8

Anne fled to the back corner of the elevator as Matt Booker stepped in with his clients, Beth Dietz and her ponytailed husband, Bill. On his right side stood Janine Bonnard, a pretty young woman in a gray Gap suit, who was being deposed today. Anne kept her stovepipe down and prayed Matt wouldn’t recognize her, though he seemed so preoccupied he wouldn’t have noticed if she’d been Godzilla.

She stole a sideways glance at him. Dark circles ringed his normally bright eyes, his broad shoulders slumped in a navy suit with no tie, and his thick hair wasn’t neat enough for a deposition. She wondered if he was upset because of her. His briefcase at his side, he looked over at Mary.

“Mary, I’m so sorry about Anne,” he said. Grief weighed down his usually confident voice. “Have you heard anything more from the police, since we talked? Don’t they have any leads on who . . . killed her?”

Oh, jeez. Anne’s face was on fire. She felt terrible, seeing him like this.

“Not yet,” Mary said. “But they’re working on it, I know.”

“Please give my condolences to her family, and if there’s anything I can do to help you . . . or the police, please let me know. Keep me in the loop, okay? I’d like to know what’s going on.”

“I will, thanks.”

“I can’t imagine who would do this. I just can’t . . .” Matt’s voice trailed off and he hung his head.

“None of us can,” Mary told him, her face tight. Obviously, she didn’t like lying as much as Anne did.

“Please give our sympathy to her family, as well.” It was Beth Dietz, and her husband nodded.

“I will,” Mary said. “Listen, I’m running a little late for the deposition. I have to get this new messenger started.” She gestured quickly at Anne, who kept her head down. “Can you let me have an extra ten minutes?”

“Of course. Like I told you on the phone, I would have agreed to move the dep back if you wanted to.”

“Thanks, but it won’t be necessary.”

“Who will be trying the case, now that Anne is—”

“God knows.”

Ping! The elevator doors slid open on the third floor. Rosato & Associates, read the brass letters on the wall, above the familiar rug, cloth chairs, and glass coffee table. Anne felt strangely as if she were coming back into her own life, but she couldn’t risk lingering. She got off the elevator last and hurried out of the reception area, with her back turned to Matt.

Mary lead Matt and his clients to one of the two conference rooms off the reception area and opened the door for them. “If you’ll wait for me in there, I’ll be right out. The bathrooms are on the left, and the court reporter’s already set up inside. I’ll be back in ten.”

“Thanks,” Matt said, and Mary scooted down the hall, right behind Anne.

“You’re alive!” Mary bear-hugged a startled Anne, yanking her close to a linen blouse that smelled of Ivory soap and powdery antiperspirant. Anne’s Uncle Sam disguise lay discarded on Mary’s neat desk, where Mel was sniffing her fake beard delicately. His coat looked silky in the sunlight streaming through the window, a fuzzy cat against smooth legal briefs. Lawyer Cat. Mary was beside herself. “I don’t believe it! I don’t believe it! This is so great!”

“Let her go before you kill her,” Judy said from the door to Mary’s office, but even she was smiling. Bennie stood next to her, grinning over a white porcelain mug that read java diva.

“I’m so happy!” Mary segued into rocking Anne. “I’m so happy you’re alive!”

“Is she always like this?” Anne asked as she swayed back and forth, and Bennie nodded.

“Yes, I’ve delegated all of my emotions to her. She has them for me, Carrier, and the entire Philadelphia Bar Association. It frees us up to bill time.”

“This is so great!” Mary finally released Anne and stood in front of her tan credenza near the door. Her hair was still a messy ponytail and her brown eyes flashed with animation. “Tell us everything, girl! I thought you were a ghost!”

“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” Anne said, but Mary’s forehead wrinkled.

“Of course there is.”

Chick is a little crazy. Anne let it go and reached for Mel to give him a kiss hello. He greeted her with a where-were-you sniffing of the tip of her nose. Eskimo Cat.

“Tell us what happened, from the beginning,” Bennie said. She eased onto the credenza with her coffee, and her smile faded. “I identified you, Murphy. I swear I saw you, dead, at the morgue. It was horrifying.”

“But the face had to be—”

“It was, I could hardly bring myself to look at it. Your—or her—face was a mess, and there was cotton wadding from the blast, embedded where your eyes would have been. We all saw the body, but I made the ID, I signed the papers. I didn’t think to question it. She had on your clothes, and her hair was red, even though it was covered with—”

Anne waved her off. “I get the picture. And I could see how you made the mistake.”

