On the plus side, I would have legal representation. True, my attorney would be a notorious mouthpiece for the mob, but he was very experienced and I wouldn’t have to pay for him. Since I was a friend of the family and had been scooped up in a sweep of the Gambellos, Stella assured me that “the boss” was going to take care of me—which included securing and paying for my counsel. Although I realized that requesting a public defender might better demonstrate law-abiding propriety on my part, I decided I’d prefer to stick with the Shy Don’s lawyer. He routinely kept killers and extortionists out of prison, after all, so I hoped my case would be a cakewalk for him.
But even with my legal fees covered by Victor Gambello, I was really worried about money. The cops had raided Stella’s at the height of the evening, before the customers, many of whom had been camped at their tables all night, had paid their checks and left. So I had only collected tips from the early crowd, the people who ate dinner and then left Bella Stella to attend festivities elsewhere. Which meant that when Lopez—that bastard!—arrested me and put me in the back of the police van with all the Gambello prisoners, I only had about one-third of the earnings I was counting on for the night. The rest would have rolled in later, around two o’clock in the morning, if the place hadn’t been busted.
I wondered how long I could last on the quantity of cash that I estimated had been in my server’s pouch at midnight. And when would Bella Stella reopen for business? Not soon, I suspected—not with its owner facing indictment. OCCB wouldn’t have staged such a big bust tonight if they didn’t have a strong case.
With Bella Stella off the menu, so to speak, I wondered how soon I could get another job—and collect my first earnings from it. In fact, could I get another job, now that I had a recent arrest on my record? What if, despite the Shy Don’s lawyer defending me, this arrest turned into a conviction?
Damn Lopez.
If I got out of jail for assaulting him, the first thing I was going to do was kill him. He deserved it.
“Hey, handsome,” one of the hookers suddenly said in a sultry voice. “You lookin’ for a party?”
“No, I’m looking for my assailant.”
My head jerked up the second I recognized Lopez’s voice. I saw him standing outside our cage, looking even more exhausted than he had during the bust, as if he was by now running only on the memory of fumes.
Serves him right.
He had replaced his bulletproof vest with a navy blue pullover sweater. I resented this, since that was a good color for him. It brought out the blue of his eyes, flattered his olive complexion, and made his coal-black hair look even darker. The fact that it was a ratty-looking old wool sweater with unraveling cuffs didn’t seem to mute its effect on me.
I had a sudden, unbidden memory of clumsily helping him pull a different sweater over his head exactly a week ago. It fell to the floor of my apartment, quickly followed by the rest of his clothes—which he was frantically shedding as we clung and kissed and embraced, feverish and uninhibited with each other, his ravenous mouth on mine, his hands all over my naked body . . .
I sat bolt upright and started choking on a sort of shocked hiccup, appalled by where my thoughts had just wandered based on one quick look at the tired, shabbily-dressed cop who had arrested me tonight.
“Are you all right, Esther?” he asked.
Our gazes locked. I swallowed, cleared my throat, and composed myself.
“What do you want, detective?” I asked coldly.
“Oh, I get it,” said the hooker who had greeted him. “You’re the cop she decked?”
“I’m the one,” Lopez said wearily.
Most of my fellow prisoners perked up, looking at him with interest now.
“Oooh, honey,” the same woman said to Lopez. “What ever did you do to make her wanna wallop such a pretty face?”
“He slept with me and then never called,” I said tersely, rising from my bench.
“Seriously?” She looked at Lopez with a much less flattering expression now. “That is so tacky!”
“I think there are still some people in the tri-state area who haven’t heard,” Lopez said to me. “Do you want to alert the media? It would save time.”
“God, men are all the same,” said another of the prostitutes. “Don’t you just hate them?”
“You’re a bum!” Stella told Lopez.
“I’m going to be sick!” said the drunk coed with the weak stomach.
“Again?”
We all took a few steps back.
She burped, then said, “Never mind. False alarm.”
The society girl who’d been hitting on me earlier stood up, pointed at me, and said to Lopez, “She assaulted me, too! I want to press charges. Against her and against the department—for putting this animal in here with me!”
“What did you do now?” Lopez asked me.
“I defended my virtue,” I said crankily.
He lifted a brow. “Surely it’s a little late for that?”
“Oh, don’t you dare—”
“Kidding,” he said. “Kidding.”
“You are in no position to kid me,” I reminded him.
“I guess not,” he admitted.
“Where’s my lawyer?” Stella asked, seething with impatience. “Isn’t he here yet?”
“Yeah, he got here about twenty minutes ago. He’s meeting first with Ronnie and Jimmy and Tommy and . . . oh, all the rest of them,” Lopez replied. “He’ll see you after he’s done with them.”
“How long will that take?” she demanded.
“I’m guessing you could make a dent in War and Peace while you’re waiting.”
“I ain’t got all night!”
“Actually, you do,” Lopez pointed out.
“Why, you rotten, lousy, stinking—”
“Hey, I’m not the guy who sent only one lawyer here to represent all of you,” he said. “Take it up with Victor Gambello if you’re not happy.”
“Hmph.”
Turning away from Stella, Lopez nodded to the uniformed policewoman who stood nearby. She unlocked our cell as he said, “Come on, Esther. Let’s go.”
“Huh?”
As the cell door opened, Stella stepped protectively in front of me and eyed Lopez. “Where are you taking her?”
“Relax, Stella. We’re letting her go.”
“You are?” I said in surprise.
“Yeah.” He gestured for me to exit the cell. “Come on.”
I looked doubtfully at Stella, not wanting to leave her here. When she realized why I was hesitating, she shook her head and patted my arm. “Don’t worry about me, kid. I’ll be outta here pronto. I just gotta wait for my lawyer.”
“And for a judge,” Lopez said.
“Oh, shit,” she said in disgust. “I forgot. It’s New Year’s Day.”
Stella sighed, rolled her eyes, and sat down on a bench, settling in for a long wait. I asked if she wanted me to bring anything here for her, now that I was evidently being set free; but she said her assistant was taking care of that. So I gave her a quick hug, wished the other inmates the best of luck with the legal system, and exited my cell.
I felt a rush of relief as I followed Lopez down the hall and left the holding area. I was out of there! And apparently not going to appear before a judge, after all, let alone face being convicted of assaulting a police officer.