Betrayed: A Rosato & DiNunzio Novel (Rosato & Associates Book 13) (12 page)

“Thank you, and I’m sorry for your loss.” Aunt Barb released her hand. “We’re looking for Daniella. Father Keegan sent us.”

Maria blinked. “Daniella isn’t here.”

“Oh, I got the impression she worked here on Sundays.”

“She does, usually. Sometimes with Iris.”

“But Daniella didn’t come in today?”

“No, they called me this morning to come in for her, so I came in. Sunday is a busy day for us, after Mass. We have to open.”

“Why didn’t she come in? Is she sick?”

“No.”

“Do you know where Daniella is, where she lives? We’d like to go talk with her.”

Maria hesitated, and Judy became aware that the women had stopped talking in the background, evidently eavesdropping as they looked through the clothes and shoes. “She went home.”

“Where? Kennett Square?”

“No, home to Mexico.”

“Really?” Aunt Barb frowned, puzzled.

Judy hid her surprise that Daniella would leave the country, on the same weekend her friend turned up dead. “When did she leave?”

“I don’t know.”

“When was the last time she worked here?”

“Friday, I think.” Maria scratched her cheek, her manner suddenly hesitant.

Aunt Barb rested a hand on the counter, seemingly tired again, so Judy took over.

“Maria, who told you to come in today? Who called you?”

“Lupe.”

“Who’s she?”

“She’s, like, the boss.”

“What did she say?”

Maria pursed her lips. “She said I had to come to work because Daniella went home.”

“Did she say when Daniella went home?”

“No.”

“Did she say why?”

“No.”

“How did she know?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything more than she told me.” Maria averted her dark eyes.

“What’s Lupe’s phone number?”

“I don’t know.”

“What’s Lupe’s last name?”

“Why?” Maria edged backwards, resting a hand on her pregnant belly.

“Maria, we’re just friends of Iris’s, and there’s no hidden agenda here. It would really help us if we could talk to Lupe. If she called you on your cell phone, you could just look at the phone to get her number.”

Maria shook her head. “I … don’t feel good telling you her number.”

“I understand.” Judy didn’t want to give up. “Maria, how about you tell us Lupe’s last name then? We’re just trying to talk to her about Iris’s death. They were friends, and somebody should tell Daniella that Iris died, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know.”

“Please?” Judy smiled in a way that she hoped looked reassuring. Suddenly her phone began ringing in her back pocket. “We’ll keep the information to ourselves, I promise. How about you tell me her last name and I’ll get the number myself?”

“No, no.” Maria backed away from the counter. “I don’t feel … comfortable.”

“But we could get that information anywhere. Father Keegan would tell us her last name. You would just be saving us the trouble of asking him.”

“Then ask him. Please, ask him.”

“Really?” Judy’s phone kept ringing, and Aunt Barb took her arm, looking at her with pained eyes.

“Judy, let’s go. I don’t want to upset anybody. That’s not the point.”

“You want to leave?”

“Yes, please.” Aunt Barb gestured at the ringing phone. “And you should answer that. I bet it’s your mom, and we don’t need to make her angrier than she already is.”

“She can wait.”

“It could be an emergency.”

“All right, I hear you.” Judy checked her phone on the fly.

As it turned out, it wasn’t her mother.

But it
was
an emergency, of sorts.

Chapter Fifteen

Judy hustled to the counter of the modern octagonal desk that dominated the busy emergency room, which was staffed with medical personnel, hustling this way and that. She had been sent back into the ER by the department’s receptionist, who hadn’t known which examining room Frank was in. Evidently, he’d reinjured his wrist in his basketball game, and Judy was hoping that it wasn’t broken, because she wanted to break it herself.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for Frank Lucia.” Judy addressed the medical personnel in general, because she didn’t know which one to talk to. The doctor was on the phone, but both nurses looked up at her, one from the computer keyboard and the other from the printer.

“And you are…?” asked the nurse at the printer, standing with an open palm as a document eked out of the tray. She was pretty, with cropped red hair and green eyes so bright they could’ve been contacts. Fabric daisies curled around the rubbery black stem of her stethoscope, and her scrubs were Barbie pink.

“I’m Judy Carrier. His girlfriend.” Judy caught a quick exchange of glances between the two nurses, sensing their collective disappointment that Frank had a girlfriend, a familiar reaction.

