. Setting: Monday morning, after Bobby returns to Boston from New York.
Authors' Note: This story is a product of the tag-team collaboration between Lysa and Deb. The title of this story is borrowed from the film of the same title, directed by Stanley Kramer. Thank you, thank you to everyone who sent such nice feedback. You guys are the best.
Jimmy announced his departure at Monday morning's staff meeting. "I'll be leavin' in three weeks."
Silence as his stunned colleagues just looked at him. His leaving was the last thing they thought they'd ever hear, not to mention going to live with a woman.
Jimmy smiled. "Does this silence mean you're happy for me or glad to see me go?" Cries of No! Of course not! We'll miss you! All rang out. "You just caught us totally by surprise, that's all." Rebecca said, still recovering from the shock of his announcement. "Frankly, leavin' the firm ain't really somethin' I'd ever thought about before Marina moved. I'll be practicin' a different kind of law. It'll be a nice change of pace, I think. Somethin' different." "There will always be a place for you here, Jimmy," Bobby said. "No matter how things work out." "Thanks, Bobby. I appreciate that." "You're welcome." Bobby put down his Celtics coffee mug. "Then I guess the next thing to decide is where you want your going-away party," "That's easy. Cantina Italiana. I love their food." "Lucy," Bobby said, "Would you make reservations?" "Sure." "This is an awfully big step you're taking," Ellenor said. "I hope you know what you're doing. I for one wouldn't build my future on Marina, no offense." Jimmy did take offense. "I'm not you, Ellenor, so that works out good." Jimmy was anxious to leave and be with Marina. She was right; they didn't appreciate him. He hoped the time passed quickly until his move to New York. Meanwhile, Marina was busy getting her apartment ready for Jimmy. She had cleaned closets and stocked the refrigerator with all his favorites. She was in the middle of going through dresser drawers when she heard the buzzer. "Yes?" she said into the intercom. "It's Vince, babe. I need to see you." "Come on up." She pressed the button that would unlock the door and opened the front door. She briefly stopped in front of the mirror to make sure she was presentable. Her dark hair fell neatly over her pink turtleneck sweater. "What does Vincent want?' she wondered. He never came to see her. Vincent Scaponi walked through the front door a few seconds later, followed by two of his "boys". He seemed more formal and business like than usual. 'Something's going on behind those black eyes,' Marina thought worriedly. 'And whatever it is, it isn't good.' Vince embraced her. "Marina, you look beautiful, as ever!" "Thank you," she said warily. "Coffee?" "No, thank you. I just need to talk to you about your lover boy." "Jimmy? What about him?" "Can we sit down?" Vince asked. She had a horrible sense of foreboding. "Of course." She motioned him into her living room and he sat on a beautiful Ethan Allen overstuffed chair. She sat across from him on the matching couch. "Now may I ask what brings you here?" she asked. He sighed and removed his glasses, rubbing his temples. "How much do you like this guy?" "I like him a lot, Vince. To be honest, I love him. I am going to marry him," she answered, with panic rising in her chest. He sighed again. "I should have told you this sooner. When you become a judge, it's just the beginning. You need to become part of the family 'officially'." "What are you talking about?" "Sweetie, you can't marry this man. You have to marry into the family. Both Tony and Michael" He motioned at the men who were standing behind her, "are interested in you." He cleared his throat and replaced his glasses. "Now, the matter of this man's gambling debts makes it very easy for me to dispose of him." "Why did you offer him a job then?" she asked, getting both frightened and angry. "Well, for two reasons. First, for you. I thought if he was close to you, you would get him out of your system faster, but I see now that you are more serious about him than I had known. Second, I want to keep an eye on him." Marina knew exactly what that meant. Jimmy was on the way out. She couldn't stand it. She never begged anyone for anything in her life, but she was prepared to beg for Jimmy's life. She went to Vince and knelt to look up at him. "Vince, please! I'll do anything! I take full responsibility for all his debts. I will pay them! Anything you want! He'll be loyal to the family, Please give him a chance." She hated the way she sounded, but groveling was the only way. There was no longer room for pride. Vincent was moved slightly. "I will spare him," he said slowly. "But the money must be paid in full. With interest. Then you will tell this man goodbye and marry a man more fitting to your position." She hung her head and said slowly. "I can't leave him, Vince. I'm pregnant." She had wanted to surprise Jimmy with this news when he