But when he turned out the lights at night, there was no one else around. No one but his spoiled and totally indifferent cat. What kind of a life was that for a grown man?
He would be the first to admit that when it came to socializing, he wasn’t exactly gifted. More like the opposite of gifted, whatever that would be. Warmth impaired? Fraternizationally challenged? It wasn’t that he didn’t try. He made a real effort. But when all was said and done, other people were a mystery to him. He didn’t get them. And all too often they didn’t get him, either. Which, in a nutshell, was why he was going to bed alone tonight. Again.
He picked up the phone, thinking he would call Christina. But a moment later, he put it down again. What was the point? She probably wasn’t at home, and even if she was, he would end up babbling about work or something. It was pointless. Christina didn’t need him. She was a whirling dervish. In the past few years, while working full-time as a legal assistant, she’d gone to law school, plus been active in her church, the Norwegian Club, and a host of other civic organizations. She had friends all over the city. She didn’t need any lame-o phone calls from him.
Keri? There was definitely something going on there, every time she looked at him. Every time he felt those gorgeous blue eyes burning into his. It had a profound effect on him, one he’d probably best not even think about.
Or was he just being stupid? Sure, she was his client now, but this case wouldn’t last forever. Of course, she was about half his age, but if she didn’t mind, why should he?
What a dolt he was, he thought, as he galumphed off to his bedroom to cash it in for the night. As if she would be interested in him. As if anyone would.
Still, as he turned out the lights and stared, eyes open wide, into the darkness, he had to ask himself—Wouldn’t it be better than this? Wouldn’t anything be better than spending the rest of his life alone in a tiny apartment with a spoiled and—
He felt a furry nuzzling under his chin. Giselle was boring her way into the warm cranny betwixt chest and chin. Which was odd. She didn’t usually do that. She didn’t normally want anything to do with him at night, preferring her own cushioned wicker bed in the kitchen.
What made her come in here today? Did she sense how he was feeling? Did she know what he was thinking?
Don’t be ridiculous, Ben told himself. Next you’ll have her herding sheep or singing like Judy Garland. Still …
The cat snuggled in closer, and at long last, Ben closed his eyes. Someday, he had to take time out from solving other people’s problems and fix his own life. After all, he thought (and these were the last thoughts he had before he drifted away), he didn’t want to spend the entire rest of his life in a small apartment with a spoiled and, well, perhaps not totally indifferent cat.
13
JONES AND PAULA WERE squabbling over a chair.
“C’mon, punkin,” Jones said. “I need to check my e-mails.”
“E-mail, puddin’ pie. The plural doesn’t take an s.” She brushed him back. “I’m on WestLaw. I’m trying to find a precedent for the Dalcanton reversal.”
“But I’m expecting a very important message.”
“From whom? Some cyberbimbo you met in a chat room?” Jones and Paula had first met in an Internet chat room, and everyone in the office knew it.
“It’s about the case, Paula. I sent out several research requests and I need to check for replies.”
“I’m not going to log off till I’m done,” Paula said. “There’s no point in incurring additional charges.”
Jones grabbed her chair and swiveled it around. “I’m telling you, I need that chair!”
“And I’m telling you, no!”
Loving emerged from his office. “What in tarnation is goin’ on out there?”
Jones coughed. “We’re, uh, having a disagreement regarding the, uh, seating arrangements in the exterior office.”
“Are you two geeks squabbling over the computer again? Jeez Louise, I’m gonna have to enroll you two in some twelve-step program for people who can’t pry themselves away from the Internet.”
“I’m trying to finish a report,” Paula said huffily. “Ben said he wants it when he comes in.”
“I’m trying to finish my research,” Jones shot back. “Ben’s going to want to know what I found, too.”
Loving thrust his hands into his pockets. “Did I miss something here? I thought you two were supposed to be madly in love.”
Jones and Paula looked at one another dubiously.
“Whoever heard of people madly in love fussin’ over some silly gray box? You should be interactin’ with each another, not some stupid Web browser.”
“You know, he’s right.” Jones laid his hand gently on Paula’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, sweet’ums.”
“I’m sorry, too. I don’t know what came over me.” She stepped out of her chair and hugged him. “You’re more important than some silly report.”
“And you’re more important than my research. I love you, punkin.”
“I love you, too, puddin’ pie.”
“Good God,” Loving growled. “I’ve created a monster.”
Ben entered the office. Keri Dalcanton was barely a step behind him.
“Staff meeting,” Ben announced, as he passed through the central office. “Conference room one. I want everyone there. Now.”
A few minutes later, the entire staff had gathered in the largest conference room in Ben’s office. He was still unaccustomed to having so much space and relative luxury at his disposal. After years of toiling away in his dive office downtown, these spacious new Two Warren Place digs seemed luxurious. Of course, compared to the jail cell he’d been residing in of late, his old office seemed luxurious.
Christina was the last to arrive. “How’s the jailbird?” she said, smiling. “You’re looking great for a guy who just got out of stir. I think I liked you better in orange, though.”
