Dead Ringer

by Lisa Scottoline

  “What happened with the cops? And before that, at the St. Amiens? But first, drink.”

  So Bennie filled him in while she got herself a glass of water, took a gulp between sentences, then eased down her tile wall and sat on the floor to finish the story, cross-legged and talking on the phone like a kid in high school. It was a chummy feeling, trading sentences with David, answering his questions and hearing his views, there in the stillness of her cozy kitchen, with only Bear as a witness.

  By the end of the conversation, her breathing had returned to normal and her clothes felt dry. She was feeling so good and calm inside. It had been such a long time since she’d had a man in her life that even one on a cell phone could give comfort. It had been a long time since she’d even been in the company of a man. Heard a deeper voice in her ear. Considered a different way of looking at the world. Had someone agree with her, and more important, disagree.

  “David?” she blurted out, right when he was in the middle of a sentence.

  “Yes?”

  But she couldn’t say more. She didn’t know what she wanted to say. Okay, maybe she did. She just didn’t know how to say it.

  “What?” he asked, waiting.

  She let it pass. “Where are you now?”

  “Watching your house. From the front now.”

  “What’s going on out there?”

  “It’s dark out, and people are finishing dinner.” David’s voice sounded calm, steady, and unhurried. Unworried. If he’d been wondering what she was going to say, he wasn’t wondering anymore. “An old man near you just put his trash out, only half a bag. He did a very neat job with his newspapers, all folded. Little girls who live on your side of the street are jumping on the bed, on the second floor, in the front room. There’s a poster on their wall of Britney Spears. And your neighbor was washing her dishes by hand, in her kitchen in the back. Her window is open, over the sink. If you’re in the kitchen, you should be able to hear her, if she’s still at it. Is she?”

  Bennie listened and heard it faintly. The clinking of silverware. A sweetly domestic sound she remembered from her childhood. Her mother had never had a dishwasher. Bennie leaned her head back against the base cabinet and closed her eyes. Missing her mother, and listening. She hadn’t heard that small sound in years. She was never home at this hour. She missed the sound and savored it, both at the same time, holding the thickness in her throat, like a sliver of milk chocolate you knew would melt away too soon, making it all the more precious. She missed her mother so much; she was with her right now. It was a paradox Bennie had never understood until this minute.

  “And your neighbor on the other side is practicing his guitar, in front of the window. He’s pretty good. It’s classical, but it’s slow. Nice. Can you hear that, too?”

  Bennie didn’t know if she could; she just wanted him to go on. She kept her eyes closed, letting the wetness slip from beneath her lids. It would do her good, wash the city soot out of her eyes.

  “People are walking their dogs. Somebody has a yellow lab out here, with a red bandanna. I hate dogs in clothes. God meant dogs to be naked. Hey, doesn’t Bear have to go out?”

  “Oh, Jeez. I forgot.” Bennie wiped her eyes and sat straight up, guilted out of her reverie. Bear snoozed curled up against her foot. He hadn’t even complained. The dog was a saint. “I can’t believe I forgot about him.”

  “You had a lot on your mind.”

  “I have to take him out now.”

  “Okay, relax. I’ll make sure you’re okay. Take the phone with you.”

  Bennie scrambled to her feet. “You don’t mind?”

  “Not at all. This is why I make the big bucks.”

  “Wise ass.” She padded back into the living room and slipped into her shoes. Bear followed, realizing what was going on, and began to dance at her feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood. She went to the back of the door where his leash hung on the knob and slid it off, along with the pooper scooper from the entrance hall. “Hold on, David,” she said, putting the phone down while she leashed the excitable dog, since it couldn’t be accomplished with one hand, then retrieved the phone. “I’m back.”

  “Okay, come on out.”

  “Roger wilco.” Bennie grabbed her keys and left the house. The night was cool, dark, and quiet, and revived her slightly. Even if it hadn’t, Bear would have, by tugging her instantly up the street to his favorite tree, where he squatted like a girl dog. “Cute, huh? I have no idea why he does this.”

  “He needs a father, obviously.”