“So, tell us what really happened,” Judy chimed in quickly, eager to change the subject. She hopped up on the credenza and took a seat beside Bennie, dangling her red clogs. With her overalls she wore long silver earrings that swung whenever she moved.

How weird. The four of us together, in Mary’s office. Anne knew it had never happened before, and they stood in the same office she had crashed only yesterday. She was having a hard time looking Judy in the eye, knowing what she felt inside, but the girl was so cute, with her face round as a circle, Campbell’s-kid smile, and chopped-off crayon-yellow hair. Anne suppressed her resentment and let it rip. She told them everything, starting last year with Kevin, then fast-forwarding to Willa’s murder, and how she had seen them at her house, then the call from Dr. Goldberger about Kevin’s escape. She edited out her eavesdropping on their conversation, and if anybody realized she had overheard them, they didn’t mention it.

Even Judy stilled as the story ended, her baby face positively colicky, but Mary looked shaken and grave. On the credenza, Bennie’s gaze remained out the window, and her empty coffee mug hung from a thumb. She spoke first:

“I’m wondering about a critical assumption you’re making, Murphy. You assume that the killer is Kevin and he meant to kill you, and I see why. The facts look like that, especially given his escape.” Bennie looked at Anne directly, her blue eyes cutting like ice. “But it’s at least a possibility that the killer isn’t Kevin, and also that, whoever he is, he did mean to kill Willa.”

Anne didn’t get it. “Bennie, you said exactly the opposite to the cops. You said it was a no-brainer that it was Kevin.”

“I didn’t know then that Willa was at your house, so that changes the facts for me. It should for you, too.” Bennie’s eyes narrowed. “Was Willa seeing anyone? I assume she wasn’t married, if she agreed to cat-sit for you.”

“She was single, and I know she wasn’t dating anyone.”

“How old was she?”

“About my age.”

“Where did she work?”

“At home, I think. She was an artist, she worked alone.”

“She must have had friends, family.”

“I guess so, but I don’t know anything else about her, except that I think she lived off a trust fund. I know she’s not from here, originally. She told me that once. I have no idea where her family lives or how to reach them.”

“We have to find them. She was their daughter, their sister. They have a right to know she’s dead. Where did she live?”

“In town, somewhere. I only knew her from the gym.”

“You can find out where she lived, how hard can that be?” Bennie didn’t wait for an answer. “Tell me about the last time you saw Willa. You said she ran to your house from the gym. Did she have anything on her? A purse or a gym bag? Keys? The police found no identification on her.”

Anne flashed on Willa, huffing on her front step. “No. Her hands were empty.”

“Do you need to show ID or a membership card to use your gym?”

“Yes.” Anne finished the thought. “So Willa would have had to bring her ID and her purse with her, to get into the gym. It may still be there, with her keys, and the lockers are usually unlocked. I never leave my stuff there. I bring just my keys, membership card, and a dollar for a bottle of Evian.”

“We’ll follow up on that, too.” Bennie paused. “Another thing. Did you really have a date last night? Was that true?”

Anne avoided Mary’s eyes. “No date. I haven’t gone out in a year. Kevin Satorno was my last date.” She had to get Bennie back on track. “That’s why I know Willa wasn’t the intended victim. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was Kevin and he wanted to kill me. He’s been in prison, probably following my career, maybe even reading about me and Chipster. The Philly papers are on-line. And the sawed-off shotgun, the attack at the front door, everything is the same as before, in L.A. He’s probably been watching my house since he escaped.”

Bennie cocked an eyebrow. “Then why didn’t he see you leave for the shore last night? Why didn’t he see Willa come over?”

“Maybe he wasn’t watching at that moment, and I didn’t go until it was almost dark, a little after nine o’clock. I hung around, we talked a little and played with Mel. I lent Willa my shirt and a pair of clean shorts, since she’d come straight from the gym. What time did the murder take place, do they know?”

“About eleven o’clock, they think so far.” Bennie mulled it over. “And your hallway light didn’t work? How do you know it didn’t burn out this morning, when you turned it on?”

“I never used it, not once. I doubt there’s even a bulb in it.” Anne kicked herself for not checking. “Bennie, I’m telling you, it was Kevin who came to shoot me last night, just like before, and I’m certain he thinks he killed me.”

Judy was shaking her head slowly. “But Bennie could be right. It’s at least a logical possibility somebody meant to kill Willa, for some reason. We know so little about her.”

