Where was the goddamn elevator? Two lawyers began to complain loudly. One in a three-piece suit seemed to be watching me, trying to catch my eye. Did he recognize me from the newspaper? From somewhere else? I turned away, to the gray marble wall.
Bing! The elevator came and I shoved my way in with the mob as the doors closed. The gleaming Rolex of the man sandwiched next to me read 9:42. It was the three-piece suit, who must have maneuvered for the position beside me. He flashed me a sly smile but I stared at the elevator buttons with apparent fascination. The panel was lit like carny lights, and I sweated bullets each time the elevator stopped on a floor that wasn’t mine.
9:43. We were at the ninth floor, with only one left to go.
The lawyer shifted closer. “Excuse me,” he said, “but don’t I know—”
Bing! Tenth Floor! I jumped out of the elevator, ran past the COURT IN SESSION sign, and slipped into the courtroom. I paused by the doors, slipped off my sunglasses, and scoped out the scene.
The gallery was fuller than the first day. Bob Wingate was there next to Renee Butler, as I’d hoped. The Honorable Judge Edward J. Thompson presided and Dr. Haupt sat stiffly in the witness stand. Eve Eberlein stood next to a projector that cast equations onto a white screen at the front of the courtroom. I hadn’t figured on the projector. All the better.
The wall clock said 9:44. Time to go. I strode past the bar of the court and slipped my paper under the overhead projector before Eve had time to react. “Your Honor,” I said, “members of the jury, would you please take a look at this exhibit? I think you’ll find it serves the cause of justice.”
“Bennie?” Eve sputtered. “Is that you?”
“Look at the screen. It’s Exhibit A.”
Eve whirled around and faced the projection screen. It was the news clipping, blown up larger than life at the front of the courtroom:
YORK MAN FOUND SLAIN
I heard her suck wind before she turned and said, “What are you doing here? I’m in the middle of a trial!”
From the dais, a puzzled Judge Thompson said, “Miss? Miss? Aren’t you out of order?”
“On the contrary, Your Honor,” I said. “This is my only chance to be heard, and it has to be in court to make the police listen.”
“Police? What police?”
I looked around. The courtroom was still. The wall clock ticked onto 9:45. No cops. The jury stared at me, everyone stared at me. My face flushed red. Goddamn elevators. “Uh, they’re on their way, Your Honor.”
Suddenly Azzic exploded through the courtroom doors with a squad of uniforms behind him and charged up the aisle.
“You killed this man, didn’t you, Eve?” I called out. “You and Renee Butler murdered him, just like you murdered Mark!”
“That’s outrageous!” Eve’s pretty features were etched with a controlled fury as she eyed the police. “You killed Mark, not me!”
Azzic stopped at mid-aisle and held back his men with a beefy hand. The gallery wheeled back and forth at the commotion.
“You and Renee,” I said. “You killed Eileen’s husband together. Don’t deny it. Renee confessed. She even gave me her key.” I reached into my blazer pocket and flashed the edge of my locker key. It was too big, but it would do.
Eve’s face slackened with momentary surprise and her gaze found Renee in the gallery.
“No, no!” Renee shouted, jumping to her feet. “That’s not true! That’s not my key!” Her hands flew to the neckline of her dress and she fumbled with the deep folds of cloth.
A group of court security officers banged through the courtroom doors. Most of the gallery was on its feet and headed for the exits, flooding the aisles. “What is going on here?” Judge Thompson demanded, but nobody was listening, least of all me.
“She’s lying, Eve,” I said, playing one off against the other. “She told the cops everything. That’s why they’re here, to arrest you. You stabbed Eileen’s husband to death and you hid the murder weapon in a safety deposit box. Renee wears her key on a necklace, you keep yours on that charm bracelet. I remembered your line from the opinion letter, ‘keys to a treasure chest.’ I confronted Renee and she told me the whole story.”
“No, no, no!” Renee cried. She began to panic and clawed frantically at her dress for the key. Azzic stood hard as bone, watching the scene in grim silence.
