Courting Trouble raa-9

by Lisa Scottoline

  But Judy looked up, the map in her hand falling in jointed sections. “I’m not sure this is about you anymore,” she said, her face grave under her exaggerated makeup. “Beth Dietz’s house in Powelton Village is also circled here, and there’s a notation on a circle in the middle of Fifteenth Street. It reads, ‘Beth eats lunch here.’”

  “What do you mean?” Anne went over to the bed, where Judy was holding up a photo of the Dietzes leaving the courthouse after a pretrial motion.

  “There’s lots of photos here of Beth. Even one from a website that helps people find their high school classmates. He must have researched her and gone in under a fake name.”

  “I know that website,” Anne said, scanning the newspaper photos. “You’re right. There are almost as many of Beth Dietz as of me, and he used that site to research me, too.”

  Judy was about to set a photo down on the bed when she stopped in mid-arc. “Oh my God, look at this.” She picked up another photo of Beth Dietz and showed it to everyone. This one had a red heart drawn around her face.

  Anne froze. She had forgotten until this minute. “He used to do that to my pictures.”

  Judy turned. “What’s going on, Anne? Is he in love with Beth now that you’re dead? It looks like he’s switching over or something.”

  “Erotomanics do transfer their obsession.” Anne felt a shudder start at the base of her spine, then inch up. “If he thinks he killed me, he may be letting me go. Maybe he’s going to start stalking Beth Dietz now.”

  “So he’s in love with her.”

  Anne nodded. “Yes, but that’s not the nature of de Clérambault’s. It’s the reverse, remember? What’s happening now is that Kevin is an erotomanic, so he believes that Beth Dietz is in love with him.”

  “But she’s married,” Judy said, puzzled, and Anne tried to explain the inexplicable.

  “No matter, he’s delusional. No reality destroys the delusion, except for a restraining order. And we know the Dietzes don’t have the best marriage in the world. Maybe Kevin knows that, too. He watched me for a long time before he asked me out. I didn’t find that out until the trial. He’d been stalking me for months without my knowing.”

  “Can this happen even if they never met?” Judy asked. “I mean, I doubt that Beth Dietz ever spoke to Satorno.”

  “Again, it makes no difference. It was an erotomanic who stalked Madonna, and Martina Hingis. And Meg Ryan. The man who killed that TV actress, Rebecca Schaeffer? He had de Clérambault’s.”

  “That’s so scary,” Mary said. She came over and patted Anne’s shoulder, but Anne wasn’t sure whether she was comforting her or drawing comfort from her.

  Anne surveyed the scene, knowing the implications for Beth Dietz as clearly as if she were clairvoyant. It would start with e-mails, visits, then roses, notes and cards, phone calls and gifts, and surprise knocks on the door at all hours of the day and night. And it could end with a gun. Anne struggled to compose herself. “As long as Kevin Satorno is at large, Beth Dietz’s life is in danger. The question is, what do we do about it?”

  “We tell the police,” Judy answered. “No question.”

  “We also tell Beth Dietz,” Mary added. “No question.”

  Anne held up a hand like a traffic cop. “Correction. We make sure the cops tell Beth, and I’ll tell Matt, too. I still play dead until Tuesday. We don’t need Kevin enraged right now, for my sake or for Beth’s.”

  “Agreed,” Judy said, and Mary was shaking her head.

  “This is strange. We’re going to save Beth Dietz’s life, and she’s suing our client. The line between good and evil is shifting.”

  “Yeah, it’s funny,” Anne said, though she knew it was just the random part, from her fake-jogging. “As relieved as I am that Kevin may be letting me go, I still wouldn’t wish him on my worst enemy.”

  Judy smiled. “You know what that makes you, Murph?”

  “A fool?” Anne guessed.

  “A hooker with a heart of gold,” Mary answered, and they all laughed.

  Minutes later, the lawyers had closed the door to Kevin’s motel room and were scuffing down the corridor and piling into the elevator. Mary flipped open her cell phone, as they’d agreed, and pressed in the office number. “Bennie, guess what?” she said. “We found Kevin’s apartment. He’s at the Daytimer Motel in Pennsauken under the name Ken Reseda.”

  The elevator was so tiny, Anne could hear Bennie yelling, “HOW DO YOU KNOW ALL THAT? YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE TAKING CARE OF MURPHY! WHERE IS SHE?”

  Mary cringed. “We’re all together, and it’s kind of a long story. We called you as soon as we were sure it was him. We think he started stalking Beth Dietz. You wanna call the cops or should we?”

  The elevator opened onto the first floor as Bennie shouted, “WHERE ARE YOU, DiNUNZIO? TELL ME YOU’RE NOT IN JERSEY!”

  “Me? Where am I?” Mary tottered past the reception desk. “Uh, at a car wash?”