Mary shot her a sidelong look. “No, I think Anne is right. An attempt was made on her life, just a year ago. Kevin was the one who tried to kill her before, and he’s escaped from prison. He’s obsessed with her, he’s a stalker. She’s the much likelier victim. No doubt.”

Eeek. Our first fight. Anne could feel battle lines being drawn. Mel chose her side, even though he had fallen asleep on Mary’s desk. Loyalty Cat.

Bennie raised a hand like a traffic cop. “Hold on, let’s table the discussion for a minute. There’s another assumption I don’t like, Murphy. If the killer is Kevin, why do you assume he’s still in town? If he’s a fugitive and he killed you, why wouldn’t he just run? His job is done and he doesn’t want to get caught. Any murderer would bolt.”

“Not an erotomanic. That’s not the way they think. Kevin views himself as linked to me, romantically, forever. It’s all imagined, of course, but it’s strong. He’ll want to see where I worked, maybe even see you guys.”

“I agree, stalkers are in a league of their own,” Mary said quietly. Her brown eyes flickered, and she raked a dark-blond strand back with manicured fingernails. “You know, once I had a problem with . . . someone.”

“Really, you?” Anne looked over in surprise, though she knew the statistics. Three out of every ten women will be stalked in their lives. So she and Mary did have something in common, after all. She just wished it were something good, like compulsive spending.

“My case was a little different, because I didn’t realize I was being stalked. But I remember, you have to be careful how you deal with a stalker, and it’s no win. If you go to the cops, it makes him crazy. If you don’t, you’re unprotected.”

Right. It was so nice to finally be understood, and by somebody who wasn’t court-appointed. “That’s why I never should have gotten the restraining order against Kevin. It punctured his delusion that I loved him. It was the ultimate rejection, one even he couldn’t deny, and it became a declaration of war.”

“But you had every right to go to court!” Judy said, and next to her Bennie nodded.

“You did the right thing. You were trying to protect yourself.”

Anne tried to explain. “Ten percent of women in abuse or stalking scenarios are killed right after they apply for a restraining order. In New York, they found one woman dead—with her restraining order knifed to her chest.” She fell silent at the horrible image. “These obsessive types, they’re different from normal murderers, if there is such a thing. That’s why Kevin will stay in town. He’ll want to be around me, to walk places I walked. To stay near me, even in death.”

Mary shuddered. “I would bet this guy won’t leave Philly before your funeral.”

“True,” Anne said, though she hadn’t thought far enough ahead to a funeral. “But it’s Willa’s body in the morgue. What will they do?” They all looked at Bennie, since she always knew everything.

“The medical examiner won’t release the body for two or three weeks, given the holiday and the backlog.”

“Backlog?” Anne asked. The term applied to bills, not bodies.

“July Fourth, in the City of Brotherly Love? The fireworks are in the ERs. The medical examiner has a small staff, too. They’ll do blood and DNA tests on Willa’s body, but the results won’t be in until next week, since the ID is unquestioned. If we don’t say anything, it’s possible that they’ll release her body for burial, thinking it’s yours.” A pall fell over all of them for a minute, then Bennie continued. “We can’t have that, for Willa’s sake. We have to find Willa’s family, and we have to call the cops, Murphy. Tell them that Satorno escaped and that you’re alive. And that they have the wrong person reported dead.”

“Absolutely not. I won’t tell the cops, but I agree with you about Willa’s family. We can find them and tell them, maybe convince them to work with us to find her killer.”

“No, that’s not tenable. Hear me out.” Bennie held up a finger with the mug slung on it. “Kevin is a dangerous fugitive, and the cops can find him sooner than we can. They have the manpower, the resources, the expertise. They can put out an APB to all uniforms, contact the FBI, interface with the California authorities.”

“You heard what they said, they only have forty cops covering all of Center City. They can’t even cover my house. Besides, I trusted the cops once to protect me and almost ended up dead. They couldn’t even charge Kevin with attempted murder, that’s why he got so little time. I won’t rely on the justice system. It almost killed me.”

Bennie looked grim. “Murphy. You are in real danger from this man, and it’s no time for amateurs.”

“No cops.”

“I don’t agree.”

“It’s not your life.”

