Dead Ringer

by Lisa Scottoline

  “Well, congratulations to both of us.” Marshall smiled, with relief she let Bennie see for the first time.

  “You were worried. I don’t blame you. I’m just happy you don’t have to worry anymore, and I’m going to miss you.” Bennie ignored the silly lump in her throat. “When this baby comes, do whatever you want. Stay home if you want to. I’ll pay you for six months, full benefits and all. You have to be free to do what your heart says.”

  Marshall looked at her as if she were nuts.

  “I read it somewhere.”

  “You’re assuming this baby is ever coming out.”

  “It’s gotta come out, Marshall. How’s it gonna go to law school?”

  “Ha!” Marshall said. She set down the messages and wandered out, her hand on her lower back, and Bennie winced just from looking at her.

  “I keep telling you, I’ll come to the desk and get the messages.”

  “Walking is good for me!” Marshall called back as Bennie picked up the first message from her desk. Mr. Cho, of Cho & Co. He could be her new favorite client. She suppressed a smile and punched in the number.

  Bennie was bleary-eyed by four o’clock, when there was a very loud knock on her door. In the threshold stood Murphy and Carrier, looking very pleased with themselves. Bennie set down the telephone receiver. “I hope you’re here to tell me you’ve been working like dogs. Because we got so much work it’s not even funny.”

  “We heard. But we’ve been doing something I think you’d approve of, very much,” Murphy said.

  “Very much.” Carrier nodded. “We totally stayed away from Linette because he could be dangerous and a killer and repulsive, like you said.”

  Bennie eyed them. “So where have you been?”

  “Lunch,” Murphy answered. “A really long, really late lunch. But not with Linette. We had a better idea.”

  “What did you do and why didn’t you ask me first?”

  “I went to lunch with Ross, an associate from Linette’s office, and I didn’t clear it with you because there was no risk or weirdness.”

  “Also you would have said no,” Carrier added, and Bennie felt a tension she couldn’t explain.

  “Carrier, where were you while she was having lunch with this Ross?”

  “We worked as a team, and I was backup. I sat at the next table, incognito, in case she got into any trouble.”

  “As I was saying, Ross Pacine is an associate who works for Linette.” Murphy eased into a chair opposite Bennie, and Carrier into the chair next to her. “I went over to Linette’s to drop off some papers—”

  “What papers?”

  “An extra copy of our complaint, which I know is bogus, but it gave Ross the chance to ask me out. Which he did. So I said how about a late lunch instead, and he said sure. And we went to lunch and he had a few Amstels and he dished.” Murphy licked her glossy lips. “Linette is having an affair with the new receptionist, the one you call Miss Texas. He bought her a love shack at the Water’s Edge, down on Front Street. Near his house.”

  “Ross knows this for sure?” Bennie asked.

  “Everybody in the office knows it for sure. But Linette didn’t go see Miss Texas on Tuesday, the night Robert was killed.”

  “You asked him that? Murphy, this could be dangerous.”

  “Of course I didn’t ask, but I know just the same. Because Miss Texas had a breast job on Tuesday morning, paid for by Linette. I’m guessing she wasn’t in the mood for love that night.” Murphy folded her arms. “So where was Linette on the night of the murder? He wasn’t anywhere he was supposed to be, and he wasn’t even where he wasn’t supposed to be.”

  “I thought he could have another mistress,” Carrier interjected.

  “Ross said he doesn’t, Miss Texas would kill him.” Murphy raised an auburn eyebrow. “We think it’s time for you to talk to Linette. Ask him what he did Tuesday night, in some casual way, and see if he lies to you. Then Murphy and I can follow up.”

  “Follow up?” Bennie repeated. “You two?”

  Carrier was nodding eagerly. “And you know what else we found out? Ross says that Linette has a big goon who hangs around him from the old days, when he did criminal defense. This guy supposedly does all sorts of sleazy jobs for Linette, and I was thinking maybe Linette hired him to kill Robert. His name is Luke Deal.”

  Oh, no. Bennie’s mouth went dry. “Luke Deal was tried for a brutal double murder ten years ago, in Bridesburg. The case made all the papers. Linette was his lawyer, and he got him off on a technicality, by suppressing his confession.”

  Carrier’s face lit up “That’s incredible! Maybe Deal’s the one! We should definitely follow this up. I’ll research Deal online and find out where he lives.”

