13

The next morning found Bennie in her office at seven o’clock. It had taken her until late to get the house back in order and she hadn’t slept much, but with adrenaline and caffeine she was coming around. Marshall and the associates had put the offices back together after the police search, hard work which wasn’t in anybody’s job description. And for that Bennie felt responsible.

A pale ray of sunlight shone translucent through her window, too weak to warm her, glaring off the hard finish of the papers cluttering her desk. She normally loved to work early in the morning, but she was feeling wretched this morning. She had lost a father she’d never known. It left her feeling oddly restless, and had implications for the present. If the Rices didn’t call her, she’d have to find another way to get to Alice. But for the time being she had to concentrate.

Today was the day of fighting back, on all fronts. First, fighting Alice. No way could Alice dress like her today. Bennie had retired the khaki uniform that was too easy to copy, and this morning she was wearing a bright red suit she’d bought on sale at Ann Taylor but had never worn because the color was too Nancy Reagan. Its short jacket cinched in at the waist, and its skirt was high enough to have locked Bennie into shaving above her knees. Eek. And she’d brushed her hair and moussed it back into a sleek, if wavy, ponytail, which was disguise enough for the present.

She’d channeled the remainder of last night’s angst into work, drafting a discovery, interrogatories, and document requests in support of St. Amien. She had to get this case—and this client—back on track. She’d called St. Amien’s office last night, hoping to explain that pesky felony arrest on the street, but he hadn’t returned her calls. Concerned, she’d E-mailed him and asked him to meet her today, but he hadn’t responded. He wasn’t the E-mail type, so she’d assume she wasn’t fired and go forward. Asserting his legal interests was the best way to keep him happy, and Bennie was coming out slugging. She swiveled her desk chair to her computer keyboard and opened the file for the draft discovery on the screen, then reviewed it carefully, putting on the finishing touches.

Bennie read the interrogatories, which were one of the better sets she’d written, and hit the Print icon with satisfaction. Usually when she drafted discovery she’d anticipate striking fear into the heart of the opposition, but this time she was thinking about giving a cardiac to her co-counsel. She refused to let Linette and his posse run all over her. She had to get the upper hand on becoming lead counsel, and she knew just how to do it. She imagined Linette’s ruddy face when he got her papers—and the other trick she had up her very stylish sleeve—which she would set in motion right now.

She hit a button on her computer and summoned onto the screen a fresh white sheet of computer paper. She was supposed to be a maverick; she’d start acting like one. She tapped away on the keyboard. She couldn’t keep playing nice with Linette, attending meetings that he ran, at his office, on his agenda. His was a closed club and they’d never let her in. Good girls didn’t get to be lead counsel. She’d take this battle straight to the top. There was only one place to get justice, and it wasn’t from a lawyer.

She had almost finished when Mary DiNunzio stuck a head inside her door, reminding Bennie of a turtle peeking out of its shell. “Bennie, can I ask you a dumb question?”

Bennie looked up from her computer with a reflexive frown. “DiNunzio, could you sell yourself any shorter? Don’t ever begin a conversation that way.” Her tone was unnecessarily harsh, but she was in high maverick mode. Unfortunately, it had the effect of driving the associate deeper into her shell.

“Okay. Sorry. Forget it.” DiNunzio’s head retracted. “I’ll come back when you’re not busy.”

“No!” Bennie shouted, then got up and went to the door in time to catch her. “DiNunzio, come back here.” She tried to change her tone from ballbuster to kindergarten teacher, but it had been a long night. “Please, come back here.”

“Okay.” DiNunzio turned and came back slowly in her conservative print dress, with its high neck and thin leather belt. Either the associate dressed kind of retro or everything old was new again, but Bennie didn’t care. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just don’t want you to be so wimpy.”

“Sorry.”

Bennie smiled. “Stop apologizing for yourself. Don’t be such a good girl. You want to be lead counsel someday, don’t you? You’re tougher than this, aren’t you?”

“In my head, I am. But then it disappears when it goes outside.”

