Free Lady Killer by Lisa Scottoline

prison.”
    Mary blinked. “But there’s palm trees.”
    “That’s a fake background they have in the joint. Didn’t you know that?”
    Uh. “No.” Mary set it down. “I was just looking at the photos, and they seem so happy. When did it turn bad?”
    Giulia squinted, thinking. “About two years ago.”
    “What happened?” Mary opened a drawer in the breakfront, but it was empty, then reached for the next.
    “He’s old school. He wanted her home at night, dinner on the table, makin’ babies. Like a homebody, a wife. But T’s not that type. She liked to have fun.” Giulia’s expression darkened. “Then he started drinkin’ more and more. I hate him, I hate the way he treated her. He was a loser and he blamed her for everything, like that he wasn’t movin’ up fast as he wanted.”
    “In the Mob, you mean?”
    “Yeah, the Mob . Oooh.” Giulia made claw-hands with her fingernails, but Mary walked into the kitchen area.
    “So why did she stay with him?”
    “In the beginnin’, she kep’ hopin’ it would get better, then she was too afraid to leave him. I woulda been, too.” Giulia crunched her Altoid. “The only way out was if he dumped her. My husband says if you’re with a wiseguy, it’s like a roach motel. You’re gettin’ in, but you ain’t gettin’ out.”
    Mary glanced around the kitchen, so clean it appeared unused. She walked over to a pad under the wall phone, and nothing was written there. She asked, “When did he get involved with the Mob?”
    “After high school, I think.”
    “I don’t remember that. His family wasn’t in the Mob, were they?”
    “Sure, and his brother might even be made.”
    “There’s something to be proud of.” Mary started searching the kitchen drawers, which contained only ladles, silverware, and the like. While she looked, she tried to remember what she knew about his family. He had an uncle who had raised him and an older sister. She didn’t remember him talking about a brother, but most of their conversations were about school or the Gallic war.
    “Anyways, we haven’t hung here for a while. My house is our hang.”
    “I didn’t see Trish’s purse. Did you?” Mary thought that Trish’s big black bag would have stood out on the sea of white.
    “I don’t see it, either.” Giulia frowned, looking around.
    “I keep mine in the living room.”
    “So do I.”
    “Hers isn’t here, not that I saw. If it’s not upstairs, then she took it with her, which supports our theory, too.” Mary opened the next drawer. “She took her purse and coat.”
    “Our workin’ theory is workin’!” Giulia grinned, and Mary went through the contents of the drawer, but it held only potholders and napkins.
    “Doesn’t she have a junk drawer? I thought everybody had a junk drawer.”
    “I dunno,” Giulia answered, just as Mary reached the last drawer and pulled it out. It was a mess.
    “Bingo.” Mary rifled through the drawer, keeping an eye out for receipts or anything that might suggest where they could be. Or maybe even the diary Trish had mentioned, or the gun. But there was nothing inside the drawer except old Chinese take-out menus, Valu-Pak coupons, and a YMCA brochure, along with pencils, pens, matches, and more matches. “You were telling me about how they were in the beginning, and why it went wrong.”
    “Okay, right. At first, T liked it he was connected, and we all thought it was cool. My husband’s got a plumbing supply business, and Missy sees a maitre d’ at Harrah’s. Yo broke up with a guy works the docks. T was the one who got the big catch.” Giulia leaned against the counter. “Least that’s what we thought, then.”
    Mary kept looking in the junk drawer, but wasn’t finding anything, which made sense because she didn’t know what she was looking for.
    “He was so crazy about her. He loved her since high school. T was everything to him.”
    Mary felt a stab of envy, then caught herself. Was she really jealous of an