“Order! Come to order!” Judge Thompson shouted, slamming his gavel. Crak! Crak! Crak!
“This is ridiculous!” Eve spat out. “I’ll sue you for defamation, for slander!” A sneer crept across her lipsticked mouth. She was too smart to incriminate herself, and I hadn’t expected her to. I knew which one of them had a heart. I turned to Renee.
“Tell her the truth, Renee! Eileen’s husband was your idea, but Mark was all Eve’s. The cops have a statement from Jessie Morgan, from the law clinic.”
“Jessie?” Renee froze on the spot, her eyes wide and brimming with tears. Her hands ceased her frantic motion and her fingers halted at her neck, encircling her own throat. I felt a pang of sympathy but went straight for the jugular. She had killed Mark and she had betrayed me.
“You planted the scissors on me when you went to my apartment, Renee. You called in your chit with Eileen and got her to frame me for the CEO’s murder. You had Eileen kill Bill because he wouldn’t go along with it. Say it now. Tell the truth. This is your chance. You don’t have to keep the secret anymore.”
“No, no, no!” Renee cried out, her face contorted with anguish. She shook her head and began to sob. “It was … Eve’s idea. I didn’t want to kill Mark. He didn’t … do anything. She said she’d tell … about Eileen, what we did. She wanted the firm for herself. The new firm, the money.”
I would have cheered the confession, but a wave of exhaustion washed over me, leaving me trembling. My eyes welled up with tears of relief. It was over.
Suddenly Eve bolted past an astounded jury to the judge’s entrance by the dais. Azzic signaled to the uniformed cops, who chased up the aisle after her. Security guards clambered over the emptying pews to where Renee had slumped, weeping. Judge Thompson banged the gavel in vain. Crak! Crak! Crak!
Azzic fought his way up the aisle and stared at me, his eyes flickering with the tiniest twinge of regret, quickly masked.
I wiped my eyes, self-conscious. “Nice policework, Azzic.”
When I looked up he was gone.
40
I woke up lazily the next morning, savoring the sensation of rest and peace. I tugged the comforter to my chin, taking a leisurely inventory: I was safe in my own bed, Bear snored in her favorite spot at my side, and a lawyer banged around in my kitchen. “Hey, you,” I called out.
“Hey, yourself.”
“Come back to bed.”
“I’m busy.” There was the clang of a pot, then cabinet doors opening and closing.
“What are you doing?”
“None of your business.”
“When are you coming back?”
“When I’m good and ready.” The tap was turned on, then off.
“But I’m good and ready now.” I’d been less tired than I thought last night, and this morning I was feeling even less tired than that. Must be the rowing. A useful sport.
“Stop being so bossy!”
“I can’t help it, I’m the boss.”
“Are not, partner.”
I smiled. “Are we partners now? I’ll have to think about that.”
“Rosato & Wells is fine with me. I know how shy you are.”
In the next instant I heard it. A gurgle I could identify in my sleep. My heart leapt up. I hoped against hope. “The paper towels are—”
“I found them,” he said, and I snuggled under the covers in delicious anticipation. Life was good. A man with this set of skills was hard to find. I doubted I’d look any further. The aroma of his perfect coffee arrived just as he did.
“Lord, are you rude!” Grady said, naked except for his briefs and the STUDMUFFIN Mug I’d swiped fr
om Homicide when I’d sprung him. My fee to be a nuisance. And now it was full.
“Coffee!” I sat up and reached for it thirstily. The first sip hit my tongue. It was my third orgasm in eight hours.
“Drink fast. We have something important to do.” Grady sat on the bed and grinned at me.
“More important than coffee?”
“Absolutely.”
“What could possibly be more important than coffee?” I was backsliding into Mae West, but Grady only frowned.
“You think I mean sex? No way.” He plucked his pants from the floor and pulled them on. “Drink up and get dressed.”
“What?”
“It’s all arranged. I fixed it while you were asleep.” He searched for his workshirt. “We have somewhere to go.”
