When Smiles Fade (51 page)

Salvatore leaned down to look at her through the open car window. “What the fuck?” he blurted out, seeing that she was covered in blood. “Have you been hurt?”

“No, I’m fine. But do you remember Pete? Ethan’s friend,” she reminded him.

Salvatore nodded.

“Well, he’s not doing too good anymore. I need to clean up and get rid of a gun and a knife. Can you help?” She already knew what his answer would be.

“Of course,” he said in a businesslike manner.

Emma followed the three men back to Salvatore’s apartment in her own car. Having showered and dressed in a jogging suit she had left behind when she moved out, she walked into the living room and handed Tony the plastic bag they had given her earlier. Inside the bag were both weapons, her clothes, shoes, and purse.

“You’ll take care of this, right?” she inquired.

Tony nodded, took the bag, and left the apartment. Emma turned her attention to Salvatore, who offered her a gin and tonic.

“No, thanks,” she told him, declining the drink. “I have to get back to Doubles. My shift starts in two hours.”

“What happened, Em?” Salvatore inquired. “Why didn’t you call me to take care of this for you?”

“I found out that Pete raped Gracie. Isabella is his daughter,” she said expressionlessly. “I really lost it this time. After I read her journal, all I could think about was how I was going to kill him. I just flew on impulse and that just isn’t like me. I should have planned things so it wasn’t so blatant. Salvatore, it was like I was possessed. After all that time I protected Izzy from Ethan and now I go and lose all control of myself. I let my rage get the better of me. I never even stopped to think about Izzy, not once until after it was over. This has never happened to me before.”

“I see,” was all he said, but he regretted that Emma hadn’t called him to handle this for her. She had made an epic mistake. She pulled off a sloppy kill and he suspected there would be a price to pay for her lack of self control. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I have a friend who can get you another car in less than an hour. We’ll take care of your car. With all that blood you were covered in, we can’t take any chances of the cops finding the car. Do you get my point?” Salvatore asked her.

“Yes,” she said, a bit surprised that she hadn’t thought about it herself.

“How is Izzy?” he asked fondly.

“She’s fine, Salvatore. Can you call that guy about the car now?” she persisted, unwilling to be diverted from the matter at hand.

An hour later, she was standing at the door of Salvatore’s apartment, ready to leave. She turned to face him, stepped into him, and put her hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks for your help tonight,” she murmured.

He responded firmly, “You are never to act impulsively again. You call me before you do anything radical. Anytime you need me, just call. Understand?” he said.

It was more a statement than a question, she reflected. For the first time since she’d known him, he sounded like a real mobster.

“I promise, I will.” She kissed him on the cheek and headed out.

She arrived for her shift at Doubles twenty minutes early. She was in the dressing room talking to one of the other dancers when Jay came in with two police officers.

“Emma Murphy?” one of the officers inquired.

“Yes,” she said without any change in her demeanor.

“We need to take you in for questioning, Ms. Murphy,” the officer stated.

“Questioning for what?” Emma asked innocently.

“The murder of Peter Somers,” he replied coolly.

“Who?” she asked, feigning incomprehension.

“Peter Somers,” the officer repeated before directing her to put her hands behind her back. Then he began to read her the Miranda rights.

As the cold metal of the handcuffs tightening around her small wrists, Emma took a moment to rejoice secretly. The police officer had confirmed that Pete was dead. On hearing it for the first time, she felt victorious. Sure, she was disappointed with herself for not planning his murder, but she couldn’t deny the wonderful feeling of getting revenge.

As they led her out of the bar and to the police car, Emma noticed some of the girls standing with Jay and watching the scene in fear and confusion. Of all the dancers, it was only Maggie who wanted her friend to be okay again. However, she sensed that things were about to get much worse, and she wondered what would happen to Emma.

Even knowing that Izzy’s future was in question, Emma was completely at peace on the drive to the police station. Like a drug addict injected with their heavenly nectar, she felt whole. She had taken care of all the people who had hurt Gracie.