“Let’s give you a lesson. You go over there and sit in my seat, at my desk.” Bennie gave the associate a starter shove that propelled her into the office, where she walked around the desk and sat miserably down. “Watch me, DiNunzio. This is how you approach me in my office from now on.” Bennie cleared her throat, strode to her own office door, and gave it a stiff rap. “Bennie, you gotta minute?” she asked in a rapid-fire cadence that took the answer for granted.

“Uh, yes. I mean, bring it!”

“Say no, and say it exactly how I would.”

“No!” DiNunzio shouted, which Bennie overlooked.

“This is an important question. I have to speak with you, right now.” Bennie barged into her own office and took the seat opposite the associate, whose freshly made-up eyes flared with mild alarm. “Get it? See what I’m doing? How I’m acting?”

“Rude?”

“No, in control. Fueled by testosterone.”

DiNunzio snorted. “I forgot my injection.”

“Pretend. Imagine.”

“I can’t. I went to Catholic school.”

Bennie thought a minute. “Then act caffeinated. It’s basically the same thing.”

DiNunzio looked dubious.

“Channel Starbucks, and ask me what you came in to ask me.”

DiNunzio cleared her throat. In a strong voice she asked, “Can I go to Washington for Brandolini?”

“No.”

DiNunzio blinked. “Oh.”

“You just going to take no for an answer?”

“Well, yes. You’re the boss, and I don’t have a choice.”

“Bullshit! You have a good reason to go to D.C., don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve never asked to go on a business trip before, have you?”

“No.”

“In fact, this would be your very first one, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, fight for it. Gimme your best argument. Keep it short. People like short.”

DiNunzio squared her shoulders behind the desk. “I have to go to Washington. It’s my job.”

“Not that short.”

DiNunzio inhaled deeply. “It’s the only way I can find out what happened to Amadeo Brandolini. The records of his internment are there, in the War Department files in College Park, Maryland. I requested them under the Freedom of Information Act, but I have to wait four months unless I want to go there and see them for myself. I know it’s a bad time to be leaving the office, but I can’t wait that long, so I have to go.”

“Well done.” Bennie felt a guilty twinge. “But I don’t have the money to send you right now.”

“I’ll pay myself.”

Ouch. “You shouldn’t have to do that.”

“Why not? It’s my client and I can invest in it, same as you.”

Yowza. “I’ll reimburse you. How long will you be gone?”

“Two days.”

“Fine. You have my permission.”

“Who asked you?” DiNunzio shot back, and Bennie hid her smile, just as the telephone started ringing.

It was St. Amien. “Benedetta. I’m sorry to be returning your call so late. I had a minor emergency to deal with. My son.”

“Nothing serious I hope.”

“He needs money, naturellement. For clothes, food, CDs, books. This week here, that week there. You have no children, am I correct?”

“None without fur.”

“Excellent. Keep it that way. Since my wife passed away, Julien has been nothing but trouble. She had a special way with him, which I seem to lack.” St. Amien paused, and Bennie could hear the softest whoosh. He must be smoking his stinky cigarettes. “But enough of that. How are you, and what happened with the police yesterday? Judy called to let me know you were all right and that it was a case of mistaken identity. But what a scene that was! And they have you on TV, all over the news I see!”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Bennie said, but she had already decided to level with him. “My twin sister is back in town, making trouble. But don’t worry about it. I can deal with her.”

“A twin! How wonderful. You are identical?”

“Yes.”

“And she is the black sheep?”

Bennie smiled. A quaint notion. “This flock ain’t that uniform, Robert.”

“I see. In any event, so you’re not going to prison.”

“Not at all. They’ll be some fussing later, but I can clear that up, too,” Bennie answered with a light laugh. Then it occurred to her. Alice could make trouble for St. Amien, as well. “Though, just to be on the safe side, you should know that this twin looks exactly like me and has been running around posing as me. There’s even an outside chance she may approach you—as me—at some point. She’s taken to dressing like me too. We’re completely identical.”

“Ah, so she is lovely too.”

“Picture me with a criminal record,” she said, deflecting the compliment. She flashed on that kiss of the other day. St. Amien was the Pepé Le Pew of clients. “Her name is Alice Connelly and she’s a bold sort, Robert. So if I drop by your office unexpectedly, call here to double-check if it’s really me. I know this sounds awkward, but it needs saying.”

