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  They all nodded, and Conchetta answered, “We meet every week at my house. Today we’re going over to the hospital. We’re gonna leave in an hour.”

  “That’s nice.”

  Conchetta paused. “You wanna come? We can always use an extra hand.”

  Flavia didn’t say anything, but got misty behind her glasses.

  Conchetta smiled. “Flavia, what do you say? Tick tock. The cookies are gonna burn.”

  “Okay.” Flavia laughed, clapping her little hands together.

  “Okay, ladies?” Conchetta turned around, facing the rest of the group. “You don’t mind if Flavia comes with us, do you?”

  “She can come.” Ann smiled.

  “Fine with me.” Margie grinned, and everybody else chimed in, “No problem.” “She can come.” “She can bring extra napkins.” “Don’t forget your sweater.”

  “Thank you.” Flavia beamed. “Thank you all. I can even take us, if you want.”

  “You can drive?” Lorraine blurted out, delighted.

  “No, I have a driver. Nicky makes me. He says it’s safer. I have macular degeneration, I can’t see so good.”

  “You have a chauffeur?” Paul’s eyes widened. “In a limo?”

  “No, in a normal car.”

  Conchetta looked at Flavia like she was crazy. “But there’s fifteen of us. We don’t fit in one car. We usually take the bus.”

  “He has a bus, too.” Flavia smiled slyly. “They use it for bachelorette. There’s booze in the back.”

  “Party!” Lorraine shouted, and the others joined in, laughing and cheering, “Let’s do it!” “Woohoo!” “Let’s go!” “We’re ridin’ in style!” “The Rosary Society is movin’ on up!”

  Mary couldn’t join in their happiness, now that she had the name of the man who killed John. All she could think of was what she could do next to bring Machiavelli and Fortunato to justice. Suddenly she heard a text come in on her phone and she stepped away from the celebration. She slid her phone out of her purse, and the text was from Lou: Here’s the enlarged video but it’s no better. Also tried but can’t find more cameras. Shanahan still at large. No new news.

  Her heart sank, but she quickly ran the video. It was still dark and grainy, except that the image of the silhouette was bigger, but had no detail to help. She didn’t know what Stretch looked like, but the shadow had no distinguishing facial features whatever. The height and weight, again, looked average. She watched with disappointment as the silhouette on the video pulled up the window, which she could see better since it was bigger, then left via the fire escape. She hit Stop and put her phone away, with a frustrated sigh.

  Flavia caught her eye, puzzled. “Mare, is something the matter?”

  “No.” Mary forced a smile.

  “What about with Stretch? What did he do something bad? I know he musta. If he did, I wanna know.”

  “Um, nothing,” Mary answered, off-balance.

  “Then why did you ask me his real name?”

  “No reason. Just curious, because he beat up Joey.”

  “You’re a bad liar. Nicky’s a much better liar than you. I answered your question, so you should answer mine.” Flavia glanced at Conchetta and the others. “You girls mind if I talk to Mary, alone?”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  “So.” Mary sat down at the glistening dining-room table. “You really want to know why I asked you Stretch’s real name?”

  “Yes.” Flavia folded her hands in front of her. “Stretch works for Nicky. If Stretch did something wrong, Nicky should know about it and I wanna know about it.”

  Mary paused. “But what if Stretch did something wrong because Nicky told him to, like when Stretch beat up Joey?”

  Flavia glowered. “Believe me, I’m gonna talk to Nicky about that.”

  “But do you still wanna know?”

  “Yes.” Flavia straightened in the chair, lifting her chin. “I wasn’t born yesterday, Mary. I’ve been through a lot, more than you know. So tell me straight.”

  Mary decided to level with her. “I think that Stretch might’ve murdered John Foxman, a lawyer at my firm. And I think Nick might have told him to.”

  “Murdered?” Flavia gasped, her lined hand flying to her lips. “That can’t be. Nicky wouldn’t do that.”

  “I think he would. And I think he did.”

  “No, no, no.” Flavia shook her head, jittery, placing both hands on her papery cheeks. “He’s done a lot of things, but not that. A beating is one thing, but a murder, no. Not that, not murder.”