Bennie didn’t flinch. “Murphy, you mistake me. I own this law firm, and you are my employee. I am chargeable with your actions, which means that I am responsible for everything that happens here and everything that you do. Like hiring naked men, for starters.” She couldn’t find her smile. “I cannot have this information and not disclose it to the police. It approaches obstruction of justice. They’re investigating the murder of the wrong person, and we have material information about the whereabouts of a major suspect.” Bennie folded her arms, and Anne folded hers, too. Judy and Mary watched the showdown in silence.

“Bennie, if you tell them, I’m outta here.”

“Child, if you leave, you’re fired. And I tell the cops anyway.”

Ouch. Anne had to get better at folding her arms or she was sunk. “Wait, I got an idea. How about we compromise? You tell the cops that Kevin’s escaped, but don’t tell them I’m alive. Then I get to play dead and keep looking for him. You get to tell the cops and let them get busy. This way we’re all working to find Kevin, us and the cops!”

“No, it’s too dangerous,” Bennie answered, but she hesitated. “Let the professionals find Satorno. They know what they’re doing.”

“They can’t even find him in jail! He’s a nobody to the Philly police! You heard the detective!”

Mary nodded. “Like Anne says, none of us can judge her until we’re in her shoes. Even I can’t know what that’s like. If it’s her life at stake, we should do it her way, with her compromise.”

Judy finally spoke. “I agree. Let’s tell the cops he’s escaped, but let’s follow up, too. We run our own murder investigations all the time, parallel to whatever the cops are doing. This is nothing new, not to us.”

Whoa. Anne glanced over in surprise, but said nothing. Judy’s words clearly carried weight with Bennie, who was looking at the three associates with exasperation.

“But what do I tell the cops, girls? How would I know that Kevin has escaped if Murphy’s really dead? She’s the one who got the call from the shrink, not me.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Anne answered. “You found my mother, didn’t you? Go ahead, call the cops, but let me stay dead at least until Tuesday morning.”

“Why Tuesday morning?”

“Tuesday morning I try Chipster.”

Bennie looked at Anne like she was crazy. “You can’t think you’re trying that case! No way will you be ready for trial with what’s going on, and God knows it would be a miracle if the cops find Satorno that quick. Murphy, staging a full civil trial is a complicated thing. You have to postpone.”

“I can’t. Gil wanted to go forward, to stay on track with his IPO. In this climate, everybody wants funding and it’s a coup to get it. If there’s a hiccup of any type, the funding will take a pass. That’s why we didn’t settle the case in the first place—Gil wanted to be completely vindicated for his Board and the venture capital guys. If we derail the case now, he loses the IPO. End of Chipster.”

“So don’t postpone, but don’t you try the case. Not with what’s going on with Satorno. Be practical, Murphy!” Bennie slid off the credenza and onto her running shoes. “Look, I’ll reshuffle some deps and try it for you.”

“Thank you, but I want to try it myself.” Anne felt surprised at the strength of her feelings, until she understood their source. “Kevin Satorno has taken quite enough from me. A new friend. My new home. My feeling of safety. My peace of mind. He’s not going to take my job, too. It’s my case and my client.” She folded her arms again, at least mentally. “I call these shots.”

Bennie sighed. “Okay, fair enough. You brought the client in, you make the decisions.” She checked her watch. “Let’s rock and roll. I have to call the cops. DiNunzio, you gotta take the dep. The court reporter must be threatening to leave by now. Murphy, you stay here, so no one can see you.”

“Thanks.” Relieved, Anne turned to Mary, who was already getting up from her desk. “Mary, you know what to do, right? Get Bonnard to talk about the incident last May. You know, she claims Gil Martin hit on her, at a seminar they went to at the Wyndham. Gil says she’s pissed because she didn’t get a raise, and we can document that with the e-mails she wrote. Pin her down on the details, so we can try to predict her testimony at trial.”

“Got it. It shouldn’t take long.” Mary went around her desk, collecting her notes and exhibits. “Feel free to use anything in the office, but stay inside, at least until the dep’s over.”

“Right.” Bennie paused at the doorway, her hand on the knob. “And one last thing. You should know that I spoke with Gil last night. He was obviously upset about your murder, and so was his wife. How are you going to handle that? Are you going to tell them you’re alive?”

“I was going to. I trust Gil. He’ll keep it confidential.” Anne felt Judy’s eyes boring into her back. What was it she had said? Gil Martin would never have hired Anne if she hadn’t looked the way she did.

“Can I make a suggestion?” Bennie asked. “Why don’t you hold off on telling the client for now? You have to lay low, and with Gil thinking that I’m handling the case, just let it be for now. Think about it.” Bennie opened the door and let Mary out. “And find out more about Willa, okay? We have to talk to her family. And I’m not convinced she wasn’t the target. Get on it. Humor me.”