  Bennie got a little tingle. Definitely a flirty thing to say. She scanned the street for David but didn’t see him anywhere. “Where are you?”

  “I see you.”

  “I don’t see you.”

  “Damn, I’m good.”

  “Gimme a clue. You in disguise? Got the red horns on?”

  “Are you two finished yet? Ole Bear seems to be doing a lot of sniffing.”

  “He’s stalling. He owes me number two.”

  “Thanks for sharing.”

  Bennie walked Bear up to the next tree, looking around. No David and no Alice. Only two streetlights illuminated the street at either end, and both were far from her house. The street was bathed in darkness. She heard some shouting in the distance, then a bottle breaking. City noises. Still, it was a little creepy. No one was on the street.

  “Don’t worry, I’m here.”

  Bennie smiled in the darkness. “How did you know I was worried?”

  “I just did.” His voice remained soft and calm, coming out of nowhere. If God talked on the cell, it would sound like this.

  “Wait, we have ignition.” Bear did his business, and Bennie reached for her scooper, scooped his poop expertly, and dropped it in the sewer on the way to the house. “I think we’re done.”

  “Head home now, keep walking. You’re almost at your next-door neighbor’s house, right?”

  “Right.”

  “There’s a trash bag there, a white Hefty kitchen bag, just like the kind you use. It looks like new. Do you see it?”

  Bennie spotted the white trash bag, catching what little light there was in the dark. “I guess they put out their trash.”

  “No, you did. Walk past it.”

  “Okay,” Bennie said, mystified. “How do you know what kind of kitchen bags I use?”

  “The other night, remember? I noticed. Now go inside your house, get your trash, and come back out with Bear and switch bags.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s trash day. And that white bag has presents for you.”

  “Presents?”

  “Make the switch quickly. Pretend you forgot something you had to throw out. Can you do that?”

  “Watch.” Bennie reached her front door, unlocked it, and went inside, locking the door. Then she went to the kitchen with her puzzled retriever, grabbed her white kitchen bag from under the sink, unlocked the door, and went outside with it to the trash bag. Bear was loving the new game, wagging his tail. “Impressed yet? Bear is.”

  “Very.”

  “Can I handle a trash bag or what?” She picked up the new trash bag and set the old one down in its place, then hurried back inside with Bear, who began jumping up on her as soon as she locked the door. Whatever was in there, he wanted it. “What’s in this bag, David?”

  “Open it.”

  Bennie set it down on the coffee table and opened the yellow tape, instantly releasing the truly gourmet smell of oregano and processed meats. She looked inside. Three wrapped hoagies leaked olive oil through their white paper, and they rested on top of loose red apples, huge Jaffa oranges, and a plastic bag of green grapes. There was even a sealed container of cole slaw and a jar of dill pickle chips. “Wow!”

  “Dessert’s on the bottom.”

  “Really?” She dug deeper to a cellophane pack of Oreos, a bag of Pepperidge Farm chocolate chips, a megasize Snickers bar, a half gallon of milk, and a few cans of Coke. It was Thanksgiving in a bag,
and Bennie hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she saw it. “This is amazing! Where did you get all this stuff?”

  “The deli, when you were inside St. Amien’s.”

  “When did you put it outside?”

  “I didn’t, I paid a little kid to do it. I’m taking no chances.”

  “This is great!” Bennie felt overwhelmed. It was such a thoughtful thing to do, and somehow so sexy. What do women want? Someone else to go food shopping. “Thank you so much.”

  “There’s Milk-Bones for the boy, too. So. You got dinner, and you’re safe inside. Don’t answer the door, not for anything or anybody. If the doorbell rings, call 911 right away. Don’t even worry if it’s a false alarm, call them anyway. Then call me.”

  “Where will you be?”

  “I’ll stay here awhile, and when I’m sure it’s okay, I’ll go home. I want you to eat well, go to sleep, safe until the morning. Call me when you get up, and we’ll start over.”

  Bennie swallowed. So that was it? Okay, of course that was it. Right? They hardly knew each other. What did she think was going to happen? “David, what’s going to happen?”

