Falsely Accused (41 page)

Lucy did not squirm or avoid Marlene's gaze, but looked her boldly in the face and replied, “If it was something about you and me, I would. Like if I promised to do something and you asked me did I do it and I didn't I would tell you.”

“But what if it was, like, a crime? Would you tell me?”

Lucy thought about this for some time. “I would if you asked me and I thought it, well, it wouldn't hurt anybody.” She hesitated. “But God is the judge of everything, isn't He? Sister Theresa says, God judges the truth in our hearts.”

Marlene felt a stone rise in her throat; she had made this and would have to live with it. What a rocky path, she thought, and then she said, “Listen! A great man, a priest, said this a long time ago:
La falsita non dico mai mai, ma la verita non a ogniuno.
It means, I never, never tell a lie, but the truth is not for everyone. Do you understand that?”

Lucy smiled a small Sicilian-Jewish smile. “Of course, Mommy,” she said, and she sang the short Chinese phrase she had used months ago when they had played with the guns. Then Marlene watched her darling little accessory to murder in the first degree run across the pavement into first grade.

And Marlene thought that, yeah, God would judge, judge her and judge Lucy, and she imagined herself arguing at the Throne, probably against a Jesuit, that yeah, it was murder, but here was Clancy, still a hero, instead of a disgraced slimeball, out of a job or in jail, and there'd be an inspector's funeral and the Emerald Society would play “Flowers of the Forest” on the pipes, and they'd fire a salute and the pale woman would get the flag folded into a blue, starry triangle, plus the pension, plus the insurance, and without a doubt the Department would pass the hat so that little what's-his-name could stay in the fancy institution, and besides, the son-of-a-bitch deserved it, and let God sort it out, because she, Marlene Ciampi Karp, could not.

“Hector's back,” said Karp when Marlene returned with Lucy that afternoon. “Really? When?”

“A little past noon. He just walked up the stairs and knocked on the door. I fed him some tuna and he went and sacked out. The poor kid looked beat.”

“Did he say anything about where he was?”

“Oh, yeah! Hector? Hector likes to keep it close. Oh, also, his mom called. We had a nice talk in broken English. I don't think we should have any trouble getting her settled here. Stupenagel has taken her up.”

Marlene forced a conventional smile. “Oh, that's nice,” she said. Superconducting magnets were pulling her toward the gun safe.

He had replaced the real pistol, the good boy. She took it out and sniffed the muzzle, which stank of burnt powder. She slipped the thing into her bag and headed for the door.

“Hey, where're you going?” called Karp.

“Oh, stupid me, I left something I need at the office. I'll be back in twenty minutes. No, you stay here, Sweety!”

She drove to West Street, to the abandoned pier where gays held parties on summer nights. She walked to the end of the wooden structure, sat down on the edge, and disassembled the pistol. Then she compounded a felony by throwing each piece as far as she could in different directions, there to join generations of other murder weapons on the bed of the slow and stately Hudson.

The next day, Saturday, was the first real hot New York day of the year. Marlene Ciampi was wearing a T-shirt that said Ray's Pizza, in white on blue. Her daughter was wearing one with the line about a woman needing a man like a fish needs a bicycle, in black on yellow. Behind the daughter trailed a wire cart loaded with soiled laundry, and behind that trailed the huge black dog.

They were walking down Mott Street in Chinatown. The rain of the past week and today's heat had summoned forth the traditional rich scents of the district—anise, hot oil, rancid meat, rice water, and steam, all on top of that ineffable odor, clean New York. There was a potsy court drawn on the pavement in pink chalk, and Lucy left her cart and picked up a filthy bottle cap from the gutter. She tossed it for a turn of onesies.

Marlene watched Lucy bounce fairy-light through the squares. She looks like a regular kid, she thought, clinging to the hope that this was indeed largely the case, that her offspring was not, in fact, an embryo Duchess of Malfi.

They went into Wing's Hand Laundry and passed the dirty stuff over the scarred counter, receiving a blue ticket in return and a brown paper package of clean stuff. Marlene paid, and they were about to leave when she had a sudden thought.

“Lucy,” she said, “say your Chinese saying to Mr. Wing.”

“
Shen gao huang di yuan,
” said Lucy. Middle high high high low.

“Do you know what that means, Mr. Wing?” asked Marlene.

Mr. Wing had to think for a moment, because the saying was in Mandarin and not Cantonese, but it was a familiar saying nonetheless, one he had lived by all his life.

“It means: The mountains are high, and the Emperor is far away,” said Mr. Wing, and then wondered why the white ghost woman with the little girl and the demon dog was laughing until tears sprang from her eyes.

A BIOGRAPHY OF ROBERT K. TANENBAUM

Robert K. Tanenbaum is the
New York Times
bestselling author of twenty-five legal thrillers and has an accomplished legal career of his own. Before his first book was published, Tanenbaum had already been the Bureau Chief of the Criminal Courts, had run the Homicide Bureau, and had been in charge of the training program for the legal staff for the New York County District Attorney's Office. He also served as Deputy Chief Counsel to the Congressional Committee investigations into the assassinations of President John F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr. In his professional career, Tanenbaum has never lost a felony case. His courtroom experiences bring his books to life, especially in his bestselling series featuring prosecutor Roger “Butch” Karp and his wife, Marlene Ciampi.

Tanenbaum was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York. He attended the University of California at Berkeley on a basketball scholarship, and remained at Cal, where he earned his law degree from the prestigious Boalt Hall School of Law. After graduating from Berkeley Law, Tanenbaum moved back to New York to work as an assistant district attorney under the legendary New York County DA Frank Hogan. Tanenbaum then served as Deputy Chief Counsel in charge of the Congressional investigations into the assassinations of President John F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr.

The blockbuster novel
Corruption of Blood
(1994), is a fictionalized account of his experience in Washington, D.C.

Tanenbaum returned to the West Coast and began to serve in public office. He was elected to the Beverly Hills City Council in 1986 and twice served as the mayor of Beverly Hills. It was during this time that Tanenbaum began his career as a novelist, drawing from the many fascinating stories of his time as a New York ADA. His successful debut novel,
No Lesser Plea
(1987), introduces Butch Karp, an assistant district attorney who is battling for justice, and Marlene Ciampi, his associate and love interest. Tanenbaum's subsequent twenty-two novels portrayed Karp and his crime fighting family and eclectic colleagues facing off against drug lords, corrupt politicians, international assassins, the mafia, and hard-core violent felons.

He has had published eight recent novels as part of the series, as well as two nonfiction titles:
The Piano Teacher
(1987), exploring his investigation and prosecution of a recidivist psychosexual killer, and
Badge of the Assassin
(1979), about his prosecution of cop killers, which was made into a movie starring James Woods as Tanenbaum.

Tanenbaum and his wife of forty-three years have three children. He currently resides in California where he has taught Advanced Criminal Procedure at the Boalt Hall School of Law and maintains a private law practice.

Tanenbaum as a toddler in the early 1940s. He was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York.

A five-year-old Tanenbaum in Brooklyn, near Ocean Parkway.

Tanenbaum's family in the early 1950s. From left to right: Bob; his mother, Ruth (a teacher and homemaker); his father, Julius (businessman and lawyer); and his older brother, Bill.

Tanenbaum's high school varsity basketball photo from the '59–'60 season. He played shooting guard, center, and forward, and earned an athletic scholarship to the University of California, Berkeley, where he continued to play.

Tanenbaum shooting during a basketball game his junior year of high school. He wore the number 14 throughout high school and college.