The next few hours seemed to go by in a blur. The moment she entered the station, Emma was taken into a room behind the front desk. A female officer turned her to face the wall and asked if she had any sharp objects, needles, or knives on her body or in her clothing. After Emma confirmed that she didn’t, the officer frisked her and led her over to a counter. Emma was fingerprinted, and photographs of her were taken from various angles. Finally she was led into a small holding cell, where she sat alone. Later, she was taken to another room where she was interrogated. When the officer questioning her asked for the names of her parents, Emma realized that resorting to a lie in this situation wouldn’t help her case. She gave them her parents’ names and her mother’s address. Then she was led to another small cell, where she was locked in, alone.

Hours later, after she’d relived the moments following the pulling of the trigger and watching, as if on a movie screen of her imagination, the bullet shattering Pete’s face and reducing it to pulp, Emma allowed herself to think about Izzy again. She had not mentioned her to the police. She saw no reason to volunteer information they didn’t ask for. She planned to keep the existence of her niece a secret for as long as possible; forever, if she could. She had seen enough on television to know that if the police found out about Izzy, they would immediately hand her over to Valerie, the child’s grandmother and her only living relative. Emma knew her mother would ruin Isabella’s future. She might even try luring more abusive men into her life by using Izzy’s beauty and charm as bait. No, she thought, she wouldn’t speak of Izzy to the police. Nor would she tell them where she was, even if they did find out about her.

When Emma was finally allowed to make a phone call, she dialed Sydney.

“Syd, it’s Emma. I don’t have a lot of time to talk. I’m in jail and I’ll be here for a while. I need you to take care of Izzy for me, all right?”

“What do you mean, Em?” Sydney shrieked into the phone.

The girl was rattled not only because she was afraid of what lay in store for her friend, but also because Izzy would be her responsibility for an indefinite period of time. The seriousness in Emma’s voice told Syd that something really terrible had happened.

“Calm down, Syd,” Emma told her. “Just do what I say. I’ll be in touch, but for now, just make sure that Isabella is taken care of. Don’t let her out of your sight for even a minute. I swear I’ll call you again as soon as they let me and we can figure things out. Will you do that for me? Please?” she ended on a pleading note.

“Yes, I’ll keep Iz with me,” her friend promised. “But call me as soon as you can.” Then she couldn’t help asking, “What did you do to end up in jail?”

“I didn’t do anything, Syd,” Emma lied. “I’ve been accused of killing Ethan’s friend, Pete. I have to go now. Tell Izzy I love her.”

As the line went dead and Sydney’s gaze traveled around the room, the enormity of what had transpired within those few moments came crashing down on her. She looked over at Isabella who was sleeping soundly in her bed. What the fuck was she going to tell her? She lay down on her own bed, curled into a ball, and cried silent tears of fear and sheer helplessness. She was desperately afraid of what would become of Emma and more so of what would become of Izzy. She loved the child, but at the end of the day, she belonged to Emma. Sydney lay awake all night, terror of the unknown seeping into her body until she felt ill.

At the police station, Emma sat locked in her cell. It was utterly silent but for the distant sound of barred metal doors being occasionally opened and shut. She had no regrets at all for what she had done. She would do it again in a minute if the situation arose. She considered Pete’s death a matter of righting a wrong that had been done to Gracie and her.

The next morning, a woman officer Emma hadn’t seen the night before unlocked her cell door and informed her that she needed to go for her informal arraignment. The proceedings were simple. Emma was informed that she was being charged with murder and apprised of her right to counsel. Since she was being held as a murder suspect, the judge decided to hold her without bail after reviewing the statements given by those present at the bar that night.

Emma asked for a court-appointed attorney and, eight days later, went for her preliminary hearing. Based on Emma’s point-blank answer when questioned—“I didn’t kill anyone”—her attorney, Alexis Fairburn, stated that her client was pleading not guilty to the crime.