  Murphy bubbled with excitement. “What if Linette was with Deal the night Robert was killed? They could have been in it together! I’ll call Ross and see if he wants to meet me for dinner, and afterward I’ll make up some excuse to stop by Linette’s office. I wonder if there’s a way I can slip away from him and sneak into the financial records and see if there are any suspicious payoffs and then—”

  “Are you two nuts?” Bennie shouted, suddenly furious, and the associates looked at her in surprise. “Why do you think you can go running around after murderers!”

  “What are you so mad about, boss?” Carrier asked, confused. “You do it all the time.”

  Murphy frowned. “And why do you have to get so freaked out? We know what we’re doing!”

  “I can take risks like that, but you can’t!” Bennie shot back. Then she heard herself shouting. She was so freaked out. She couldn’t let them get hurt solving this case. It made her realize something. She loved them. Loved them. The thought silenced her, at least for the moment. And the two girls, oblivious, kept chattering away.

  “It only got dangerous when Ross made his move,” Carrier was saying with a smile. “He tried to grab Murphy’s knee under the table. Then I stepped in and saved the day, like Batgirl.”

  Murphy looked askance. “You saved the day? Please. I handled him.”

  “Oh, don’t even start with me! I was the one who dropped my fork and stabbed him in the ankle, accidentally on purpose. That’s why he yelped!”

  “That’s not why! He yelped because I kicked him in the shin. It was nothing my Manolo couldn’t fix.” Murphy wiggled her overpriced designer pump, and Carrier laughed.

  “No way! You needed me!”

  “Who needs Batgirl when she has Blahnik?”

  “Oh, blah blah Blahnik. You did!”

  “Did not!”

  “Did too!” Carrier gave her a playful shove, and Murphy shoved her back, less convincingly.

  “Bennie, she hit me!”

  Bennie let them bicker—her thoughts were going elsewhere. Her smile faded, and a chill came suddenly over her. Because she had realized something else:

  She knew who had killed Robert St. Amien.

  32

  But there was a commotion outside her office, and Bennie and the associates jumped up and went for the door. The associates got there first and collided with a whirlwind of worsted wool, wrapped around a hysterical Vita DiNunzio. She was rushing headlong into Bennie’s office, her short little legs churning in their support hose and black orthopedic shoes, so quickly that Carrier and Murphy reflexively held her back, one on each arm, in her bunchy winter coat.

  “You! You! Benedetta Rosato!” Mrs. DiNunzio was shouting, pointing her arthritic finger at Bennie. Her magnified eyes flared behind her thick glasses, and the wrinkled skin on her face was a streaky red. Only her hair remained unemotional, a perfect swirl of pinkish cotton candy. “My Maria! My Maria! My Maria, she’sa hurt!”

  “Mrs. DiNunzio, hello, and what are you talking about?” Despite her confusion, Bennie extended her hand, but Mrs. DiNunzio took a taloned swipe at it. How had the woman gotten through Marshall? What the hell was going on? “Mrs. DiNunzio, Mary’s on a business trip. She’s in Washington. I’m sure she told you,
she’s was coming home on the train today.”

  “Washington! Washington! Maria is onna train! Onna train onna TV!”

  “What?” Bennie asked, bewildered, and Carrier jumped between them.

  “Turn on the TV, Bennie,” she shouted over the din. “There must be something about Mary on TV.”

  “Maria! Maria!” Mrs. DiNunzio kept shouting, waving her little fists and struggling to get out of the associates’ grasp. “Devil! Witch!”

  Mary. Bennie hurried to the small Sony on her credenza and turned it on. She had wanted to tell the associates about Robert’s killer, but that would have to wait. The TV came on and the screen was showing news of a huge train derailment, with car after car crumpled hideously, lying sideways like a grotesque Jacob’s ladder beside a railroad track. Bennie gasped. “Oh, no. Not Mary.”

  “It’s not Mary, it can’t be!” Murphy said, restraining Mrs. DiNunzio as she pointed to the bottom of the screen. The banner underneath the picture read, Outside Seattle, Washington. Murphy turned to the raving Mrs. DiNunzio. “The train crash isn’t in Washington, D.C. It’s in Washington State! Mrs. DiNunzio, you understand what I’m saying? This isn’t the same Washington! Mary is fine!”

  “Maria! Maria!” Mrs. DiNunzio kept yelling at Bennie. “You no care about my Maria! You only love money! Money!”

