Mistaken Identity

“Let them try,” Lou scoffed, and winked at Mary, who sat off to the side, looking worried nonetheless.

“Be

Lou sighed. “Is this what I came back for? To get nagged? At least men lawyers don’t nag you.”

“Fine.” Be

Lou looked over his shoulder at the bodyguards. “Split up the kids? Be

But Be

They worked into the night preparing the death penalty phase of the case, transforming the conference room into a telethon headquarters. Be

“I’m whipped,” Mary said, brushing her hair from her eyes, and Judy looked tired.

Even Lou, previously battery-powered, had come down from his high. He hung up the phone from his last call, beat. “Let’s call it a night.”

“Agreed,” Be

“What about you?” Judy asked, picking up her bag.

“I’m staying for a while,” Be

Lou folded his arms. “No, I’ll put the girls in a cab with Ike, who will take the girls home and come back for you. I’ll take care of my own ass.”

“Lou, we’re not discussing this again.”

“You’re right, we’re not. You’re nagging, and I’m ignoring you. It’s my marriage all over again.” Lou stood up and gestured to the bodyguards across the way, who slipped into their sportjackets.

“Lou-”

“Oh, will you shut up? See you tomorrow. Let’s go, kids.” Lou left the conference room and met Mike and Ike in the hallway.

“Shit,” Be

“No can do,” Ike said. “Lou’s not the client, you are.”

“What?”

“We can’t protect Lou. We have to stay with you. It’s in the contract.”

“What contract? I didn’t sign any contract.”

“Our contract with the security company, and the security company’s contract with the insurance company. We’re only insured to protect you. If something goes wrong, we have to be with you or our company gets sued.”

Be

Mike shrugged shoulders like the continental shelf. “That’s what they told us. Stay with the designated client.”

Lou smiled. “See? It’s lawyers, Rosato. They complicate everything. Can’t even jump off a diving board anymore because of lawyers. Lady lawyers, probably. They nag you, then they sue you.” Lou hit the elevator button in a jaunty way, and the doors opened. He stepped inside and took the associates in with him. “Come, ladies. I left my car at home, I’ll escort you home in a cab. See ya, Rosato,” he said as the doors shut.

“He’s so damn stubborn,” Be

“They all are.”

“Who? Old people?”

“Men,” Mike answered, and Ike looked over.

91

Judy and Lou dropped Mary off in the cab, then continued down Pine Street in silence. Judy looked out the window, too sleepy to make conversation, which was fine with Lou. He unbuttoned his jacket and relaxed in the torn seat. His car would have been comfier but he’d left it at home in case it had been made at the cemetery or the police station.

Lou watched the cardboard tree swing from the rearview mirror. Fu

Lou looked idly out the window. Antique shops lined the narrow street, and it was too late for anyone to be on the sidewalks. The cab stopped at a traffic light, and Lou read the sign of one of the shops, MEYER amp; DAUGHTER. A ski

Judy nodded. “I bet it’s early American. That’s all they have in there, real Colonial pieces. The chair probably cost a thousand dollars.”

“Get out. Hardly wide enough for a tush.”

“Colonial tushes were smaller.”

“Ha!” Lou shook his head. “I love it. For old chairs, we pay through the nose. For old people, we can’t be bothered.” The cab lurched forward, its interior brighter than before from headlights behind. The car in back of them was tail-gating. But why, at this hour of night? With no other traffic? Lou stiffened instinctively and twisted around.

The sight shocked him. There was a patrol car on their bumper. The lights on its roof blazed to life, filling the cab with red, white, and blue. Patrol car number 98.

Fear jolted Lou to alertness. It was Citrone, alone. No siren to attract attention. A cop on a night stop could get away with anything. Lou had seen it happen.

The cab was slowing down, and Lou pounded on the plastic divider. “Keep driving!” he ordered. “Go, go, go!”

“You nuts?” the cabbie asked, recoiling. “It’s the cops.”

Judy looked back at the lights, the patrol car. “Lou?” she asked, panicky.

“Stay calm,” Lou ordered. He would’ve locked the doors but he wanted Judy out of the picture. The cabbie pulled to the curb and got out. A white spotlight seared through the back window. Beside it stood a tall silhouette whose arm ended in a gun. Citrone was coming at them. Lou’s heart fluttered. He was packing, but couldn’t chance anything until Judy was free.

“Get out of the car!” Citrone shouted. He pulled open the back door and yanked Lou out of the cab, jamming the revolver into his sternum.

“Relax, Citrone.” Lou flattened against the cab, momentarily breathless. The gun bored into his chest. In a second he could be dead. He’d had a good run, it wouldn’t be the worst thing. But there was Judy. “I’ll go with you. Leave the kid.” Lou took a step forward, but Citrone drilled him back with the gun barrel.

“Get out of the car, counselor!” Citrone called to Judy. “Make it fast!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Judy said, her heart in her throat. She slid from the backseat and gasped when she saw the gun. She edged away reflexively, her back bumping into the cab, staring openmouthed at Citrone. His face became angles and shadows in the blinding light. His eyes were merciless black slits. He would kill them both. Judy struggled to think through her terror.

The astonished cabbie put up his hands. “I stopped at the light, Officer, I swear. I came to a full stop.”

Citrone’s gaze darted sideways while he kept the revolver flush against Lou’s shirt. “Get lost or you’re dead,” he told the cabbie. “Come back for the car.” The driver’s eyes went wide and he ran off, his legs pumping.

“Nice police work,” Lou said. “Now let the kid go. She won’t say anything.”

“Let her go? She attacked a cop on a routine traffic stop. The cab had a broken taillight.” With a swift kick Citrone shattered the cab’s brake light. Red plastic shards clattered onto the street.