Ben nodded graciously, but didn’t smile. He couldn’t, not with Keri right beside him. Her situation was too grim, and the possibility that she would be back in orange coveralls herself was all too real.
“As you probably already know,” Ben began, “Keri’s case is active again. The Court of Appeals has sanctioned a new trial. We’re appealing that decision, of course, but I don’t think our chances are good and in the meantime, the trial proceeds. Given the extraordinary circumstances, we’ve been able to keep Keri out of jail on bond, but we can’t be sure that will last.”
Paula shook her head. “This is asinine. She’s already been through this once.”
“But we have no recourse,” Ben said. “We have to get ready. Let’s face it—if the prosecutors fail again, they’ll look like absolute fools. So they’ll be pulling out all the stops to get a conviction.”
“And LaBelle is going to handle the trial himself,” Christina added.
“Which gives us even more to worry about.” Ben turned slightly and saw Keri shrink back into her chair, like a frightened child trying to disappear.
He took her hand and squeezed. “But we’re as good as any prosecutors. We’ve beaten the D.A.’s office before. And we’ll do it again.”
Keri tried to return his confident smile, but not much emerged. Ben could understand that. He only wished he could be half as confident as he sounded. But he knew La-Belle’s reputation—and future political career—would be riding on this case. The eyes of the world would be upon them. The scary truth was, Ben had never had a case in which the prosecutors had shown such a willingness to do anything to get a conviction—or where he had so little to work with.
“The problem is, these charges pending against me, stupid as they are, create a potential conflict of interest. I know some defense attorneys will never represent codefendants because their interests may conflict; imagine the potential conflicts when the defense attorney is the codefendant. Keri has volunteered to waive the conflict; just the same, I can’t try this case if I’m still a potential defendant. We need to get ri
d of the charges against me as soon as possible.
“And we’re going to have to reopen our investigation,” Ben continued. “Last time Keri was charged, we didn’t have to put on a case. This time, we almost certainly will.” He took a thick file folder out of his briefcase. “It’s clear at this point that everything that’s happened is more than just coincidence. Someone is actively trying to frame Keri.”
“And you,” Christina added.
Ben pressed ahead. “We have a couple of possibilities for who could be behind this. Keri thinks some of Joe McNaughton’s buddies on the force may be behind it. She thinks it’s possible McNaughton’s widow, Andrea, may be pulling the strings.”
“Did you see that woman’s eyes in the courtroom? Even before she attacked Keri?” Jones asked. “I saw how she reacted every time Ben spoke on Keri’s behalf. She’s nursing a major grudge.”
“Enough to make her sic some of Joe’s buddies on Keri?” Ben asked.
“Oh yeah. And how much would it take, anyway? We know McNaughton was very popular. He was considered a cop’s cop. He helped train half the guys on the force. She wouldn’t have to do much to set those wheels in motion. A word would be enough. Maybe just a look.”
“That would explain a hell of a lot,” Loving said. “Like how the cops knew to search Ben’s office. How they found that knife so damn fast.”
“Loving,” Ben said finally, “you’re still in touch with some of the boys in black, aren’t you?”
“I know a fair number, yeah.”
“Think you could do a little investigating? See what you can find out about all this?”
“Well, Skipper, I don’t think anyone’s gonna admit that they’re plantin’ evidence to frame you and Keri.”
“I realize that. But you might hear something. Learn something we don’t know.”
“Doubtful.”
“It’s always possible someone will talk.”
Loving inflated his massive chest, then sighed. “I’ll give it the ol’ college try, Skipper. But I’m not holdin’ my breath.”
“That’s all I can ask. Unfortunately, that’s not the only possibility we need to check out. Keri also thinks it’s possible there could be a mob connection.”
Jones shot up out of his chair. “Mob connection? Are you kidding?”
“ ’Fraid not. Apparently Joe McNaughton was investigating Tony Catrona at the time of his murder.”
“Makes sense,” Loving mused. “When you think about it, doesn’t this whole thing look like a mob hit? Puttin’ his body on display and mutilatin’ it. That’s got mob written all over it.”
“Tony Catrona! Mob executions! Jiminy Christmas!” Jones bounced up and down. “How can I say this, Boss? Like—I’m outta here.”
“Sit down, Shaggy. This is no time for faint hearts.”
“Boss, we’re talking about the mob. Those people would as soon blow you away as look at you. I’m not having anything to do with them.”
“I agree,” Paula interjected. “I don’t want my puddin’ pie messing around with any gangland thugs.”
“Pity,” Ben said quietly. “This could’ve been your big chance.”
Jones’s head turned slowly. “Big chance. Meaning?”
Ben shrugged. “Aren’t you the one who’s always telling me you want to do more investigating? Get out in the field?”
“Ye-essss …”
“Well, this is your opportunity. I need another investigator to figure out what all these people are up to.”
“Ben Kincaid!” Paula said. “You should be ashamed of yourself! You’re shamelessly manipulating him. And you ended a sentence with a preposition.”
“It’s a simple mathematical equation, Paula. I’ve got two lines of investigation that need to be pursued immediately. And I’ve only got one investigator. I need Jones to take up the slack. So, Jones—are you in?”