  Bennie tried to figure out what had happened. Mrs. DiNunzio had heard the word “Washington” on TV, had seen the wrecked train, and had made the wrong connection. There were no fatalities in the Washington State train wreck anyway. Evidently Mr. DiNunzio hadn’t been around to talk sense to her, and she wouldn’t listen to anybody else. Or even leave her kitchen, except to come here and try to kill Bennie.

  “Mrs. D., Mrs. D.!” Carrier was shouting, holding her other arm. “Mary is fine! That’s not where she is! Mary wasn’t on that train! You can call her cell phone right now! She’ll answer!”

  “She no answer! I call, I call! She no answer! She’sa inna Washington!” Mrs. DiNunzio ranted as Bennie went to her desk for her cell, opened it, and punched in the number for Washington information. She waited for the call to connect to the National Archives and pressed her way through three levels of automated operations until she finally got through to a librarian in the Research Room.

  “Could you page her please?” Bennie said into the phone. “She must have her cell turned off in the library. It’s an emergency.”

  “Devil! Witch! You no care about Mary! You no care about nobody but yourself!”

  In a minute, Mary’s cute little voice came on the line, and Bennie handed the cell phone to her mother, who stopped struggling long enough to put the phone to her gold earring hanging from a stretched-out earlobe, and in the next second, she erupted in joy and relief.

  “Maria! Maria!” Mrs. DiNunzio shouted, with a hiccupy sob that would break even a lawyer’s heart. “Grazie, Dio! Grazie mille! Maria! Maria!” Tears sprang to her eyes and she lapsed into rapid and deliriously happy Italian, while Carrier and Murphy relaxed their grip. “Maria! Maria! Hokay, hokay, Maria! Bye-bye, Maria! Ti amo, Maria! Ti amo!” Mrs. DiNunzio closed the phone and returned it to Bennie with new, wet, and completely adoring eyes.

  “All better, Mrs. D.?” Bennie asked, and Mrs. DiNunzio rushed forward and flew into Bennie’s arms.

  “Benedetta, you save my Maria! You save her life!” The older woman felt soft and warm as a plump hen, and Bennie held her close. “You are angel! Angel, from God! Grazie mille! Grazie mille! Thank you so much, Benedetta!”

  Bennie looked amazedly at the associates, who looked equally surprised. Then she got an idea. There was only one way to make peace with Mrs. DiNunzio, now and forever. “You’re very welcome, Mrs. DiNunzio,” she said warmly, accepting any and all credit.

  Suddenly a terrifying scream came from outside the office, shattering the moment. “Help, Bennie! Help!” The shriek electrified Bennie, who released a shocked Mrs. DiNunzio and bolted for the door, with the associates right behind her.

  Waiting for them in the hallway was a horrifying sight.

  33

  Bennie, help!” Marshall screamed. She was on the floor, doubled over and clutching her pregnant belly. Her pretty features contorted in agony. Tears poured from her eyes. Her skin blanched white as bone. Her forehead shone with perspiration.

  “Marshall!” Bennie ran frantically to her side and knelt on the rug beside her. She wouldn’t let anything happen to Marshall or her baby. She couldn’t. “It’s okay, Marshall, we’re here.”

  “My God it hurts! It hurts so much!” Marshall was gritting her teeth not to scream anymore. “The baby! I was in the bathroom! Something’s wrong!”

  “Carrier, call 911!” Bennie shouted, but Judy had already flipped open her cell phone.

  “I’m on it,” Judy called back as Murphy sprinted for the telephone on the reception desk.

  “I’ll call security!”

  “Then call Marshall’s husband. The number’s on the reception desk, with the emergency numbers.” Bennie squeezed Marshall’s hand to steady her as she grimaced with pain. She was having contractions so severe it made her draw up her knees. Then Bennie saw it. Fresh red blood was flowing down the inside of Marshall’s leg. Jesus, God. What the hell is wrong? “Help is on the way, Marshall. We’re calling 911 right now.”

  “Okay, okay, Marsh,” Mrs. DiNunzio whispered, easing down onto Marshall’s other side and patting her hand with an Old World authority. If the older woman noticed the blood, she didn’t show it, and her features stayed calm and steady. A gold crucifix and tiny gold horn hung on a gold chain that dipped as she bent over. “It’s gonna be okay. Everything gonna be okay.”