  “I know, it’s awful. But I have good reason to think so and I’ll tell you why, quickly. Nicky owns companies that make a lot of money, and to protect them, he filed the lawsuit against me and my partners—”

  “The one he talked about on TV?” Flavia frowned deeply, trying to recover her composure. “I told him he shouldn’t of said that about you on TV. I told him that wasn’t nice. I knew it wasn’t true. You could tell he was lying when he said it. He doesn’t even believe that. I could tell.”

  Mary thought Flavia was right, but didn’t say so, since the big picture was so much worse. “More importantly, I think Nick had Stretch kill John, to get rid of the lawsuit against his companies.”

  “I can’t believe it.” Flavia shook her curly little head.

  “I can.”

  “Did you go to the police?”

  “Yes, but they don’t think Nicky is behind it. They think somebody else is.”

  “Thank you, sweet Jesus.” Flavia looked heavenward, clasping her hands together in prayer.

  “But I don’t agree with them and neither do my partners.”

  “Why?” Flavia frowned.

  “All of the facts point to Nick and Stretch.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Flavia leaned over, slipped an iPhone, from her pocket, and began to make a call.

  “Wait, what are you doing?”

  “I’m calling my Nicky.”

  “Wait, what?” Mary hadn’t seen this coming. “You can’t just call and ask him if he had somebody murdered.”

  “I know that. Shh, I don’t want him to know you’re here.” Flavia set the phone down and put it on speaker, and when the call connected, the screen changed to read BABY BOY. “Honey, how you doing?”

  “Good, Ma,” Nick answered, his tone more affectionate than Mary had ever heard. “How’s my Baby Girl?”

  “I’m fine, honey. Can you come over?”

  “Sure, I’m in the neighborhood. Be there in five minutes. You need anything?”

  “No, just come home. And don’t talk on the phone when you drive.”

  “Okay, love you.”

  “Love you, too, honey.” Flavia pressed the button to end the call, and Mary willed her heartbeat back to normal. She didn’t know what was weirder, that Flavia was calling Nick to ask him about John’s murder or that their nicknames for each other were Baby Girl and Baby Boy.

  “Flavia, I don’t know what’s going on.” Mary thought of her plan, going to hell now that their cover was about to be blown.

  “What don’t you understand? I’m going to ask my son if he had Stretch kill your friend.”

  “His name was John,” Mary supplied, as if they were singing the birthday song and didn’t know the name of the birthday boy. “Flavia, this is a murder case. You just can’t ask somebody if they’re responsible for murder.”

  “You can if you’re his mother.”

  “But I didn’t want him to know that I was onto him.”

  “So?” Flavia looked at Mary directly, from behind her round bifocals. “He’s going to find that out sooner or later, if you’re going to accuse him.”

  Mary had no immediate reply, since it was true. “But he’s going to lie to you. He’s not just going to admit it. He’s going to say he had nothing to do with John’s murder.”

  “I can tell when he lies,” Flavia stated, as if it were a scientific fact.

  “Flavia, with respect, no, you can’t.”
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  “Yes, I can.

  “You’re not a lie detector.”

  “I’m better than a lie detector. I read the newspaper. I know they’re not reliable.”

  Mary thought she might have a point there too. “So you really think you can tell when he’s lying?”

  “I know I can. I know him better than anybody in the world. I carried him for nine months, just like you.” Flavia gestured at Mary’s belly. “You’ll see, when you have that baby.”

  “What will I see? What do you mean?” Mary’s hand went to her belly, but the baby still wasn’t kicking, so the chocolate chip hadn’t helped. She was going to call the doctor, after this debacle was over.

  “Nobody knows a child better than its mother. Let me tell you something. You may not always get along with your child. You might fight with your child. You might not speak to your child for a year, maybe two. But a mother always knows her child.”

  Mary couldn’t buy in. “But every day on the news, you see mothers saying what a good boy their son is, when he’s a killer. Like Conchetta thought you were.”