Jones frowned. “I’m in. Just tell me what to do.”
“First, get up to speed on Catrona. Then find out what, if anything, Joe McNaughton had learned about him. Like something that might’ve gotten him rubbed out. But start your research in the usual ways: books, newspapers, Internet. Don’t go anywhere near Catrona without my say-so.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“I mean it, Jones. You report to me every day. I don’t want you taking any unnecessary risks.”
“But you know he will.” Paula folded her arms, furious. “Ben, if anything happens, I’ll never forgive you.”
“Paula, I promise you I won’t let him go up against Catrona or any of his associates. I just—”
“Ben, can I say something?” It was the first time Keri had spoken more than a word since the meeting had begun. It was almost startling, hearing that quiet, scared voice emerge from the folds of hair and clothing. “I have a brother.”
“I know. Kirk. Met him in the courtroom.”
“Yes. But what you don’t know is—” She stared down at her hands. “What you don’t know is that he’s very hotheaded. I mean—sometimes—he just loses control. Especially when it comes to me.”
Ben smiled. “It’s only natural for him to be protective of his sister.”
“There’s more. He’s—very religious. And he’s disappeared. I haven’t seen him for months. But when he finds out I’m being threatened again, I’m afraid he might do something … crazy.”
Oh great, Ben thought. The only thing this case lacked was some whacked-out religious zealot. And now they had it. “We’ll try to find him, Keri.”
“Thanks.” Keri sank back into her chair.
“Christina,” Ben continued, “our new legal eagle, will be handling most of the law-related rigmarole. I can promise you the D.A.’s office will be pressing hard, on both cases. They’ve got a big staff over there, and they’ll try to use that to their advantage. They’ll be slinging motions and briefs, trying to keep us scrambling so we won’t have time to investigate.” He glanced her way. “But you’re not going to let that happen.”
“You bet your sweet bippy I’m not.”
“And I have a few … miscellaneous matters I want to investigate. So, if there’s nothing else—”
“Excuse me, den mother,” Christina cut in, “but aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Like …?”
“Like, you’re also a defendant, remember? You can’t be investigating. It will look self-serving, like you’re just trying to bail yourself out. Plus you’ve had way too much publicity. Anybody and everybody related to this case will recognize your face. No one’s going to talk to you.”
“That may be true, but I—”
“No buts about it, Danger Boy. Like it or not, you’ll have to maintain a low profile. You can’t run this case. Which means I will.”
“Now, Christina, I—”
“Ben, this is the way it has to be and you know it. You can’t be running all over town quizzing people when you’re a defendant. If for no other reason, the judge might revoke your bail.”
A disturbing possibility. “But I still think—”
“Forget it, Ben. You’re out and I’m in. I’m taking over.”
Ben drew in his chin. “You know, Christina, you should really consider getting some kind of assertiveness training. I hate to see someone with your talents being so mousy and reserved.”
“Hardy-har-har. But you know I’m right.”
“Sadly enough, I do.” He leaned toward Keri. “You’re the client; you get to make the final call. Is this all right with you?”
She hesitated for barely a moment, but it was not so brief that it was not noticed by both Ben and Christina. “Of course, Ben. Whatever you think.”
“I still plan to handle your case at trial,” Ben said. “Unless I’m behind bars at the time.”
“I’m glad.” She took his hand and squeezed it. She did not let go.
“That’s it,” Ben said. “Now get to work. We don’t have much time. The second any of you turn anything up, I want to hear about it.�
��
After the rest of them departed, Ben drew closer to Keri. Their hands were still linked.
“I’m sure this is all traumatic for you, Keri, and I’m sorry about that. But I want you to know that we’re going to do everything possible to help you.”
“But Ben—” Her eyes glistened. “You know I never had much money. And what I did have ran out a long time ago.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he reassured her. “We’ll figure something out. For the moment, we need to concentrate on getting you acquitted. Again.”
She nodded, barely perceptibly. Ben could see she was trying to be brave, but the strain was too much. Tears came unbidden, tumbling forth from those vivid blue eyes.
“Ben … I’m so scared.”
“I know you are.”
“Please—hold me.”
Ben drew her in and hugged her tight. The smell of her hair, her skin, overwhelmed him. There was no denying that he found her extremely attractive. Who wouldn’t? But it wouldn’t be right, not now, not when she was scared and vulnerable. Not while she was still his client.
But when she was so close, when her warm soft body pressed against his, it was impossible not to think about it.
“Don’t let go,” she whispered. “Please. Don’t ever let go.”
And had it been left entirely up to Ben, he never would have.
14
WHEN LOVING PARKED HIS pickup in the back lot behind Scene of the Crime, he saw two middle-aged men leaning against a lamppost, arms linked around one another’s shoulders, obviously experiencing the elevated state of bliss denied to those who choose to remain sober all their lives. One of them was singing an Irish ditty, not especially well, and the other was sloshing lager all over his spiffy blue sport shirt. Both were mercifully ignorant of the existence of a world beyond themselves.
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