  Carrier was repeating their office address into her cell phone. “Please come quick! She was due in two weeks! No, it’s not a normal birth! She’s in pain! She’s screaming! And there’s blood, lots of blood.”

  Jesus. Please. Bennie looked down. Marshall was hemorrhaging freely now, thrashing back and forth in agony. Blood coursed down both legs, staining her dress. Her blood pressure had to be dropping. She could go into shock. “We need to put her feet up! We need something for under her feet!”

  “Marsh, it’sa okay, all okay.” Mrs. DiNunzio released Marshall’s hand, took off her brown wool car coat, and kneaded it into a bunchy ball, then tucked it under Marshall’s feet. “Your baby gonna be fine, Marsh, you see.”

  Thank God. Bennie couldn’t let Marshall die. She couldn’t let her baby die. They needed an extra hand. David. He’d be good in an emergency. She lunged for her cell phone, dropped forgotten on the rug, then flipped the phone open, hit the speed dial, and David picked up.

  “David, come now! It’s Marshall! We need help!” Bennie shouted just as Murphy and a young security guard burst into the office with a white plastic first-aid kit bearing a red cross.

  “Holy shit!” the employee said at the sight of the bloodstain spreading on Marshall’s dress.

  “Carrier, I wanna talk to 911!” Bennie hollered, closing her cell phone and taking Judy’s when she rushed it to her. “Help me, would you?” she yelled into the phone. “Tell me what to do, for God’s sake! We put her feet up already. There has to be something we can do. This woman is not going to die in my arms!”

  “Whom am I speaking with, please? Ms. Carrier?” the dispatcher asked, with so much attitude that Bennie wanted to strangle her.

  “You’re speaking to me now!” Bennie shouted, and she handed the phone back to Carrier when David bounded into the room, with two uniformed paramedics hustling in with a stainless-steel stretcher and a large black duffel bag.

  “Found these guys outside,” David said quickly, going to Bennie’s side. His expression only momentarily betrayed the shock he had to be feeling at the sight of Marshall. Mrs. DiNunzio rose and edged away, praying to herself. The paramedics took over, sprinting to Marshall, unpacking their duffle, and moving expertly around her.

  “Miss, we’re here and we’re gonna take care of you,” one para
medic soothed. “What’s your name?” he asked, and when Marshall managed to cry out her name, the paramedic didn’t bother trying to make further conversation. He located a vein in the crook of her arm and put in an IV shunt while the other paramedic pulled a plastic oxygen mask from the duffel and tore off the sterile plastic encasing it, then threaded it to the tank.

  “Please lie still, miss,” the second one said, his tone controlled as he positioned the plastic oxygen mask over Marshall’s nose and slipped green elastic straps behind her head. Then he shifted over to unfold the stretcher and unbuckle bright orange restraints. “We’re going right to the hospital with you. No stops for pizza, so don’t even ask.”

  “Which hospital are we going to?” Murphy called from the phone on the reception. “We need to tell her husband.”

  “University of Penn,” the second paramedic answered, nestling the small green oxygen tank next to Marshall on the stretcher.

  It was all happening so fast that in the next second the paramedics were counting “one, two, three,” lifting Marshall onto the stretcher, strapping her to it, getting her moving with oxygen, and shouting to Carrier to grab their “first-in bag” and to Bennie to hold the saline IV up high. They all hustled out of the office together with the stretcher, with David holding one end next to Bennie, and rushed into the hallway and out to the reception area. The security guard scurried ahead to the elevator bank and hit the down button, and when the cab came, Murphy held it open.

  “Okay, take it easy,” a paramedic ordered as the men angled the stretcher into the cab and David hit the button for the lobby floor. Carrier hurried inside after Bennie, who nodded to Murphy.

  “Murph, you stay with my girl Mrs. DiNunzio. Make sure she gets home okay.”

  “Sure,” Murphy said, biting her lip. “See you later, Marshall!” she called out as she slipped an arm around the little woman and the doors slid closed.

  It was scary-quiet in the elevator, and Bennie eyed the deep furrow of David’s forehead. She flashed on the newspaper article, back on her desk. Had he been here before? Trying to save a life? Failing? The elevator doors slid open onto two jumpsuited building employees, who cleared an aisle. The paramedics rushed the stretcher to the back of a waiting red truck that read PHILADELPHIA FIRE RESCUE, its backdoors wide open, and on another “one, two, three” count, the paramedics slid the stretcher inside the back of the truck.