  “You’re going to get through this. We’re going to catch Alice. And it will all be over.”

  “And then?”

  “I’ll come over and you’ll make me coffee. And I’ll stay. If you want.”

  Bennie felt her toes curl. “I think I want. I mean, I definitely want.”

  “Hold that thought. And tell me good night.”

  “Good night, David,” Bennie said, with more regret than she wanted to admit.

  30

  Bennie felt refreshed and energized when she got off the elevator on her floor. She’d slept like a baby, she’d eaten a provolone hoagie for breakfast, and she was a little in love with her surveillance, who had ensured her safety all the way into work.

  She strode through the reception area in a crisp un-Bennie-like suit of pressed white linen. She’d slicked her blond hair into a neat French twist and she’d even smeared on pink lip gloss and brownish eyeliner. She carried her purse, her briefcase, and a box of Krispy Kremes. She was feeling excellent, especially for a murder target. In life, you have to take the bad with the good.

  “What’s up with you, girl?” Marshall asked with a smile, getting up slowly from behind the reception desk, in a bright yellow maternity dress. At her size, it looked roughly like the sun rising at dawn.

  “Marshall, are you feeling okay?” she asked, vaguely alarmed. I mean, you’re a planet.

  “I’m fine. The doctor says everything is okay, and I should keep coming to work, that the activity is good for me and the baby. Here’s your mail and a hand delivery from Sam.” Marshall handed Bennie a huge stack of messages and mail. “Enough about me, let’s talk about you. What are you so happy about? Are you wearing makeup?”

  “It’s my disguise. I’m back in control of my life, Marshall. Ain’t nobody happy if Mama ain’t happy.”

  “Huh?”

  “You never heard that? I’m fighting back, and finally winning.” Bennie skipped through the phone messages, reading them aloud. “Sam, Julien, reporter, reporter, CoreMed—whoever that is—and DiNunzio, good. What’s new with DiNunzio?”

  “She thinks she’ll finish today, at the library in Washington. She’s coming home a day early, on an afternoon train.”

  “Good.” Bennie looked at the last message. “Mort Abrams,” she said, and did a double take. “Abrams? That’s very exciting. They’re all very exciting. And it’s time to celebrate.” She touched Marshall on the shoulder. “Come into my office. We’re having a little party.”

  “We are?”

  “Yep.” Bennie charged ahead, bearing her tray of hot glazed doughnuts, and she knew the smell would waft through the office and work its Krispy Kreme magic. “Carrier! Murphy! Breakfast in my office! I’ve been cooking all morning!”

  “Huh? What?” Heads popped out of their offices, and the associates hurried after Bennie and Marshall. They all piled in, making hot coffee and passing around steamy doughnuts stuck to plates of legal pads. In no time, fresh coffee and hot pastry scented the room and they all gathered around the conference table with hot mugs and sugar highs.

  Bennie raised her mug of coffee. “A toast to you, ladies. To your faith and hard work, and to DiNunzio, who will be home tonight! Our wonderful news is that Rosato & Associates is back in business! Julien St. Amien intends to continue the class action!”

  “Yes!” Carrier said, setting down her coffee to throw her arms into the air, signaling a touchdown. She had on her favorite denim smock, with a hot pink T-shirt that matched her hair. “That’s so great!”

  “Yeah!” Murphy hollered beside her. She cut her usual curvy figure in a tan jersey that skimmed her skinny knees, and her hair swung long and free. She butter-churned her way across the room, shaking her cute tan butt. “Awesome!”

  “Go, us!” Marshall clapped from her seat at the table, and Bennie raised a hand.

  “Marshall, please don’t explode,” she said, and everyone laughed, applauding and boogying. When they finally settled down, Bennie filled in the details, including her trip to see the suspect at the Roundhouse and Julien’s decision to become a solo practitioner. Somehow Julien was what they wanted to talk about first. “I’m having him over, so you can show him what you do and talk him out of wanting to do it.”

  “We can’t do that,” Carrier said, munching a doughnut. “We love it too much here. Every friggin’ minute.”

