Lethal Lullaby-Chapter 5

Brahms Lullaby

Perry and Salvatore stood before Judge Andrew Parker with Hamilton Burger glaring at them from the second chair of the prosecutor's table the whole time.

"Your Honor, the medical examiner has placed the time of death at nine this morning," Perry said with implacable calmness. "My client has an airtight alibi, which even the illustrious District Attorney can't dispute."

His eyes strayed to where Burger sat. The man flushed to the roots of his ginger curls. The tips of his ears all but glowed. Judge Parker looked his way and had to smother a chuckle and conceal a smile. He could literally hear Burger grinding his teeth.

Clearing his throat and making his voice even, he clarified, "And that alibi would be?"

Perry ignored the actual growl Hamilton emitted. "My client was in a church full of people, including Mr. Burger, at the baptism of my daughter."

Since Judge Parker had been there also, he had to duck his head to hide his smile. "Mr. Sampson?"

"Your honor, Mr. Pinelli is a man of considerable wealth and means. Just because he did not physically pull the trigger does not preclude him from guilt."

The judge frowned at that. "Mr. Sampson, I will remind you, this man's innocence is presumed by both the court and this bench." He banged his gavel and looked at Perry. "As the state has failed to prove to this court's satisfaction your client could have been in two places at once, your client is free to go." He locked eyes with Salvatore. "But I would advise you, Mr. Pinelli, to stay available."

"Thank you, your Honor," Perry murmured. Salvatore merely bowed.

Burger wanted to protest, but he knew it would do no good. Seething inwardly, he growled as his courtroom nemesis and his client left the courtroom. I will see him behind bars if it's the last thing I do.

Tony had indeed been admitted to the hospital. Dr. Baxter confirmed that along with his facial cuts and bruises, he had two cracked ribs and a bruised kidney.

When Perry, Della and Salvatore entered his hospital room Tony was drifting in and out from the sedatives and pain medication. Dr. Baxter was still checking his patient, and a nurse was adjusting the feed from an IV bag.

Upon seeing his right-hand man, Salvatore let out a string of Italian phrases that Perry was sure contained numerous swear words. He went to the side of the bed, gently laying his hand on Tony's arm.

"On my oath, mio amigo, I will see that this bastardo pays for what he has done."

Perry stepped up to put his hand on Salvatore's shoulder. "Easy, my friend. Revenge is wrong in any language and unhelpful in this case especially. Let's not cause any more problems right now. One thing at a time. And considering they've dropped all charges against Tony rather than risk my lawsuit, I think right now we're ahead of the game."

Salvatore nodded his head. "I know you speak the truth, Perry. Yet, to see him like this…"

"I know. And we will take care of the man who did this. But let me do it legally, please."

Turning, Salvatore placed both hands on Perry's shoulders. "I have ultimate faith in you. Very well," he sighed, "I will wait."

"Good." Turning to the doctor, Perry suggested, "James, why not move your patient to a private room? Don't you think he would rest more comfortably if he isn't worried about visitors?"

Dr. Baxter met his eyes, read the message in their depths, and nodded. "We'll get Mr. Jones into a better space as soon as possible, Perry."

I suppose I'll have to loop in Tragg, but I'll hold off telling Hamilton. Until his emotions are under control, he is a loose cannon. I don't want him hounding Tony while he is unable to control his responses.

Salvatore processed the plans for Tony's safety. Although he trusted Perry, he had his own ideas for keeping his dear friend free from harm. Once he is moved, I am placing my own men in his room, at his door and in the hallway. No one will hurt him again.

Tony, who had lain motionless and silent, let out a deep, agonized moan. His lids fluttered, then opened into slits, revealing his pained eyes. He strained to look around the room, attempting to understand everything he saw. His vision was very blurred, both from the trauma of the punches he had taken and from the resulting swelling. The drugs weren't helping. Then, spotting Della, he managed to grimace into a small smile.

She came to the side of his bed and reached for his hand. "I'm right here, Tony," she said simply, careful not to squeeze the hand. The last thing she wanted was to inflict pain.