arrived. Disgusted, VIncent coldly pushed her away. "You will not have this baby. You were to have babies for the family. You will get rid of it." "I can't do that! Vince, please! This is all I've ever wanted: a husband and a baby. I've been loyal to you! Please don't do this!" "Yes, you have been loyal. But who do you think is paying for this apartment? Who is giving you the lavish lifestyle you enjoy so much? You will do as you are told, Marina, or I wash my hands of you." "If I promise to pay you in full, will you give me your word that Jimmy will not be harmed?" she asked. "The money is only part of it, Marina. You know too much now to leave. You know that. But I will promise you this: you pay what he owes, and from then on, it will be between you and me. I will leave this Jimmy out of it." She nodded in relief as he got up as swept past her, taking the two men with him. He turned as he reached the door. "Marina?" She looked up. "Yes, Vince?" "From now on, it's 'Sir'. And you have one week to get this amount, until next Tuesday midnight. I'll see you then." He laid a slip of paper on the coffee table before the door shut behind him. Marina jumped up and looked at the paper. She couldn't believe what she saw. Vincent was charging her for Jimmy's debts, plus interest - that Marina had expected -- but Vincent had also included all her law school tuition and other debts, such as her apartment and furnishings. The total was almost 15 million dollars! She knew she would never be able to liquidate all her assets to come up with that kind of money in a week. She had some phone calls to make. The first call was to her financial advisor. She made an appointment to meet him early that afternoon. Marina then gathered her savings, IRAs, and checking account books and threw on her black leather jacket. "Rodney," she said to the doorman. "Get me a cab, would you?" "Right away, Ms. Donnell." Rodney hailed a cab and opened the door for Marina to get in. "Chase Manhattan Bank, please." After liquidating her accounts there, Marina taxied to The State Back of New York to perform the same transaction. Her total assets for the day: $6.5 million. She sighed. 'Not quite half my tab,' she thought. How in hell do I raise the rest? Marina's eyes were drawn to the painting over her fireplace. The abstract painting had been created by Claire Hedley, a once unknown New York painter who's popularity had recently skyrocketed in the U.S. Marina had bought the painting 10 years ago at Hedley's first exhibition in Greenwich Village. Fortunately for Marina, the painting had appreciated in value nearly 100 times due to Hedley's untimely death the previous month. She phoned a client whom she'd successfully defended on assault charges. He worked at Sotheby's and agreed to show her Hedley painting at the next evening's auction. "I'll send a messenger over at once to collect it," he promised. "Conservatively speaking, I think you should realize anywhere between $1.2 and $1.8 million. That painting proved to be a good investment." Her investments were her next priority. She arrived at Merrill Lynch's 5th Avenue office ten minutes ahead of her appointment with Ted Epstein, her financial advisor. "My previous appointment cancelled at the last minute, so come in, Marina." "Thanks for seeing me on short notice, Ted." "Certainly." Ted closed his office door as Marina sat in a gray leather chair opposite his desk. Ted sat at his desk and folded his hands on the desktop. "How can I help?" he asked. "Let me get right to the point. For reasons I prefer not to disclose, I need to sell my all investments at once and also withdraw everything from my money markets and mutual funds. Getting the cash quickly is more important to me than the profit margin." Ted Epstein raised his eyebrows at his client's difficult and unusual request. "It could take up to 4 business days to accomplish that." Four days were within Vincent's imposed deadline. "That's fine, although the faster the better." "Are you in some kind of trouble, Marina?" She stood. In a business-like voice, she replied, "Thank you for everything, Ted. Please call me as soon as you have some idea as to how much I can expect to receive." "I will." Marina forced a smile. "I'll talk to you soon then." Outside the tall office building, she hailed a cab to return to her Park Avenue apartment. In her bedroom closet she dialed the combination to her safe. From the safe, Marina pulled black velvet boxes. "I never thought I'd have to sell my babies," she said quietly to herself. "My diamonds. My passion." One of Marina's non-criminal clients was a wholesale jeweler. Consequently, she had amassed an impressive collection of diamond jewelry at a fraction of what they would cost from Tiffany's or Harry Winston. She opened all the boxes and set them facing her on her four-poster bed. "Sorry, my babies. Either I find you new homes or I lose everything. And I mean everything. Fortunately, I just had all of you evaluated. You'll go far in