The prosecutor, Elliot Lawes, produced a dozen eyewitnesses from the bar who claimed they had seen the accused leaving the bar with the murder victim. From the facts available, it was decided that her case would go to trial. Elliot intended to go for first-degree murder and did his utmost to establish a watertight case against Emma. Once the police had discovered the victim’s connection with Ethan, Emma’s late ex-boyfriend, the motive for the murder was thought to be some kind of psycho-vendetta. Alexis, a young female lawyer only two years out of law school, approached the trial with caution. She knew she would have to proceed carefully if she intended to gain the respect of her more senior colleagues and be taken seriously.

Emma called Sydney to check on Isabella and inform her friend about the latest developments.

“How is Iz? Everything okay?” she gushed, desperately wanting to hold Isabella in her arms.

“She’s fine, Em,” Sydney assured her. “We’re both fine. But Izzy’s been crying a lot. Keeps asking me when you’re coming home.

Emma sighed, knowing she was about to drop a bomb on her young friend. “They’ve set my pre-trial conference thirty days from now, Syd. They’re going to take the case to trial. This could take a really long time.”

“Fuck, Emma! Izzy’s lost and confused and I need to tell her something. Another thirty days is like a fucking eternity!”

Emma recognized Sydney’s familiar whine. “Okay, Syd,” she said briskly. “Just put Iz on the phone.”

A moment later, the small voice penetrated the silence. “Aunt Em?”

“Yes, sweetie, it’s me. How are you?”

“I miss you!” Isabella sniffled. “When are you coming home?”

“I don’t know, Isabella,” Emma told her honestly. “I need to stay where I am for a little bit. But while I’m gone, Sydney is going to take care of you and make sure you have everything you need. What have you two been doing?”

“Begging during the day and reading or playing games at night,” Izzy told her aunt sadly.

Emma felt as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. It hadn’t occurred to her how Sydney would earn money to take care of Isabella while she was locked away behind bars. To hear that they were begging on the streets of Kensington again gave her pause.

“Okay, Iz,” she sighed. “Put Syd back on the phone, will you? I’ll call you again soon. I love you, baby.”

“I love you too, Aunt Em,” the child said yearningly. “Please come back soon.”

The moment her friend came back on the line, Emma told her, “Syd, you need to be careful. I’m truly sorry I didn’t think about the money you might need. You can sell my stuff, okay? I don’t want you guys out there on Kensington Avenue, begging for money. Maybe you can get a job until I know what’s going to happen. You know, at a local restaurant or something? Or how about a job at a daycare? You love kids.”

Sydney’s irritation flared and she made no attempt to hide it as she snapped, “What the
fuck
do you want me to do?
I
didn’t ask for this. I’ve begged for money all my life and now you want me to go out and get a job. You know what? How about trusting someone else with taking care of Izzy? I love her and all, Em, but I never signed up to be mother of the fucking year! I’ve been totally stressed out trying to keep her belly full for the last eight days. Now you’re asking me to figure out how to take care of her for thirty more days!”

There was a moment of strained silence between them.

Then Emma said quietly, “You’re right, Syd. I just want you to be careful. In the meantime, I’ll try and think of some way to get you some money.”

By the time Emma hung up the phone, she knew that Salvatore was the only person who could help them. She hoped that if asked, he would give Syd the money she needed to take care of Izzy. After several hours, she asked the guard if she could make another phone call.

“Not tonight, hon,” she told her. “We’ll see if you can make a call tomorrow, though. Now settle down and try to sleep.”

But Emma had a difficult time quieting the thoughts that cluttered her brain. The prosecutor was determined to bring her down. He had already established her former relationship with Ethan. What if someone had seen her getting out of Pete’s car after she had killed him? She had thrown caution to the wind and was annoyed with herself for being so reckless. She lay sleepless now, tossing and turning, obsessing over what more the prosecution could unearth that might incriminate her. There had been so many people at the bar when she’d left it with Pete that night. Acknowledging the possibility of a long prison sentence ahead of her, she knew her first priority would be to ensure that one of the people in her life would take care of Izzy.