“You’re joking.”

“Wish I were.”

St. Amien blew out some smoke. “Benedetta, if you are in trouble, perhaps I can help you.”

Bennie felt touched, but worried. No client would keep that attitude for long. In three days St. Amien would be looking for a lawyer he didn’t have to help. She channeled reassurance and caffeine. “Robert, I think you have that backward. Thank you for your very kind offer, but I am here to help you. You stay the client and I’ll stay the lawyer, okay?”

“اa va.”

“And that, too.”

“Also, I did have a surprise visitor this morning, though it wasn’t your twin. Herman Mayer came to see me, without an appointment. It was Mayer who told me about you, on the TV. I was dealing with my son and hadn’t turned it on.”

Bennie felt mortified. “Mayer? What did he want?” she asked, but she was already guessing.

“To speak with me about switching lawyers, from you to Mr. Linette.”

Whoa. “Full-court press.”

“What means this?”

“It means they’re really pressuring you.”

“Herman Mayer cannot pressure me to do anything,” St. Amien said, his tone changing on a franc. “His opinions are of no moment to me. He and I have history, as you say.”

“How so?”

“We have been competitors for some time, he and I. I was going to tell you this when we went back to your office, but the police intervened, unfortunately. Mayer and I were both bidding on the Hospcare contract, the one which eventually fell through, as you know. He wanted it very badly, but they awarded it to us.”

Bennie raised an eyebrow, even over the phone. “I didn’t know that.”

“There you have it. I suspect that Herman is increasing his damages estimate in some artificial way, inflating the revenue from the contract I got. There can be no way his damages are greater than mine. None. He has seventy-five employees only and not even ten million in sales, and he didn’t build an entire plant on the strength of certain contracts. Perhaps he is smarter than I.” St. Amien laughed.

“Or maybe he just has less faith.”

“Perhaps. My company is much older than his, founded by my grandfather. Herman and I expanded our European facilities at the same time. He came to the States first, however. Moved here and gained a small foothold on the market two years before I saw the opportunity. As such he feels as if he were my superior, which is not the case, needless to say.”

But it’s cute that you said it anyway. Bennie liked this client. He seemed more human to her than when they had first met. Though the kiss by the elevator bank may have had something to do with it. Everybody needs positive reinforcement.

“So Herman and I had a brief, unpleasant meeting. I told him I was quite pleased with my counsel and wouldn’t switch.”

“Even with me getting arrested? And my wacky sister?”

“Ha! Wait until you meet my wacky brother, then we shall talk again. Ah, he does not work ten hours a week, but for play, his horses, he has much energy. Riding around and around a ring of twenty meters.” St Amien chuckled. “Don’t worry, Bennie. I stay with you, wacky family and all.”

This guy is loyal. Bennie flushed with gratitude. Maybe she could learn to smoke. She knew how to eat, and it was basically the same thing. But back to business. “You think that Linette put Mayer up to seeing you? Linette can’t contact you directly at this point, but parties to a lawsuit can always talk to one another.”

“I doubt it came from Linette. Mayer is too stubborn to listen to anyone, least of all a blowhard.”

Bennie smiled. “Blowhard! Who taught you that word? It sounds like a bad translation of asshole.”

“Benedetta, don’t be an asshole,” St. Amien said with a soft chuckle, and Bennie laughed.

“Okay, wise guy. You got my letter, you know what’s going on this afternoon. Meet me there at one. I’m doing it to shore up your position as lead plaintiff.”

“I understand, and I’ll see you at one o’clock. But tell me, how will I know you’re you and not your twin?”

“I’ll be the one you kissed,” Bennie said, and hung up with a smile. Touché. Then she caught herself. What the hell was she thinking? St. Amien was way too old for her, and he was a client. Was she that desperate? Of course not, right? Bennie rested a hand on the phone and couldn’t help but wonder: Can I get him to stop smoking?

Then she came to her senses. She had a master plan to set in motion, and kisses didn’t figure into it.