  “But I didn’t say that about Nicky, did I? This mother knows her son, the bad and the good.” Flavia waved her off. “And those mothers on the news, the ones you were talking about? They’re not lying to themselves. They’re lying to the camera. They know the truth, inside. They know it in their heart. They can’t bring themselves to say it out loud.”

  Mary blinked, thinking Flavia was either a genius or completely delusional.

  “I know that boy. I raised him on my own. His father was never around. That’s why he listens to me.”

  “But you said before that he doesn’t listen to you.”

  “On the important things, he does. I’m the only one he listens to, and it doesn’t get more important than this. Murder is a mortal sin.” Flavia leaned forward urgently, placing her wrinkled hand on the polished table. “I would never believe he could do that, or have Stretch do it, but I’m going to ask him, right to his face.”

  Mary didn’t know if it was a good idea, but it was about to happen. “I guess it can’t really do any harm. He’s going to find out I suspect him sooner or later.”

  “Like I said.” Flavia cocked her head. “Anyway, what is it with you and Nicky?”

  “It’s like he has it in for me. He’s tried to do me in, so many times. It’s like he’s out to get me.” Mary didn’t add that Machiavelli had also tried to kiss her, in his office.

  “It’s on account of he’s so confused, like his father.” Flavia shook her head.

  “What was his father like?” Mary had never met the man.

  “Don’t get me started. I shoulda left him so many times, but I kept the family together.” Flavia rallied. “Nicky has a crush on you. He always has, from high school. He told me. He always liked you.”

  “He never told me.” Mary wasn’t completely surprised, given that kiss, but still.

  “I think he’s acting out to get your attention, for all these years. Like in the olden days, when the boys put the girl’s pigtail in the inkwell. He told me you were out of his league.”

  Mary felt relieved to be considered too good for a murderer, but didn’t say so.

  “Now, he can’t take it that you’re having a baby, that you married Anthony. You said no to him, and he’s used to getting what he wants.” Flavia sighed. “I spoiled him, that much I did. He thinks he’s entitled.”

  “Well, he’s not.”

  “I know.” Flavia’s face fell into deeply sad lines. “It’s gone too far.”

  “Yes, it has,” Mary said, which was the understatement of the year, since they were talking about John’s murder. “I’m not kidding around, Flavia. You and I, we’re both adults. I’m telling you, right now, that I think Nick killed my friend John and I’m not going to let him get away with it. He’s not entitled to commit murder. I want to put him away.”

  Flavia fell silent a moment, then looked at Mary evenly. “I agree with you. And if my Nicky committed murder, or had Stretch commit murder, I’ll help you.”

  “You will?” Mary asked, astonished. It was the right thing to do, but she didn’t know many mothers who would say as much, in her position.

  “Yes, I will.”

  “But he’s your only son.”

  “It’s the right thing to do, and at the end of my life, I have to answer to my God.” Flavia patted Mary’s hand, and just then, the front door opened, letting a shaft of light into the large, dark room. Machiavelli appeared in the threshold, his mouth dropping open when he saw his mother sitting at the table with Mary.

  “Hi, honey,” Flavia called out, motioning him over. “Come sit with us.”

  “Us?” Machiavelli strode toward them, composing himself. His mouth reverted to its typical smirk, and he buttoned his suitjacket as he swaggered over. “Hello, Mary, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “I figured.” Mary didn’t know if she had the upper hand but it felt like it, from his reaction.

  “Anyway it’s a good thing you’re here.” Machiavelli reached the table. “I just got off the phone with the Pennsylvania Human Relations Commission. We’re rejecting your settlement offer. My clients don’t want to work for your firm.”

  “Oh that’s too bad.” Mary felt her theory confirmed, as if it needed it.

  “So we’ll see you in court.” Machiavelli walked to his mother, put a hand on her shoulder, and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Hi, Ma. You didn’t tell me Mary was here.”

  “No, I wanted to surprise you.” Flavia pointed to the chair catty-corner to her. “Sit down, please.”