helping me raise the capital I need. Maybe Mrs. Van Der Clarke would be interested. She's always admired you." After putting her diamond jewelry back in the safe, with a heavy heart, Marina telephoned Mrs. Van Der Clarke, the greedy and flamboyant wife of a client. Immediately the Mrs. Van Der Clarke agreed to Marina's asking price of $500,000. Marina promised to deliver "her babies" to Mrs. Van Der Clarke's East Hampton home the next day. Marina similarly disposed of other high-ticket possessions: an 18th Century Philadelphia high boy and Chippendale dining table, chairs, and china cabinet; a Paul Revere made sterling silver tea and coffee set; dozens of first edition 19th Century novels bound in leather and gilt; a small Degas mobile; her 36-foot cabin cruiser that she loved to pilot on the Atlantic. Slowly, she was garnering enough cash to meet Vincent Scarponi's demand, although every sale broke her heart a little more. Financial advisor Ted Epstein called Marina at home late Thursday afternoon. "I've zeroed out everything," he said then gave her the total. Marina added that total to her running list of cash attained. She was now $100,000 short of the required amount. 'Time for yet another phone call,' she thought bitterly. 'And one I do not want to make.' As Marina re-added her calculations, Bobby put three potatoes in the oven to bake. He began preparing a salad when the telephone rang. "Hello," he said, expecting it to be Lindsay. "Hey, Robert," Marina said, forcing a cheerful tone. "What are you up to?" "Getting dinner started so I can throw on the salmon steaks when Lindsay gets home from court. How about you?" They chatted for a few minutes then Bobby suddenly asked, "OK, so what's wrong, Marina?" "What makes you think anything is wrong?" "Because I know you. I grew up with you, remember? Spill your guts." A slight pause while Marina gathered her courage. "Well, believe it or not, I need to borrow some money." That was the last thing that Bobby expected to hear. "I see." "It's a significant amount." "How much?" he asked. "One hundred thousand dollars." "What? Why do you need that much?" Marina tried to be truthful without revealing too much. "I need to pay off a debt. If I don't have the money by Tuesay evening, I'll be fitted for wings and a halo." Her attempt at humor failed miserably, as evidenced by the silence on the other end of the phone. "Have you tried getting a bank loan?" Bobby asked. "You need collateral for a loan that size, Bobby. You know that. I have nothing." "You have an apartment loaded with antiques and art." "Not any longer. Please don't ask me to explain, Bobby." "Marina, you're asking me to loan you a huge amount of money. I think I have the right to ask a few questions." Marina knew that Bobby was right. She poured herself a Smirnoff's Ice, her second in the last hour. She then began the long and convoluted tale of why she was in financial debt to her former mentor. "I know I shouldn't have hooked up with Vincent and worse yet, assumed responsibility for Jimmy's gambling debts. But I did, and if I don't have the money by Monday evening, I'm dead. Literally. Period, full stop." Bobby sighed and shook his head. "I understand your predicament, I do, but I have to discuss this with Lindsay. The money in our savings is hers too. I can't in good conscience withdraw it without talking to her." "Sure. I assumed that. Could you call me after you two decide? Time is of the essence here. If I'm late with the money, I'll be hanging out with Roma Downey and Della Reese for all of eternity." Bobby didn't laugh. He was too disappointed in and concerned about his sister to find any humor in the situation. "Thank you for not lecturing or preaching to me, Bobby. I really appreciate that." "As Shakespeare said, 'What's done is done; what's done cannot be undone.' That certainly applies here. But, yes, I'll call you." "I'll talk to you later then. Thanks for listening, Bobby." "Sure. Take care, honey." Bobby hung up. He finished making the salad then put the glass bowl in the fridge. He went to the living room. "Hey, BJ!" he said enthusiastically to shake off his negative feelings. "Wanna play basketball?" "Yes!" the boy responded, dropping his plastic submarine and standing in his playpen. "OK then." He pulled his son from the playpen and set him on the floor. "Go get the ball." Half an hour later, BJ made yet another basket. "That a boy, BJ!" Bobby said. "You'll play basketball for Notre Dame someday." BJ just giggled. The door opened and Lindsay entered. BJ turned to look. He smiled when he saw his mother. "Hi, Mommy!" he said as he ran to her for a hug. "There's my sweet boy," Lindsay set down her briefcase and picked up her son. "Were you and Daddy playing basketball?" "Yes." Lindsay gave him a hug and a kiss. "Good boy." She put him on the floor. "How was your day?" she asked Bobby. "Pretty good. A client I got acquitted last month stopped by the office. He gave me a man's and a woman's red, white