy’s is a friend of mine.” A huge smile broadened Marlene’s face, and the front door swung wide open.
Ten minutes later Judy was installed behind a pink mug of instant coffee at the white Formica in Marlene’s kitchen. It was the same size and shape as the DiNunzios’, but it was modern, lit coolly by an overhead fixture of Lucite. Cabinets of white laminate ringed the room, the counters were of lacquered butcher block, and the table and chairs had an IKEA style, which Judy mentioned to open the conversation.