  Murphy laughed. “Yeah. We can’t get enough, now that the long distance is back on.”

  Bennie smiled, despite herself, and Marshall said, “Can I go back to work, Bennie? Somebody has to.”

  “Sure, thanks. You gonna be okay to walk there? You need a hand?”

  “More like a chairlift,” Marshall mumbled as she waddled out of the office.

  Bennie clapped her hands together. “Okay, moving right along, we do have other business to attend to this morning. The cops have a suspect in Robert’s murder, which I think is totally bogus.”

  “I have a question,” Murphy said, her lovely face turning grave. “What happened to you last night, Bennie? I saw you on TV, bitching out the reporters.”

  “I’m back on the sauce.”

  Murphy raised a perfectly groomed brow. “This could be the only explanation for your eyeliner.”

  “A for effort?”

  “No. Anything more from Alice? I got you a hearing for next week.”

  “I’ll take it. Meantime, no more break-ins, lots of new locks, and David surveilled the street last night and this morning.”

  “That working out okay with him?”

  “Good as can be expected,” Bennie answered. She suppressed: He food-shopped for me and I think I’m in lust. The kids didn’t have to know everything about Mommy and Daddy.

  “Boss,” Carrier broke in, barely able to contain herself. “I did some research last night on Linette.”

  “You did?” Bennie asked, surprised. It was what she had been going to call the associate about before David stopped her. “What did you learn?”

  “I found out he lives in a town house in Society Hill, on Delancey. I have the address in my office. It’s one of those huge ones.”

  “Really.” It would have been Bennie’s first question last night. Perhaps the world could turn without her. “Good for you, Carrier.”

  “But wait, there’s more. What we want to know is what Linette was doing the night of the murder, assuming he didn’t hire anyone to kill Robert.” Carrier barely took a breath before answering her own question. “Dinner ended before nine, according to Abrams, and at that hour there are two basic possibilities for most lawyers in America. Back to the office, or give it up and go home.”

  Bennie smiled.

  “Now. We know that Linette didn’t go back to the office, because of what Murphy learned from the sign-in log at his building. So let’s give this jerk the benefit of the doubt and say that h
e intended to go back to the office, but changed his mind and went home instead.” Carrier’s voice took on a logical cadence. “Now, to get to his house from the Palm, it’s about ten blocks. We know he didn’t have a car, Abrams told us that. That means Linette could walk, go by bus, or take a cab.”

  Bennie nodded. “Door number three, the cab. He’s too self-important to take a bus, much less walk.”

  “I thought so, too.” Carrier held up a finger, her china blue eyes keeping a secret. “Now, we know that he didn’t go back to the office. So we need to eliminate the possibility that he went home.”

  “How do we do that?”

  “We do what I did. First question. What is the way that most lawyers, especially ones with major dough, get a cab at that hour?”

  “They call a radio cab, Penn Call. We did it at Grun.”

  “Right, and we did it at Stalling and Webb, too. It’s easiest. They come right away. You charge it to the firm, you sign a receipt for the fare and the tip. It costs nothing and it’s instant. So I made a basic assumption, that if Linette changed his mind about going to work, he would have taken a Penn Call cab home. You with me?”

  “I don’t know.” Bennie was dubious. “It’s not that hard to get a cab at a hotel like the Hyatt, where the Palm is.”

  “True, but Abrams would have seen Linette grab a cab there, especially because he had to wait for the valet to get his car. Abrams didn’t say he had seen Linette do that. So it’s logical to assume that if Linette got a cab, it wasn’t at the Palm.”

  “Okay,” Bennie said. The reasoning held up.

  “So let’s say Linette walks toward his office and then decides to go home. There are so few cabs in this city, it’s not New York, and I think he’d save himself the hassle and do what the rich lawyers do. Phone Penn Call.” Carrier paused. “So I called Penn Call, pretending to be Linette’s secretary. I told them that he’d left his Montblanc pen in the cab last night, and asked if they knew which cab he took from the Palm to his house.”

  Bennie smiled. “Cute.”