Killer Smile

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“Rosato amp; Associates,” Mary DiNunzio said into the receiver, then kicked herself for answering the phone. The caller was Premenstrual Tom, a man who wanted to sue the Philadelphia Police Department, the United States Congress, and a local cantaloupe. He’d been calling the office at all hours, and Mary felt sorry for him. He was obviously off his meds and had reached one of the few lawyers in the city who wouldn’t sue fruit.

“This is Mr. Thomas Cott!” he shouted. “Who’s this?”

“I’m Mary DiNunzio. We spoke yesterday -”

“Get me Ms. Benedetta Rosato!”

“Ms. Rosato is gone for the day, sir.” Mary checked her watch. 10:16 P.M. Everyone had gone home hours ago, and until now, the offices had been blessedly quiet. “The office is closed.”

“Then what are you doing there, Ms. Mary DiNunzio?”

Good question, Mr. Thomas Cott. Mary was working late again, reading until her brown eyes turned red and her contacts dried to the crispness of breakfast cereal. Documents blanketed the conference table like a legal snowstorm, and her compact figure had been curled into the swivel chair for so long she felt like a meatball. “Mr. Cott, I’ll take a message and tell Bennie -”

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