“Where?”
“You’ll see,” he said, and even Bear lifted her ears, intrigued.
Ten minutes later, I was locked in one of Hattie’s pungent bear hugs, pressed awkwardly into the royal flush of shiny playing cards that spanned her bosom. “I’m so happy to see you, so happy,” she said. “Thank God, thank God.”
“It’s okay now, it’s all over.” I hugged her back as hard as I could. I’d gotten home too late last night to stop in and I wasn’t up to seeing my mother then anyway. I’d intended to deal with her after a solid night’s sleep, but Grady had made other plans. Without my permission.
“Come in,” Hattie said, then stepped back and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “Come in, both of you. She’s in her room.”
“How is she?”
“You’ll see soon enough.” Hattie closed the apartment door and shot Grady a look so knowing it made me laugh.
“Have you two been conspiring?”
She smiled. “Me and Grady are old friends, by now.”
He nodded. “We grew up not ten miles apart, did you know that, Bennie? Hattie grew up near the Georgia border, and I was born in Murphy, right over the line.”
Hattie tugged at my arm. “We had ourselves a nice long talk on the telephone. Now let’s go see your momma. She’s awake.”
Grady took my other arm. “Come on, Bennie. I want to meet her.”
I let them yank me along only reluctantly. “Do we have to do this now? What do I say to her? Sorry I sent you to—”
“Say what comes natural,” Hattie said. Bear trotted at the heels of her scruffy bedroom slippers as she and Grady tugged me through the living room. “Did you know your momma knew all about Mark’s murder?”
“She did?”
“Said you told her all about it, at night.” We reached my mother’s door, which was slightly ajar, and Hattie pressed it open.
“My God,” I heard myself say, the sight was so unexpected.
A soft morning breeze blew through the open screen, billowing through the curtains. The room was bright and smelled fresh, only faintly floral. My mother sat in a chair by the bed, still as calm water, reading a newspaper. JOINT VENTURE, said the headline above photos of Renee and Eve. My mother’s hair had been combed into neat waves, and she wore slacks and a pressed white blouse. She seemed not to see me standing at the threshold in wonder.
“Is she … cured?” I whispered.
“No, but she’s gettin’ there,” Hattie said softly. “Carmella, honey,” she called, “see who’s come home.”
My mother looked up from the paper and her brown eyes opened slightly in surprise. “Benedetta.”
Her voice struck a chord, buried deep. No one but my mother called me Benedetta, and I felt the sound reverberating inside me. Resonating within my chest. Calling me to dinner, or from play. To climb onto her lap. Benedetta.
“Benedetta, you’re free,” she said.
My eyes stung. A lump appeared in my throat. My heart lifted. She didn’t know how right she was, and neither did I.
Until now.
41
Mahogany bookshelves stocked with Supreme Court reporters surrounded the huge, still office. His desk was an English lowboy, bare except for a Waterford cup that held a flock of white quills. Three telephones sat on the various polished surfaces, but they hadn’t rung all morning. There wasn’t a computer in sight, but there was a box of Godiva chocolates on the coffee table. Next to a kitten.
“She’s a cute one,” Grun said. We sat together on a couch covered with navy damask.
“And she’s already litter trained.” I didn’t mention she preferred legal briefs. I was pushing my luck as it was.
“She reminds me of my Tiger. She has a similar color fur.”
“I thought Tiger was striped.”
“Underneath the stripes, she was tan. Brownish.”
“Well, she’s yours, if you want her. She needs a home now that her owner’s on … vacation.” I didn’t tell him Sam was in rehab, since everyone at the firm thought he was at Disney World, switching cartoon allegiances.
“Do you think she likes me?” He tickled Jamie 17 with a wrinkled index finger, but she ignored him in favor of a black Mont Blanc.
“Of course she does. How could she not?”
“You didn’t,” he said, more than a bit resentfully.