Damn. So she hadn’t convinced Bennie. Anne felt vaguely defeated as the office door closed, leaving her and Judy alone in the small, clean office. They looked at each other, then looked away. They didn’t like each other. Anne didn’t know what to say. If I can’t talk about lipstick, I’m fresh out of conversation.

“Thanks for the support, with Bennie,” Anne said finally, because that needed saying.

“No problem.”

Okay, now go. “You don’t have to hang with me or anything, Judy. I’m fine, and you probably have work to do.”

“Nope, I’m good. My cases are nice and quiet. It’s summertime.”

“Then why stick around the office? You probably have something better to do, for the holiday. You have a boyfriend, don’t you?”

“Yes, Frank Lucia, from the Lucia case. You met him, remember?”

No. “Sure.”

“He went fishing for the weekend. I was just painting at home, when this happened. I’ll stick around and keep you company.”

GO AWAY! “Whatever.”

The office fell quiet except for the crowd of media outside. The window overlooked Locust Street, and Judy turned toward it, gesturing. “Noisy out there,” she said.

“Reporters.”

“Let’s go drop water balloons.” Judy went to the window, but Anne hung back. It drove her nuts that Judy was trying to be nice to her. Mental note: Some feelings make no sense.

Judy turned and waved her over. “Come here, look at this. It’s a zoo!”

Anne went to the window, of smoked glass, and looked out. A sea of people shifted and moved in front of the building, bigger than before. Reporters with microphones, tape machines, and notepads, and photographers with videocameras, print cameras, and klieg lights. A hot-dog vendor with a red-striped umbrella peddled lunch, and a young black kid handed out advertising flyers. Anne counted three Uncle Sams and one uniformed cop.

She squinted against the sun, scanning for Kevin. She wished she could start looking for him right now. He could be down there. It would make sense. The day was slipping away. The weekend was slipping away. She had lost enough of her life to that asshole. And he had killed Willa. Anne had to find him. To make him pay and to make herself, finally, safe.

“You’re looking for him, aren’t you?” Judy asked, reading Anne’s thoughts, which annoyed her.

“Yes.”

“What does he look like?”

“Why?”

“I can look, too. Two pairs of eyes are better than one. It’s four eyes altogether. It’s a lot of eyes.” Judy grinned, and Anne was pretty sure she was kidding.

“Well, he’s good-looking, for a psycho. He has pale blond hair and blue eyes, close together. His nose is long and sort of beaked, a little—”

“Wait.” Judy held up a palm, turned from the window, and began ransacking Mary’s desk. She stopped when she found a small pad of white paper and a sharpened pencil. “Start over, with his eyes.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to draw him.”

“Why?”

“I understand things better when I draw them.”

This chick is crazy, too. Maybe I wasn’t missing anything.

“Start again, with the eyes—”

“They’re blue.” Anne went into a detailed description, surprised that she remembered as much as she did about Kevin’s face. She had read that many stalking victims become obsessed with their stalkers, but she thought it was simply impossible to forget the face of someone who had looked at you with intent to kill. “Light blue, scary blue. And he has a weak chin, by the way. It goes back a little.”

“Recedes.”

“Totally.”

“Got it.” Judy sketched some more, asked a few more questions, then, after ten minutes, flipped the pad over and held it up. “How’s this?”

My God. The likeness was almost dead-on. It looked like Kevin’s face emerging from the sketch. Right in front of Anne.

“You hate it.” Judy’s face fell.

“No! I mean yes! I hate it and it’s him! Exactly. You are incredible!”

Judy turned the pad over, surprised at her own handiwork. “I never did that before, drew from words. Usually I only draw from life. Or pictures.”

“It’s like a composite! A police composite!” Anne came around and stood next to Judy, staring at the sketch. It was almost as good as a mug shot and was already giving her an idea. “Can I have it?”

“Sure.” Judy handed her the pad. “Why?”

Eeek. “You really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a secret.”

“I can keep a secret.”

Anne didn’t know if she could trust her; she didn’t even know if she wanted to trust her. Judy might try to stop her, tell Bennie, or do something equally sensible. Anne had never confided in a woman she liked, much less one she didn’t.

“Well? You gonna tell me?” Judy cocked her head, her silver earring dangling to the side, and on the desk, even Mel raised his chin, waiting for her response with interest.

Curiosity Cat.