and navy sweat suits, like the U.S. Olympians are wearing. The Canadian supplier is one of his customers. Anyway, you and I each have one." Lindsay was impressed. "Cool. Show me later." "I will. Want a drink before dinner?" "Definitely. May I have some white wine?" "Sure. I bought a couple bottles of white cabernet sauvignon and chilled them." Bobby started toward the kitchen. "I'll open one. How was court?" Lindsay followed him. "I think I'm winning. Alan Lowe isn't as sharp as he usually is so that helps. It should go to the jury tomorrow." "Good." He opened the wine and poured each of them a glass. He handed Lindsay hers. "Lindsay, I have something to discuss with you. It's a sensitive topic." "Can we wait till after dinner and I've had a chance to unwind?" "Sure we can." Thick salmon steaks in a butter and dill sauce, baked potatoes, salad, and peas and carrots later, Lindsay cleaned the kitchen while Bobby bathed BJ and put him to bed with a long reading of Mother Goose rhymes and a kiss and hug. "Nite, sport. I love you." "Love you," BJ parroted. Bobby went to living room, only to be greeted with more white wine. "OK," Lindsay said with a slight smile. "Before 'ER' comes on, what did you want to talk about?" Bobby sat beside her on the sofa. "Marina called me." He relayed the conversation. "A hundred thousand dollars?" Lindsay repeated. "That's almost our total buy a house fund." "I realize that, but the stakes are very high here. I can't let my sister be murdered because I wouldn't loan her the money she needs." "Bobby, she made her bed! Let her lie in it! She needs to take some responsibility some time!" "Lindsay! She will be killed!" "She should have thought of that before." Lindsay knew she was being unreasonable, but she did not want to give up all the savings they had worked so hard for. More importantly, she did not want to let go of her dream of a house. Bobby's voice got chillingly quiet. He looked Lindsay firmly in the eye. "This is my sister. If I have it in my means to save her life, I am going to do it. I won't let you or anyone else stand in the way of that. She's my sister, and I will help her," he repeated before getting up and striding out of the room. Lindsey sighed, her heart heavy. She knew he was serious, but she didn't like it. It was her money, too, and she felt she had a right to say how it would be spent. She followed him into the bedroom and opened the door. "Look, I know Marina's your sister, but she seems to have a way of finding trouble. I really doubt that her life is really in danger. This is just another sick attempt to control you, and this time I won't have it! It's my money too, and I say NO! Bobby had just taken his shirt off. He turned and faced his angry wife. "Lindsay, I AM loaning this money to Marina. If I don't, and she is killed....I can't even think about that. She and I were once very close. She's still my kid sister. I have to protect her. Marina could lose her life and I won't let that happen. Why can't you understand that? I am doing this, so you need to get used to the idea." "So, basically, I am supposed to just deal with it?'" "I guess so, yes." He turned back around. She left, slamming the bedroom door behind and went to sleep on the couch. Bobby sighed and sat down on the bed before he picked up the phone. He dialed Marina's number. "Hello?" she answered in a quiet voice. "Hey, troll," he said, using the childhood nickname she so hated. "Bobby," she sniffled. He could tell Marina was crying. "What's wrong?" he asked with concern. She began to weep in earnest. "Bobby, everything I do turns into such a mess! How did I get here? All I ever wanted was to be the wife of a good man and have babies, and now...I doubt I'll ever get the chance." "Hey, honey, calm down," he said soothingly. I'm going to get you out of this mess. I'll have the money to you tomorrow, and we'll put it behind us." "Oh, Bobby, I wish it was just the money, but there's more and it's worse. No matter what, I'll either be a killer or be killed, and I don't know if I can live with the guilt of being a killer." He was lost. "What are you talking about now?" "You have to swear to me that this stays between the two of us," she said. "Swear to me, Bobby." "You know you can trust me." Marina paused in reluctance. "I'm pregnant, Bobby. With Jimmy's baby. And they'll kill me if I don't abort." Calmly, he said, "Look, Marina, I think I know how to solve both problems. You probably won't like it, but hear me out. Will you listen?" "Yes, Bobby," Marina replied with unusual meekness. She wiped her eyes with a tissue. "Help me, Bobby." She hated being so overwrought, but she trusted her big brother to help her. "I will help you, honey. I have a good friend in the Boston bureau of the FBI. He and I went to law school together. We can talk to him. He can get everything in motion. We can trust him." "Trust him to do what?" "For now, Marina, trust me. I think we can beat Vincent Scarponi at his own game."