“Great.” The nurse flashed a smile that tried but failed. “He’s in room seven. I’m Melanie, his nurse, and he’s ready to be discharged if you can drive him. He can’t drive himself because of the Percocet.”

“Was he in pain?” Judy tried not to sound hopeful.

“Initially, he had some discomfort.”

“Poor thing,” Judy said, but she really meant
good
. She was hoping he was very uncomfortable. “What was the injury exactly? He wasn’t very specific on the phone. Did he reinjure it?”

“Yes, there was no new fracture, but the doctor had to reset the bone, so it would heal properly. We gave him another cast.”

Judy wanted to give him a new cast, right in the face. “So playing basketball caused the bone to shift?”

“Yes, and the soft tissue in his wrist swelled during the night. He narrowly avoided another surgery.”

“So does that mean the healing process has to start over from the beginning? Are we talking eight to twelve weeks?”

“Yes, and I explained to him that he has to be patient. He can engage in only limited activity. I know that won’t be easy for him, seeing as how he makes his living with his hands.”

Judy couldn’t suppress her eye-roll. “Or maybe people who make a living with their hands shouldn’t play so much basketball. Do you think concert pianists shoot a lot of hoops?”

“Ha!” The nurse laughed lightly. “Everybody needs to have fun.”

“Do they? I’m a lawyer. I don’t believe in fun.”

“All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Judy shot back, then realized it sounded harsher than she felt. Or maybe it was exactly how she felt and she didn’t know how harshly she felt until this very moment. But the nurses were exchanging significant glances again.

“I’ll be right in with his prescription and discharge papers.”

“Thanks.” Judy turned away, her chest tight. She walked down the gleaming hall until she found the right examining room, pushed aside the privacy curtain, and went in.

“Babe?” Frank grinned in a loopy way, lying fully clothed on the bed, his eyes at a druggy half-mast. His left arm was back in its familiar blue cotton sling, and a fresh blue nylon cast covered his wrist to the knuckles. His skin was uncharacteristically pale, his hair disheveled, and his gray logo fleece and jeans looked rumpled enough to have come from the hamper, which they probably did. Judy felt herself softening and went to him.

“How are you feeling?”

“I feel great, I feel awesome! I love you!” Frank hugged her close, then threw up his arms like he’d scored a touchdown, or maybe a three-pointer. “Life is good!”

“Good.” Judy gave him a grudging kiss on his grizzly cheek. His breath smelled like onions, but luckily, she loved onions.

“Thanks for coming to get me!”

“No problem, thanks for playing basketball.” Judy couldn’t help her sarcasm. She’d had to race back to Aunt Barb’s house and drop her off, leaving her aunt to face Iris’s death, Daniella’s disappearance, and her impending mastectomy, with only Judy’s mom for company. The entire weekend had been cut short because Judy wouldn’t have time to go back to Kennett Square tonight and still be at work tomorrow morning.

“Uh-oh. Are you pissed at me?” Frank pouted comically, his reaction exaggerated by pharmaceuticals.

“Let’s go home, Frank.” Judy retrieved his puffy black jacket from the chair. “Sit up please, and I’ll help you on with your coat.”

“Don’t be mad. I didn’t do it on purpose.” Frank sat up groggily, and Judy held his shoulder to support him.

“Of course you didn’t. Nobody hurts himself on purpose.”

“Right! Then why are you pissed?”

Judy picked up his right hand and began stuffing it in the sleeve of his coat. “You decided to play basketball with an already-injured hand, so it was completely foreseeable that you’d hurt yourself.”

“Wow, you sounded like such a lawyer just then!” Frank broke into a grin. “It’s because you said ‘foreseeable.’ Lawyers say that. Also Judge Judy.”

Judy draped the coat over his bad arm, thinking that it didn’t seem right that Frank kept doing dumb things and sticking her with a mess. Maybe that’s what was bothering her, the very injustice of their relationship. She turned when she heard a noise behind her, and the nurse entered the room, carrying a few sheets of paper.

“Here are your discharge papers, Frank.”

“Hi, Melissa!” Frank stood up, then listed to the left. “Whoa. My stomach feels funny.”

“That’s the Percs.” The nurse smiled at him, her eyes soft with sympathy. “Can you sign these for me?”