He attempted to arrange himself in a sitting position.

Della placed a restraining hand on his arm. "Easy, Tony. Don't move around. Dr. Baxter says you have some cracked ribs and a bruise on your kidney. Please, just lie quiet."

He snorted but stayed prone. "Yeah, so he says. I'm sure glad I didn't resist arrest. Otherwise, you might be staring at my casket." She blanched. He grimaced again. Then raising his head from the pillow, he was able to make out Perry and Salvatore who were talking with the doctor. "Glad to see you got the boss out."

Della relaxed a little and forced a sad smile. The man was lying in a hospital bed in serious condition, yet his concern was for his boss. She had already liked Tony; now she respected him.

"Yes, well—he had an alibi even Mr. Burger couldn't break. He was at the church when Attorney General Richards was . . . And he assured the judge he will stay around and available until things are sorted out."

Sorted out . . . sorted out . . . sorted out . . . The words played over and over in Tony's befuddled mind. There was something he needed to tell her—tell them—but for some reason, his mind wasn't supplying the thought. He managed to lock eyes on Della's face again, but because of the narrowed lids, he could only make out her features vaguely. Then it returned to him.

Tony grasped Della's hand in a vice-like grip. "Nicky?"

Across the room, Perry's head flew up, his blue eyes widened, and he wheeled around to study the figure on the hospital bed. The conversation around him died.

Della frowned, trying to understand why Tony had used that name. "Tony, wh—"

But Tony squeezed her hand hard. "Nicky, promise me that you, Johnny and especially the baby will stay at the house with the boss."

She shook her head in protest, her hazel eyes wide and searching. There was nothing in Tony's face to read. He squeezed her hand again, bringing her attention back to his mouth. Perry was in motion, striding to her side.

"Please . . . promise me, Nicky. Don't make me get out of this bed to prot—" He choked, cleared his throat, then finished, "stay with you."

Perry wrapped his arms around his wife and tucked his chin on her shoulder, looking down at the man. Salvatore, having finished giving his personal touches to the preparations with the doctor, joined them. The tension was palpable, practically reverberating from Della and Perry.

"Tony, you're scaring Della. What's going on?"

Tony ignored Perry's question and looked to Salvatore. "Boss, you need to keep . . ." The sedatives were winning. He tried to fight through it, to stay awake. "You must make them stay at the house. It's the only safe . . . only safe place . . ." His eyes closed.

Perry straightened, turning Della to look at him. "Darling, what exactly did he say?" He cast a glance at his client. "Salvatore, what is he talking about? Why should we stay at the house?" When he didn't respond, Perry prompted again, "Salvatore?"

Della gazed up into his now midnight-blue eyes. "Perry, Tony was trying to tell me something. He called me Nicky and you Johnny. I think this whole mess is tied back to Rico and the nightclub."

She was trembling. He gently gathered her closer, resting his cheek against her soft curls as she tucked her head under his chin. Salvatore looked from the man he considered another son lying in the bed to Della, who he loved as a daughter, to Perry, a man whom he respected more than anyone he had known.

If Tony was concerned enough that he wanted them at his house, then Salvatore was going to make sure that was where they would be. After all, his estate was like a fortress. And with all of his resources, he could make sure that fortress was secure.

His mouth tightened into a fighting line. "Perry, I think you, Della and the bambino should indeed stay at my home. Tony would not have been so adamant if there was not a reason for it. No, do not protest. I am insistent in this."

When Perry would have argued, Della lifted her head and looked deeply into his soul. He stared back into her expressive hazel eyes and gave in. "Very well, Salvatore. We would be happy to accept your hospitality."

"Gracie. I will make sure everything is prepared for your stay. Della, my dear, do you suppose you could convince your delightful aunt to join us?"

Della laughed at that. It might have been in relief. Moving away from Perry's arms, she linked her arm with the older man. "I'm sure it won't be too hard."

Perry grinned. "Since leaving her in charge of the reception, you might not have a staff to call your own ever again!"

Della shot him a look, but she was smiling in response. "Perry has a point. You may need to replace your entire staff once she finally leaves."