Authors' Note: This story is a product of the tag-team collaboration between Lysa and Deb. The title of this story is borrowed from the film of the same title, directed by Stanley Kramer. Thank you, thank you to everyone who sent such nice feedback. You guys are the best.
Jimmy announced his departure at Monday morning's staff meeting. "I'll be leavin' in three weeks."
Silence as his stunned colleagues just looked at him. His leaving was the last thing they thought they'd ever hear, not to mention going to live with a woman.
Jimmy smiled. "Does this silence mean you're happy for me or glad to see me go?" Cries of No! Of course not! We'll miss you! All rang out. "You just caught us totally by surprise, that's all." Rebecca said, still recovering from the shock of his announcement. "Frankly, leavin' the firm ain't really somethin' I'd ever thought about before Marina moved. I'll be practicin' a different kind of law. It'll be a nice change of pace, I think. Somethin' different." "There will always be a place for you here, Jimmy," Bobby said. "No matter how things work out." "Thanks, Bobby. I appreciate that." "You're welcome." Bobby put down his Celtics coffee mug. "Then I guess the next thing to decide is where you want your going-away party," "That's easy. Cantina Italiana. I love their food." "Lucy," Bobby said, "Would you make reservations?" "Sure." "This is an awfully big step you're taking," Ellenor said. "I hope you know what you're doing. I for one wouldn't build my future on Marina, no offense." Jimmy did take offense. "I'm not you, Ellenor, so that works out good." Jimmy was anxious to leave and be with Marina. She was right; they didn't appreciate him. He hoped the time passed quickly until his move to New York. Meanwhile, Marina was busy getting her apartment ready for Jimmy. She had cleaned closets and stocked the refrigerator with all his favorites. She was in the middle of going through dresser drawers when she heard the buzzer. "Yes?" she said into the intercom. "It's Vince, babe. I need to see you." "Come on up." She pressed the button that would unlock the door and opened the front door. She briefly stopped in front of the mirror to make sure she was presentable. Her dark hair fell neatly over her pink turtleneck sweater. "What does Vincent want?' she wondered. He never came to see her. Vincent Scaponi walked through the front door a few seconds later, followed by two of his "boys". He seemed more formal and business like than usual. 'Something's going on behind those black eyes,' Marina thought worriedly. 'And whatever it is, it isn't good.' Vince embraced her. "Marina, you look beautiful, as ever!" "Thank you," she said warily. "Coffee?" "No, thank you. I just need to talk to you about your lover boy." "Jimmy? What about him?" "Can we sit down?" Vince asked. She had a horrible sense of foreboding. "Of course." She motioned him into her living room and he sat on a beautiful Ethan Allen overstuffed chair. She sat across from him on the matching couch. "Now may I ask what brings you here?" she asked. He sighed and removed his glasses, rubbing his temples. "How much do you like this guy?" "I like him a lot, Vince. To be honest, I love him. I am going to marry him," she answered, with panic rising in her chest. He sighed again. "I should have told you this sooner. When you become a judge, it's just the beginning. You need to become part of the family 'officially'." "What are you talking about?" "Sweetie, you can't marry this man. You have to marry into the family. Both Tony and Michael" He motioned at the men who were standing behind her, "are interested in you." He cleared his throat and replaced his glasses. "Now, the matter of this man's gambling debts makes it very easy for me to dispose of him." "Why did you offer him a job then?" she asked, getting both frightened and angry. "Well, for two reasons. First, for you. I thought if he was close to you, you would get him out of your system faster, but I see now that you are more serious about him than I had known. Second, I want to keep an eye on him." Marina knew exactly what that meant. Jimmy was on the way out. She couldn't stand it. She never begged anyone for anything in her life, but she was prepared to beg for Jimmy's life. She went to Vince and knelt to look up at him. "Vince, please! I'll do anything! I take full responsibility for all his debts. I will pay them! Anything you want! He'll be loyal to the family, Please give him a chance." She hated the way she sounded, but groveling was the only way. There was no longer room for pride. Vincent was moved slightly. "I will spare him," he said slowly. "But the money must be paid in full. With interest. Then you will tell this man goodbye and marry a man more fitting to your position." She hung her head and said slowly. "I can't leave him, Vince. I'm pregnant." She had wanted to surprise Jimmy with this news when he arrived. Disgusted, VIncent coldly pushed her away. "You will not