  “Am I in trouble?” Machiavelli pulled out a chair, smirking.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Mary sat directly across from Machiavelli, and Flavia linked her hands in front of her, dead calm. “Nicky, we have something very serious to talk about. I want you to tell me the truth, no matter what. And you know I can tell when you’re lying.”

  “Okay.” Machiavelli folded his arms, still smirking.

  “And don’t make that face. This is very serious.”

  “Okay.” Machiavelli frowned, probably embarrassed. Mary would’ve been too, but it was too serious to make jokes.

  “Mary says her friend John got murdered. Did you have anything to do with that?”

  “No,” Machiavelli answered flatly.

  Flavia paused, her lips pursed. “Nicky, I want you to look me in the eye. I want you tell me the truth. Because you know I can tell when you’re lying.”

  “I’m not lying.” Machiavelli blinked, and Mary couldn’t tell if he was lying, but she knew he had to be.

  Flavia leaned closer to him. “Do you swear to God?”

  “Yes.” Machiavelli kept a completely straight face. “I had nothing to do with John’s murder.”

  “Did Stretch? Did you send Stretch to kill John?”

  “No,” Machiavelli answered, again flatly.

  “Do you swear to me, Nicky? On my eyes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because if you’re lying to me, you’ll burn in hell. I will too. That’s a mortal sin.”

  “Ma, I would never murder anybody.”

  “Stretch would.”

  “Maybe, but I didn’t ask him to murder anybody. I didn’t ask him to murder John.” Machiavelli shot Mary a look. “Is that what this is about? You came here asking my mother this question? Making these accusations? It’s absurd.”

  “Is it?” Mary shot back. “You sent Stretch to Conchetta’s because she wouldn’t sell her house to you.”

  Flavia’s hooded eyes stayed glued to her son. “Is that right, Nicky?”

  Machiavelli frowned. “Okay, that I did, but I offered her a million bucks first. Why didn’t they take it? It’s not worth a tenth of that.”

  Flavia gasped. “Nicky, that’s terrible! That’s a terrible thing to do! I’m so ashamed of you. Joey is in the Army. He’s serving our country.”

  “I wanted the house.”

&nbs
p; “But I didn’t want the house.” Flavia gestured at the big vast, cavernous room, as she had before. “I don’t want any of this. I don’t want you to beat up anybody for it. A man in uniform!”

  “I wanted it for you.”

  “I told you, I don’t want any of this, I don’t need any of this.”

  “I let it go, Ma. They live there, don’t they? It’s all good.” Machiavelli turned to Mary. “What’s one have to do with the other, anyway? I had nothing to do with John’s murder. You can’t think I did.”

  “I sure can,” Mary shot back, angering. “You might be able to convince your mother, but you can’t convince me.”

  Machiavelli looked at her like she was crazy. “Why would I kill John?”

  “You sent Stretch to do it.”

  “Why would I do that? It’s still murder if I solicited it, and I never would. Murder?” Machiavelli’s brown eyes flared. “Mary, I draw the line. I’ve done a lot of things, but murder, no. Never.”

  “Oh really?” Mary couldn’t believe his nerve. It was time to bust him. “Let’s go back a few days. You manufactured that reverse-discrimination lawsuit against us. Those three plaintiffs have worked for your businesses. You paid their college tuition and put them up to the Complaint against us.”

  Machiavelli’s eyelids fluttered. “That’s not true.”

  Flavia shook her head. “Nicky, you’re lying. I can tell. You just lied to her. Did you do what she said or not?”

  “Yes, he did,” Mary interjected.

  Flavia held up a hand to Mary. “I’m talking to my son.” She returned to Nicky, flushing behind her papery skin. “You said you would tell me the truth and you just lied. I can tell when you’re lying and when you tell the truth. If you lie, Nicky, I swear, you will pay for the rest of your life—”

  “Ma, don’t get upset, your blood pressure.” Machiavelli put his hand on hers, frowning with genuine concern.

  “You want to give me a heart attack? Then keep lying. It’ll be on you.” Flavia went red in the face, the veins in her stringy neck bulging. She turned to Mary. “Ask him the question again.”