The trio were interrupted as Dr. Baxter re-entered the room. "If you wouldn't mind moving the party to the hallway, we're ready to move Mr. Jones to a private room."

"Sorry, James." Taking Della's arm, Perry motioned to Salvatore. "Let's wait outside. Once he's moved, we'll head back to the house."

The baptism party was starting to wind down by the time Perry, Della and Salvatore arrived back at the estate. Most of the guests had departed, but the two women at the center of the party didn't seem bothered by that detail. Perry and Della were not the least surprised to find Mae Kirby holding a giggling, very much awake, Katherine in her arms, while Mildred Tragg made faces and cooing noises at the little girl.

Della smiled up at Perry. "Well, my love, I don't think we will ever have trouble finding a babysitter if we need one."

Perry hugged his wife tightly against his side. "That is the understatement of the year."

"Perhaps we'd better rescue our daughter before she forgets who we are."

"In a minute," he murmured, keeping his voice low as his mouth moved to her ear. "I want to enjoy the moment. We aren't going to have many of these." He was smiling in pleasure, both in his daughter and in his wife's aunt, who was his own surrogate mother. Breathing deeply, he admitted, "I love you, Della. I love Katherine. I love us. Whatever else happens with this case, I have no regrets."

She angled herself for a better look at him. "Sweetheart, I'm nervous."

"I know," he said. "But I'm not."

Salvatore, seeing that everything was indeed alright, slipped away and entered his office, closing the door quietly and locking it. Walking to a panel behind his desk, he pushed a small button at the side, waiting as the panel slid silently back. Stepping through, he pushed another small button sending the panel back into place.

Now flipping a switch on the wall, a row of lights in the ceiling illuminated the dark passageway. Treading slowly over the rough floor, he followed the passage down until he arrived at another seemingly solid wall. This time he reached into his pocket, retrieving what looked like an ordinary credit card. Placing the card flat against the wall where a handle ought to be, a soft beep sounded, and the wall swung inward. Salvatore entered the brightly lit room, making sure the wall closed securely behind him.

Lieutenant Tragg arrived within ten minutes after Perry and Della, gathered his wife, and—over her protests that she wanted to stay with Mae—left the small family to themselves.

Della took her little girl from her aunt. "Time for lunch, Little One," she announced, her voice soft and musical. "To the nursery with you, young lady." Looking seriously at her husband, she nodded toward Mae. "Wasn't there something you were going to tell Aunt Mae, Perry?"

His blue eyes danced in amusement. "Fuzzy end of the lollipop, my hindquarters!" She blew him a kiss as she readjusted Katherine in her arms. He beamed down at his daughter. "See you soon, Katnip."

As Della carried a yawning Katherine out of the hall, Perry grasped Mae's arm and led her to a chair.

"Don't baby me, Perry Mason. What's happened? Is my Della okay?"

Perry took both of her weathered hands in his. "Easy, Mae. Della's fine, I'm fine and everything is okay. You saw Salvatore yourself. The charges have been dropped. For now. But there have been some developments that are of a concern. We don't yet know who committed the murder." At Mae's concerned expression, Perry smiled. "No, not Salvatore. He has a perfect alibi! Us."

"Oh, thank heavens."

"But because of the apparent connection to the case Della and I worked last year, we've decided to spend a little time here at Salvatore's, at his request. Would you be alright with that?"

Mae eyed her favorite nephew skeptically but nodded. "What you mean, of course, is that someone is threatening Della or you, and this place is some kind of Masada. You want me here, too. But is that your idea, or Sal's?" When he didn't answer, she nodded again. "Whatever you think is best." She leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek. "I think I'll go see if I can help Della."

He watched in mute appreciation as she rose and walked out of the room. Now I know where Della gets her strength and resilience. I hope this is the right thing. Why do I have the uneasy feeling we could be putting all of our eggs in one basket?

Perry was just about to go in search of Salvatore when Paul hurried in.

He sent his voice ahead of him. "Perry! We've got a serious problem. Nate . . . Nate Donovan escaped from prison yesterday."