“I told you, that was before I knew you.” We had spent the morning together, with me confessing my ruse as Linda Frost and The Great and Powerful forgiving me, at least after I swore to reimburse the firm for the hooker suit and tuna fish.
“I don’t think she likes me. She doesn’t pay me any attention.”
“She will in time.”
“I’m eighty-two, dear. I don’t have much time.”
“Stop that.” I didn’t want to think about it. I’d had enough death for a lifetime.
Grun watched Jamie 17 flop over on the table and stretch one furry paw to the pen. “She certainly is a playful gal. Tiger was, too. She was this little when we got her.” He held his hands six inches apart. “She liked cream cheese.”
“I remember, you told me.”
“What does this kitten like?”
“Uh, Snickers and Diet Coke?”
“You’re joking.”
“Of course.” Eeek. “She likes salmon. Only the best for this baby.”
He paused. “I must say, I didn’t know what to make of it when I saw your note.” He meant the one I’d left him when he fell asleep on me in the conference room. It lay crinkled on the coffee table between us, a single sheet of yellow legal paper on which I’d scribbled three large letters: I O U.
“Well, I did owe you. I owed you an apology and a kitten. Now you got both.”
“I don’t remember the apology. Perhaps you could you say it again. I’m quite old and my memory fails.” He was smiling slyly.
“You remember, Mr. Grun.”
“Perhaps I didn’t hear it. My hearing, particularly in my right ear—”
“All right, already. I’m sorry I thought you were a tyrranical bastard.”
“I accept your apology.” He tickled Jamie 17, and she batted at him with a floppy paw. He tickled again, she batted again, and she finally abandoned the pen for one of the most prominent lawyers of his day.
“See, she likes you, Mr. Grun. You have to take her. She has no place else to go.”
“Why cant you keep her?”
“My dog doesn’t like her. She’s jealous.” Another lie, and it had come so easily. Practice makes perfect. “This cat has no home. She needs you.”
“Well. I suppose I’ll take her.”
“Wonderful!” I said, only partly meaning it. We both watched the cat, me for the last time, but I didn’t want to think about that. Maybe I could visit her. In Boca. In December.
“Bennie,” he said, “where will you practice now? There’s a place for you here at Grun. I’d arrange for you to have a fine office near this one. I have many important clients that need attention and, considering your years of experience, your partnership draw would be considerable.”
It gave me pause. A Gold Coast office? A huge paycheck? Blue chip clients and Ivy League associates?
It was a no-brainer. “No thanks, sir. I’m starting another firm.”
“Understood.” He nodded, smiling, as he stroked Jamie 17’s back. “You say the kitten has no name?”
“None at all.”
“A cat should have a name.”
“Why? It’s only a cat.”
“I’m shocked to hear you say that!”
“It’s not a real pet, like a dog. I bet you could even leave it in a car, all day long.”
“Never! Cats are intelligent creatures, sensitive creatures!”
“Sorry.” We both looked at Jamie 17, who had waltzed over to the box of chocolates and was sniffing at it delicately. Her cat brain was telling her it was Snickers, but it was only Godiva. “So what do you want to name her, Mr. Grun?”
“I confess, I don’t know any good names.”
I acted like I was thinking hard. “How about Jamie 17?”
“That’s a horrid name.”
“Sorry.”
“Horrid.” He wrinkled his wrinkled nose.
“Gotcha.”
“I could name her Tiger, like my other.”
“No. It’s stupid to name all your cats the same thing.”
“Quite right. I stand corrected.” He nodded. “Her name, it should suit her.” He paused. “I have the perfect one.”
“What?”
“Think. She’s a brown cat. What else is brown?”
Shit? “I give up.”
“I’ll give you a hint. We both adore it.”
“Coffee?”
“No, use your head.”
He looked at me, I looked at him.
And we smiled at the same moment.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
They tell me my acknowledgments are too long and mushy, but I think a thank-you is supposed to be long and mushy. In fact, I avoid people whose thank-yous aren’t long or mushy enough. Life is short. Say thanks. And this is my chance.