Page 85 of Feared

“What if he hired somebody to kill John? Maybe he told him to make it look like a burglary. Anybody can see the fire escape from the alley, and John’s address is public record. It wouldn’t be a hard murder to plan, to do us in.” Mary thought a minute. “Do you know where Lou is?”

“He told me he was going back to John’s to look for more street cameras. There were no lights or motion detectors, so Idon’t know how much you could see from the fire escape anyway.”

“Let me text him, see if he got anything.” Mary picked up her phone, scrolled to the text function and sent Lou a text:Having any luck? Lately I’m thinking it’s Machiavelli but Bennie says I’m crazy. For a change.

Bennie rose. “DiNunzio, I think you need to go home. We have a big day tomorrow, a tough one. Declan won’t be able to come in for the service. He’s on trial in York.”

“But Bennie, don’t you think I could be right? Maybe we’re missing something. Maybe we’re missing the forest for the trees. Machiavelli could be behind everything, all of it—”

“He’s not the Wizard of Oz. This is not a discussion for now.” Bennie picked up her purse and messenger bag. “You need to go home and so do I. Sadly, I have to draft a eulogy for John. It’s time for us to think about him.”

“I am,” Mary shot back. “This is about finding his killer. And what if it really is Machiavelli?” Suddenly her text alert sounded, and she picked up the phone and read the text, from Lou.So far, no luck. Will keep you posted. BTW you’re crazy.

“Was it Lou?”

“Yes, and he says no luck yet.”

“Come on, let’s go.” Bennie sighed. “We have to bury our dead.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Mary sat with Anthony, Anne, Marshall, and Lou, listening to Bennie’s eulogy next to her father, her mother, and The Tonys. Up ahead, Judy sat in the front row with her arm around the back of William’s wheelchair, next to John’s aunt and uncle, Susan and Mel Hodge, their gray heads downcast. The memorial service was held at the William J. Lowell Funeral Home, a large converted brownstone in Society Hill, the most historic section of the city.

A hundred mourners, including fellow lawyers, friends from law school, and even clients like Jim and Sanjay from London Technologies filled the large, rectangular room, which had authentic colonial wainscoting painted a creamy white, high plaster ceilings with refined crown molding, and polished-bronze sconces between tall windows with bubbled glass. Somebody had commented to Mary that John would’ve loved the setting, but that gave her no comfort. John should have been alive, not in a bronze urn set on a flowery table at the front of the room.

From the lectern, Bennie was saying, “… John was loved by all of his friends, and so many of you came here today, even from his law school days…”

Mary tried to face front and listen, though it was hard to look at the urn, and her gaze strayed to her hands, folded around her belly in her lap, in a black maternity dress. She felt the baby kick, and it struck her as heartbreaking that she was carrying new life in the same moment that she was mourning the death of someone who was too young to die, much less so brutally.

“… and John was so valued by his clients as well, and I see many of you here, to honor him today, despite your busy schedules…”

Mary had thought about John’s murder all last night, wondering whether Machiavelli, Shanahan, or a burglar had killed him. She sensed it was Machiavelli, but when she’d told Anthony her new theory over dinner, he’d thought she was as crazy as Bennie and Lou did. She hadn’t been surprised to find that the media in front of the funeral home did not include Amanda Sussman, confirming that Sussman must’ve been working for Machiavelli. Anyway, she had been too tired to think about it anymore by bedtime and had cried all the tears she could cry until she had seen Judy this morning, grief-stricken even as she comforted William, who wept openly through the pastor’s words at the beginning of the service.

“… The temptation is to say something profound about life and death at times like this, but my experience with death has taught me, if anything, that death is a terrible teacher. We don’t learn from each other in death, we learn from each other in life, and we love each other in the living years. Death is loss, and what it leaves us is each other, sharing the loss, missing John, and holding each other as we go forward without him…”

Mary heard Judy hiccup in the front row, beginning to sob, her pink head bowing like a drooping petunia, and it was all Mary could do not to go comfort her. Judy sagged against William, the two of them sharing their broken hearts, though the two halves could never become one whole, Mary knew. When she had lost her first husband, her parents had beenbeside themselves, but together their family could not mend the pieces of their hearts, and their lives, which lay shattered. Only time had accomplished that, and it had taken awhile.

“… I had not met John’s brother, William, until today, but I have certainly heard about him, and so had anybody who knew John. John adored William and was completely devoted to him, and now I understand why. And I’m delighted to see the resemblance between the two brothers, for they have the same smile, the same curly hair, and even the same glasses…”

William laughed, then it trailed into a sob, his curved back shaking uncontrollably in his new suit, and Judy put her arm around him, holding him close, as Bennie continued, summing up.

“… And ladies and gentlemen, friends and neighbors, and most especially John’s family and Judy, let these be my last words today, and the end of this memorial service. John lived a life that we could all be proud of, every single day. He held himself to the highest standard in his professional and in his personal life. He stood up for what he believed, no matter what the cost. No matter who disagreed with him, either.”

Mary felt the words resonate in her chest, thinking back to what John had told them all, about how out of place he had felt at the firm. It hadn’t been easy for him to say or for them to hear, but it was honest. Mary gave Bennie credit for seeing that as a strength in John, even though it had rocked the firm.

“John Foxman was one of the finest lawyers I have ever met and one of the finest young men. Let’s live our lives the way he did, and honor him. Deepest condolences to his brother, William, his aunt, Susan, and uncle, Mel Hodge, and to all of his friends and colleagues here today. Thank you very much.”

Bennie stepped away to the sound of renewed sniffling, then went to check on Judy and William. Mary wiped her eyes as the pastor returned to the front of the room, said some concluding words and a final benediction, then finally gave the bronze urn holding John’s remains to William and ended the memorial service, dismissing everyone.

Mary felt so numb and sad through the long, painful slog of saying good-bye to John’s friends and clients, including Jim and Sanjay, then she had to make sure her parents and The Tonys were okay. They all looked teary-eyed and frail in unaccustomed black, and Mary and Anthony ushered them and The Tonys out of the emptying funeral home behind Marshall, Lou, Judy, William, and John’s Aunt Susan and Uncle Mel, a forlorn group heading for a private lunch reception at a nearby restaurant.

The front door of the funeral home stood open, letting in a bright shaft of sunlight, and Mary held Anthony’s hand, taking up the back of the line. Mourners filed outside, and she and Anthony had almost reached the threshold when shouting broke out outside, out on the street. Mary turned to Anthony, alarmed. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes?” Anthony craned his neck over the crowd. “Oh no!”

Suddenly the mourners shifted forward, and the shouting became a chant, “Justice for John! Justice for John! Justice for John!”

Mary stepped out of the funeral home, horrified to see what was going on. Mourners were being confronted by a flock of angry protesters, chanting and pumping homemade signs that read,#JUSTICE FOR JOHN! ROSATO & DINUNZIO CRYING HYPOCRITE TEARS! ROSATO & DINUNZIO—KILLER LAW FIRM!

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