have this baby. You were to have babies for the family. You will get rid of it." "I can't do that! Vince, please! This is all I've ever wanted: a husband and a baby. I've been loyal to you! Please don't do this!" "Yes, you have been loyal. But who do you think is paying for this apartment? Who is giving you the lavish lifestyle you enjoy so much? You will do as you are told, Marina, or I wash my hands of you." "If I promise to pay you in full, will you give me your word that Jimmy will not be harmed?" she asked. "The money is only part of it, Marina. You know too much now to leave. You know that. But I will promise you this: you pay what he owes, and from then on, it will be between you and me. I will leave this Jimmy out of it." She nodded in relief as he got up as swept past her, taking the two men with him. He turned as he reached the door. "Marina?" She looked up. "Yes, Vince?" "From now on, it's 'Sir'. And you have one week to get this amount, until next Tuesday midnight. I'll see you then." He laid a slip of paper on the coffee table before the door shut behind him. Marina jumped up and looked at the paper. She couldn't believe what she saw. Vincent was charging her for Jimmy's debts, plus interest - that Marina had expected -- but Vincent had also included all her law school tuition and other debts, such as her apartment and furnishings. The total was almost 15 million dollars! She knew she would never be able to liquidate all her assets to come up with that kind of money in a week. She had some phone calls to make. The first call was to her financial advisor. She made an appointment to meet him early that afternoon. Marina then gathered her savings, IRAs, and checking account books and threw on her black leather jacket. "Rodney," she said to the doorman. "Get me a cab, would you?" "Right away, Ms. Donnell." Rodney hailed a cab and opened the door for Marina to get in. "Chase Manhattan Bank, please." After liquidating her accounts there, Marina taxied to The State Back of New York to perform the same transaction. Her total assets for the day: $6.5 million. She sighed. 'Not quite half my tab,' she thought. How in hell do I raise the rest? Marina's eyes were drawn to the painting over her fireplace. The abstract painting had been created by Claire Hedley, a once unknown New York painter who's popularity had recently skyrocketed in the U.S. Marina had bought the painting 10 years ago at Hedley's first exhibition in Greenwich Village. Fortunately for Marina, the painting had appreciated in value nearly 100 times due to Hedley's untimely death the previous month. She phoned a client whom she'd successfully defended on assault charges. He worked at Sotheby's and agreed to show her Hedley painting at the next evening's auction. "I'll send a messenger over at once to collect it," he promised. "Conservatively speaking, I think you should realize anywhere between $1.2 and $1.8 million. That painting proved to be a good investment." Her investments were her next priority. She arrived at Merrill Lynch's 5th Avenue office ten minutes ahead of her appointment with Ted Epstein, her financial advisor. "My previous appointment cancelled at the last minute, so come in, Marina." "Thanks for seeing me on short notice, Ted." "Certainly." Ted closed his office door as Marina sat in a gray leather chair opposite his desk. Ted sat at his desk and folded his hands on the desktop. "How can I help?" he asked. "Let me get right to the point. For reasons I prefer not to disclose, I need to sell my all investments at once and also withdraw everything from my money markets and mutual funds. Getting the cash quickly is more important to me than the profit margin." Ted Epstein raised his eyebrows at his client's difficult and unusual request. "It could take up to 4 business days to accomplish that." Four days were within Vincent's imposed deadline. "That's fine, although the faster the better." "Are you in some kind of trouble, Marina?" She stood. In a business-like voice, she replied, "Thank you for everything, Ted. Please call me as soon as you have some idea as to how much I can expect to receive." "I will." Marina forced a smile. "I'll talk to you soon then." Outside the tall office building, she hailed a cab to return to her Park Avenue apartment. In her bedroom closet she dialed the combination to her safe. From the safe, Marina pulled black velvet boxes. "I never thought I'd have to sell my babies," she said quietly to herself. "My diamonds. My passion." One of Marina's non-criminal clients was a wholesale jeweler. Consequently, she had amassed an impressive collection of diamond jewelry at a fraction of what they would cost from Tiffany's or Harry Winston. She opened all the boxes and set them facing her on her four-poster bed. "Sorry, my babies. Either I find you new homes or I lose everything. And I mean everything. Fortunately, I just had all of you evaluated. You'll go far in helping me raise the capital I