“Uh, sure, Melissa. Then again, maybe not.” Frank sank down into the bed, and Judy took the pen and papers from the nurse’s hand.

“I’ll sign. Drunky McDrunkerson is losing his sea legs.” Judy scribbled Frank’s name, handed back the pen and papers, and managed to get them both out of the ER and through the hospital exit doors onto a busy Seventh Street, where she took Frank’s arm. “You feel well enough to walk? I’m parked in the garage.”

“Totally,” Frank answered, though he leaned heavily on her arm as they waited for traffic to let up, then crossed the street. The morning sun had vanished, and gray clouds gathered in the sky. The city air smelled gritty and damp, after the freshness of the countryside.

“So you drove here?”

“Yeah, my truck’s in the garage. So we’ll have to come back for it tomorrow morning. I need it for work. I have to go out to Jersey to bid on a job tomorrow.”

Great,
Judy thought to herself, as they went through the door to the garage, found the grimy elevator, climbed alone into a cab with filthy corrugated walls, and watched the broken floor numbers light up. She was in no mood to talk, and Frank had fallen uncharacteristically silent. They got out of the elevator, and when they reached her car, Judy chirped it open and stowed Frank in the passenger seat, where he listed to the left, with a grateful smile.

“Thanks, babe. You take such good care of me.”

“No worries. Put on your seat belt.” Judy closed the door, then went around the car, tossed her bag in the back and climbed into the driver’s seat, then closed the door behind her.

“You’re mad at me, I know. I really am sorry.”

“Forget it,” Judy said, without meaning it. This wasn’t the time or the place to talk about anything that mattered, and she had to sort out her thoughts. She put on her seat belt, started the engine, and reversed out of the spot. The garage was dark and cramped even by Philly standards, and she steered toward the exit ramp, where they corkscrewed their way downward in darkness.

“Babe. You want to say I-told-you-so, so you should just go ahead and say it.”

“I don’t want to say I-told-you-so.” Judy navigated with care, if only to avoid his eye.

“Yes you do. Say it.”

“I wish I could get you to understand this, but I don’t want to be right. I just want you to do the right thing.”

“But it was an accident.”

“It was an accident when you injured it the first time.” Judy twisted the steering wheel, hugging the concrete center of the down ramp, like a descent into urban hell. “It’s not an accident when you injure it the second time, because you’re not supposed to be playing basketball.”

“What was I supposed to do? They didn’t have enough guys for a team. They couldn’t have entered the tournament.”

“You know why they didn’t have enough guys?” Judy finally reached the first floor, where she followed exit signs to the cashier. “Because most of the guys are doing what grown-ups do on a Saturday, not playing basketball.”

“What are you talking about? You can still be grown-up and play basketball.” Frank’s tone sounded hurt, but Judy didn’t look over. The cashier’s booth was coming up, and her purse was in the backseat. She’d forgotten to take her wallet out for parking money.

“Do you have any cash on you?” Judy asked, though she knew the answer. “I only need about ten bucks.”

“No.”

“How about a card?” Judy slid the parking ticket from the visor, knowing that answer, too.

“I maxed it out on supplies, so I shouldn’t use it.”

Of course you did,
Judy thought but didn’t say, simmering. She braked in the line at the booth, twisted around, and grappled in the backseat for her purse.

“Anyway, grown-ups play basketball. What do you think the NBA is?”

“That’s not the point.” Judy yanked open her purse, retrieved her wallet, and found her credit card. “You need to take care of yourself better. You need to think of yourself.”

“That’s selfish.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is. They needed me.”

“I needed you, too, Frank,” Judy said, her voice catching. She slid out her VISA card and gave the car some gas. She still couldn’t meet his eye.

“What did you need me for? Why?”

“Lots of reasons.” Judy hesitated to tell him, not wanting to make him feel guilty, which was ridiculous. He was in the wrong, so he should feel guilty about it, but she had trained him to think she didn’t need him. She steered to the booth, where she handed her credit card and ticket to an older man behind the thick, smudged glass. “Here we go, sir.”

“Like what, babe? What did you need me for?”

“I was in Kennett because Aunt Barb has breast cancer. She’s having a mastectomy tomorrow morning. My mom is already there, with her.”