When it was six inches from my face, survival mode kicked in. I thrust my weapon into her abdomen, found the trigger and pressed.
Filomena shot back and crumpled to the floor. The pillow flew into the dark. As she lay on the carpet, spasming, her eyes wide and staring, I slipped out of Nancy’s bed, holding the stun gun in front of me in case I needed to zap her again, but the first two-and-half million volts the manufacturer had promised in the guarantee printed on the box seemed to have done the trick.
I turned on the bedside lamp and leaned down. Filomena was still breathing, thank goodness, but she’d lost control of her bladder. I circumnavigated the spreading puddle that was soaking into the carpet, borrowed the sash from Nancy’s terrycloth bathrobe and tied Filomena’s legs together at the ankles. I used a clove hitch with an extra wrap. Paul would have been proud of my knotsmanship.
Then I punched speed dial on my cell phone. ‘Detective Powers,’ I said when he picked up. ‘I need to report an attempted murder.’
I reached Naddie at Spa Paradiso, where she’d taken Nancy for a massage. ‘Mission accomplished,’ I told my friend, who’d been standing by, waiting for my call. While I debriefed Naddie I stared daggers at Filomena, waiting for her to stop twitching and come around.
‘You murdered Masud, didn’t you?’ I said finally, when Filomena’s tongue had begun working again. ‘Why?’
She stared at me for a moment, and I thought she’d decided to stay silent. But then she slurred: ‘I was tired of having sex. The first time wasn’t so bad, in his home when his wife was teaching her computer class, but then he wanted it anytime and just about anywhere.’ She snorted. ‘He didn’t get much variety at home. I think it excited him to be a bad, bad boy.’ She flexed her fingers and winced. ‘Masud suspected his wife was sleeping with my brother… that is, how do you say, a big laugh. But Masud, he believed it, and wanted to teach Safa a lesson.’
‘Was she? Sleeping with Raniero, I mean?’
Filomena laughed out loud. ‘Not unless my brother had decided to, how do you say, bat for both teams.’ She shifted uncomfortably. ‘Raniero has a boyfriend in New York City. Can I sit up?’
‘OK,’ I said, ‘but don’t expect me to help you.’
I watched as she pulled her knees up and scooted backwards along the carpet, away from the wet spot in which she had been lying.
Filomena leaned her head back against the dust ruffle of the sofa. ‘So, I told Masud “no.”’
‘And?’
‘He didn’t like it. But he knew about the meat – that’s how it started in the first place.’ She smiled. ‘He could have gotten me fired.’
‘So you blamed the kickbacks on your brother?’
Filomena shrugged. ‘Raniero or me, it does not matter. For either one it is final de la carrera.’
‘Your confession will clear Raniero’s name, Filomena. He will be fine.’
Filomena laughed. ‘Who is confessing?’
I pointed to Nancy’s bookshelf. In the space I’d made between Madame Bovary and Jane Eyre sat a plush bear. ‘See that teddy bear?’ I said. ‘It’s a wireless nanny cam. Nadine Gray has been at the spa, recording everything that happened tonight.’
Filomena used her arms to push herself up into a sitting position. ‘Bitch!’
I waved my Lady Lifeguard. ‘Stay where you are, Filomena, or I’ll zap you again, I swear.’
‘Pink?’ said a gravelly voice behind me. ‘Your stun gun is pink?’
‘A portion of the proceeds go to breast cancer research, Detective Powers. Just doing my part.’
After reading Filomena her rights, Detective Powers and a female police officer led her away. Filomena’s face was streaked with tears and her hands were shackled behind her with a pair of plastic tie handcuffs. When she saw me she ducked her head, refusing to meet my eyes.
I opened my mouth but Powers silenced me with a death ray. I stepped aside to let them pass and followed a respectful distance behind as they trundled their prisoner through the lobby, down the front steps and tucked her into the back of the police car.
Power’s partner climbed into the front passenger seat. Powers opened the driver’s side door, paused, looked up at me looking down at him from the porch, and came to a decision.
Seconds later he stood next to me on the porch. Officer Powers seemed to be weighing how much to tell me. Suddenly he squared his shoulders and said, ‘It took us a long time to process those goddam glass balls, but we found a handprint out there, on a ball from the rowboat. It belongs to Filomena.’
I frowned. ‘But Filomena could have touched those balls at any time. I’m sure I touched one when I first went out there with Nancy.’
‘Yes, but two of the partials we found were made with Masud Abaza’s blood.’
I stared at Powers for a long moment. ‘I see. So you didn’t really need me to…’
He cocked a forefinger. ‘Exactly.’
‘And another thing,’ he said. Powers rapped on the window until his partner rolled it down. He leaned in, reached across her lap and lifted a large Ziploc bag off the dashboard. ‘Do you know a Ysabelle Milanesi?’
‘It’s Izzy’s scrapbook! Wherever did you find it?’
Powers nodded toward the back seat of the patrol car where Filomena sat, head bowed, still refusing to meet my eyes. ‘We executed a search warrant on her apartment. Found it there.’
‘Izzy will be over the moon,’ I said. ‘Do you know how important it is?’
‘Old photos. I figured it had sentimental value.’
‘Much more than that, Detective. When can she have it back?’
‘I’ll let you know. If it’s needed as evidence in the Abaza murder, it’ll be a while. If not…’ He shrugged. ‘Sooner rather than later, I should think.’
‘Take good care of that, Detective Powers. It’s all Izzy has left of her family.’
‘I promise.’
TWENTY-FIVE
‘The Inner Harbor is a historic seaport, tourist attraction, and landmark of the city of Baltimore, Maryland, USA. It was described by the Urban Land Institute in 2009 as “the model for post-industrial waterfront redevelopment around the world.”’
Announcement of 2009 ULI Awards for Excellence,
Urban Land Institute, Atlanta, April 24, 2009.
Angie and I sat on the porch like two old friends, quietly rocking. I’d brought my knitting with me: a sweater for my granddaughter, Chloe, that I’d started back during the summer Olympic Games, the ones in Beijing. The sun had slipped behind a cloud and there was a slight chill to the air, a harbinger of fall, which was just around the corner.
‘How’s your mother-in-law, Ange?’
‘Surprisingly fine. I think she knew all along, deep down, that her relationship with Richard was a fantasy. Know what she said to me?’
‘What?’
‘“The tragedy of growing old is that I’m a young person in an old body.”’
‘Oscar Wilde?’ I wondered.
‘No. Christie McSpadden.’
I thought about Nancy Harper, living in her eighteen-year-old mind with no more worries than whether Frank was going to ask her to the prom. ‘Well, on that cheerful note…’ I began.
‘Yeah, I know. It’s almost time for lunch. I wonder when they’ll have Raniero back? That mac and cheese yesterday. Bleah. Mother wanted me to join her today, but nuh-uh.’
‘He might never be back, Angie. Last I heard he was working with a deal lawyer from Skadden Arps, trying to keep his restaurant plans from falling through.’
‘What happened?’ Angie asked.
‘When Lawrence Levine found out it was being partially financed by the sale of artwork stolen by the Nazis, he decided to pull the plug.’
‘Levine? Larry Levine the Quik Loan King? That Levine?’