need. Maybe Mrs. Van Der Clarke would be interested. She's always admired you." After putting her diamond jewelry back in the safe, with a heavy heart, Marina telephoned Mrs. Van Der Clarke, the greedy and flamboyant wife of a client. Immediately the Mrs. Van Der Clarke agreed to Marina's asking price of $500,000. Marina promised to deliver "her babies" to Mrs. Van Der Clarke's East Hampton home the next day. Marina similarly disposed of other high-ticket possessions: an 18th Century Philadelphia high boy and Chippendale dining table, chairs, and china cabinet; a Paul Revere made sterling silver tea and coffee set; dozens of first edition 19th Century novels bound in leather and gilt; a small Degas mobile; her 36-foot cabin cruiser that she loved to pilot on the Atlantic. Slowly, she was garnering enough cash to meet Vincent Scarponi's demand, although every sale broke her heart a little more. Financial advisor Ted Epstein called Marina at home late Thursday afternoon. "I've zeroed out everything," he said then gave her the total. Marina added that total to her running list of cash attained. She was now $100,000 short of the required amount. 'Time for yet another phone call,' she thought bitterly. 'And one I do not want to make.' As Marina re-added her calculations, Bobby put three potatoes in the oven to bake. He began preparing a salad when the telephone rang. "Hello," he said, expecting it to be Lindsay. "Hey, Robert," Marina said, forcing a cheerful tone. "What are you up to?" "Getting dinner started so I can throw on the salmon steaks when Lindsay gets home from court. How about you?" They chatted for a few minutes then Bobby suddenly asked, "OK, so what's wrong, Marina?" "What makes you think anything is wrong?" "Because I know you. I grew up with you, remember? Spill your guts." A slight pause while Marina gathered her courage. "Well, believe it or not, I need to borrow some money." That was the last thing that Bobby expected to hear. "I see." "It's a significant amount." "How much?" he asked. "One hundred thousand dollars." "What? Why do you need that much?" Marina tried to be truthful without revealing too much. "I need to pay off a debt. If I don't have the money by Tuesay evening, I'll be fitted for wings and a halo." Her attempt at humor failed miserably, as evidenced by the silence on the other end of the phone. "Have you tried getting a bank loan?" Bobby asked. "You need collateral for a loan that size, Bobby. You know that. I have nothing." "You have an apartment loaded with antiques and art." "Not any longer. Please don't ask me to explain, Bobby." "Marina, you're asking me to loan you a huge amount of money. I think I have the right to ask a few questions." Marina knew that Bobby was right. She poured herself a Smirnoff's Ice, her second in the last hour. She then began the long and convoluted tale of why she was in financial debt to her former mentor. "I know I shouldn't have hooked up with Vincent and worse yet, assumed responsibility for Jimmy's gambling debts. But I did, and if I don't have the money by Monday evening, I'm dead. Literally. Period, full stop." Bobby sighed and shook his head. "I understand your predicament, I do, but I have to discuss this with Lindsay. The money in our savings is hers too. I can't in good conscience withdraw it without talking to her." "Sure. I assumed that. Could you call me after you two decide? Time is of the essence here. If I'm late with the money, I'll be hanging out with Roma Downey and Della Reese for all of eternity." Bobby didn't laugh. He was too disappointed in and concerned about his sister to find any humor in the situation. "Thank you for not lecturing or preaching to me, Bobby. I really appreciate that." "As Shakespeare said, 'What's done is done; what's done cannot be undone.' That certainly applies here. But, yes, I'll call you." "I'll talk to you later then. Thanks for listening, Bobby." "Sure. Take care, honey." Bobby hung up. He finished making the salad then put the glass bowl in the fridge. He went to the living room. "Hey, BJ!" he said enthusiastically to shake off his negative feelings. "Wanna play basketball?" "Yes!" the boy responded, dropping his plastic submarine and standing in his playpen. "OK then." He pulled his son from the playpen and set him on the floor. "Go get the ball." Half an hour later, BJ made yet another basket. "That a boy, BJ!" Bobby said. "You'll play basketball for Notre Dame someday." BJ just giggled. The door opened and Lindsay entered. BJ turned to look. He smiled when he saw his mother. "Hi, Mommy!" he said as he ran to her for a hug. "There's my sweet boy," Lindsay set down her briefcase and picked up her son. "Were you and Daddy playing basketball?" "Yes." Lindsay gave him a hug and a kiss. "Good boy." She put him on the floor. "How was your day?" she asked Bobby. "Pretty good. A client I got acquitted last month stopped by the office. He gave me a man's and a woman's red, white and navy sweat suits, like the U.S. Olympians are wearing. The Canadian supplier is one of his customers. Anyway, you and I each have one." Lindsay was impressed. "Cool. Show me later." "I will. Want a drink before dinner?" "Definitely. May I have some white wine?" "Sure. I bought a couple bottles of white cabernet sauvignon and chilled them." Bobby started toward the kitchen. "I'll open one. How was court?" Lindsay followed him. "I think I'm winning. Alan Lowe isn't as sharp as he usually is so that helps. It should go to the jury tomorrow." "Good." He opened the wine and poured each of them a glass. He handed Lindsay hers. "Lindsay, I have something to discuss with you. It's a sensitive topic." "Can we wait till after dinner and I've had a chance to unwind?" "Sure we can." Thick salmon steaks in a butter and dill sauce, baked potatoes, salad, and peas and carrots later, Lindsay cleaned the kitchen while Bobby bathed BJ and put him to bed with a long reading of Mother Goose rhymes and a kiss and hug. "Nite, sport. I love you." "Love you," BJ parroted. Bobby went to living room, only to be greeted with more white wine. "OK," Lindsay said with a slight smile. "Before 'ER' comes on, what did you want to talk about?" Bobby sat beside her on the sofa. "Marina called me." He relayed the conversation. "A hundred thousand dollars?" Lindsay repeated. "That's almost our total buy a house fund." "I realize that, but the stakes are very high here. I can't let my sister be murdered because I wouldn't loan her the money she needs." "Bobby, she made her bed! Let her lie in it! She needs to take some responsibility some time!" "Lindsay! She will be killed!" "She should have thought of that before." Lindsay knew she was being unreasonable, but she did not want to give up all the savings they had worked so hard for. More importantly, she did not want to let go of her dream of a house. Bobby's voice got chillingly quiet. He looked Lindsay firmly in the eye. "This is my sister. If I have it in my means to save her life, I am going to do it. I won't let you or anyone else stand in the way of that. She's my sister, and I will help her," he repeated before getting up and striding out of the room. Lindsey sighed, her heart heavy. She knew he was serious, but she didn't like it. It was her money, too, and she felt she had a right to say how it would be spent. She followed him into the bedroom and opened the door. "Look, I know Marina's your sister, but she seems to have a way of finding trouble. I really doubt that her life is really in danger. This is just another sick attempt to control you, and this time I won't have it! It's my money too, and I say NO! Bobby had just taken his shirt off. He turned and faced his angry wife. "Lindsay, I AM loaning this money to Marina. If I don't, and she is killed....I can't even think about that. She and I were once very close. She's still my kid sister. I have to protect her. Marina could lose her life and I won't let that happen. Why can't you understand that? I am doing this, so you need to get used to the idea." "So, basically, I am supposed to just deal with it?'" "I guess so, yes." He turned back around. She left, slamming the bedroom door behind and went to sleep on the couch. Bobby sighed and sat down on the bed before he picked up the phone. He dialed Marina's number. "Hello?" she answered in a quiet voice. "Hey, troll," he said, using the childhood nickname she so hated. "Bobby," she sniffled. He could tell Marina was crying. "What's wrong?" he asked with concern. She began to weep in earnest. "Bobby, everything I do turns into such a mess! How did I get here? All I ever wanted was to be the wife of a good man and have babies, and now...I doubt I'll ever get the chance." "Hey, honey, calm down," he said soothingly. I'm going to get you out of this mess. I'll have the money to you tomorrow, and we'll put it behind us." "Oh, Bobby, I wish it was just the money, but there's more and it's worse. No matter what, I'll either be a killer or be killed, and I don't know if I can live with the guilt of being a killer." He was lost. "What are you talking about now?" "You have to swear to me that this stays between the two of us," she said. "Swear to me, Bobby." "You know you can trust me." Marina paused in reluctance. "I'm pregnant, Bobby. With Jimmy's baby. And they'll kill me if I don't abort." Calmly, he said, "Look, Marina, I think I know how to solve both problems. You probably won't like it, but hear me out. Will you listen?" "Yes, Bobby," Marina replied with unusual meekness. She wiped her eyes with a tissue. "Help me, Bobby." She hated being so overwrought, but she trusted her big brother to help her. "I will help you, honey. I have a good friend in the Boston bureau of the FBI. He and I went to law school together. We can talk to him. He can get everything in motion. We can trust him." "Trust him to do what?" "For now, Marina, trust me. I think we can beat Vincent Scarponi at his own game."