  Judy burst helpfully into car-wash noises. “Ppppshhhhhh! Pssssshhhhh! Ssshhhhhhh!”

  A car wash? Anne couldn’t believe it. It was the lamest lie she’d ever heard. It was the lamest lie in the bar association. She was almost embarrassed to be in its presence. These girls were crying out for her expertise, but now wasn’t the time for a lying lesson. She handed the room key to the surprised desk clerk on the way out. “Thank you for your help,” she breathed, in character.

  “Why you leavin’? Reseda ain’t back yet.”

  “He’s a superfreak,” Anne answered, and wiggled out the door behind the others. She would have asked the clerk not to tell Kevin they’d been there, but he’d be arrested as soon as he hit the lobby.

  She finally had him.

  23

  There was almost no traffic heading into the city, and the Beetle zoomed up the steep slope of the Ben Franklin Bridge, carrying three happy hookers. Wind blew off the Delaware River, setting everyone’s moussed hair flying, and Anne felt almost high as they sped to the top of the bridge.

  They had done it. They had found Kevin. He would be arrested, tried, and imprisoned for good. The nightmare would finally be over for her, and for Beth Dietz, who didn’t even know it had started. For Willa, there would be mourning and justice. Tomorrow would be Monday, the Fourth of July. There would be fireworks and ketchup bottles that burped. And Anne was beginning a love affair; one that felt like the real deal, as they said in Philadelphia. She smiled inwardly, with only one regret. “I wish we could have stayed and seen him get arrested.”

  Mary’s hair blew crazily around. “Me, too, but Bennie wanted us out, pronto. It wasn’t safe for us to stay. She called the cops on the other line and they’re on their way. And we have to be back at the office, for you to meet with Gil. We’re already late.”

  “Also we could have gotten arrested for indecent exposure,” Judy added. As she drove, she wiped off her makeup with Dunkin’ Donuts napkins.

  Anne leaned over the front seat. “I wonder how they’ll get him. I guess they’ll stake out the motel undercover, so he’s not warned when he comes back.”

  “Right.” Judy accelerated. The car reached the tippy-top of the bridge, laying the entire city at their feet. The skyline shimmered, festive for the Fourth, with the spiky towers of Liberty Place outlined in red, white, and blue neon, and the tops of Mellon Center bathed in red lights. Stray fireworks launched from the Philly side of the waterfront, and one ersatz comet streaked into the twilight, trailing glitter.

  Anne couldn’t stop worrying. “Tell me they’ll catch him, Judy.”

  “They’ll catch him,” Judy answered. “He’s smart, but not that smart. They’ll get the Philly and Jersey cops, even the Feds all over it. They’ll face Bennie Rosato if they don’t.”

  Anne felt reassured, almost. “But a zillion things can go wrong. I wish we could have stayed. I’d feel better. That closure thing.”

  Judy caught her eye on the rearview, then switched to the outside lane as they raced toward the city. “When the
y catch him, it’ll be all over the news. Bennie said she’d call us on the cell as soon as they had him in custody.”

  Mary turned around. “You will be free, Anne. Really free of him.”

  “Wahoo!” Judy yelled, and Anne smiled.

  “I guess you’re right. It’s just so hard to believe.” She breathed in the fresh air off the Delaware, but Judy was rooting around on the floor of the car while she drove, causing the Beetle to veer out of its lane at the edge of the bridge. Alarmed, Anne grabbed the hand-strap to keep from falling. “Judy, what are you doing?”

  “Watch this, ladies!” Judy sang out. She stopped rooting around, stuck her hand out the window, and hung her red platform shoes out by their ankle straps. They twisted in the wind as the car hurtled toward the city. “I’ll be free, too!”

  “Judy, don’t do it!” Anne shouted.

  “Stop! No!” Mary yelled, but it was already too late.

  “Good-bye, cruel shoes!” Judy yelled, and flung the platforms out the window and into the air. The shoes split apart like booster rockets and seemed to soar into the sky for a moment, then, realizing they were mere footwear, plummeted in a final arc over the side of the Ben Franklin Bridge and fell a few hundred feet into the Delaware River.

  “You killed them!” Anne said, but Judy was laughing her ass off.

  Mary peered out the back window. “You didn’t have to do that, Judy. They were perfectly good shoes.”

  “They sucked!” Judy yelled. “My only regret is that I didn’t get to see them drown. Like Anne, I have no resolution, no closure.”

  Anne found herself laughing, her spirits light. “Bet it sounded a lot like a car wash,” she said, and burst into car-wash noises. “Ppppshhhhhh! Pssssshhhhh! Ssshhhhhhh!” Judy joined her and in two minutes there was spit all over the VW dashboard.

  Mary couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll never teach you guys anything,” she said, but she was drowned out by a spray of hot wax as they slid down the bridge and into the twinkling city of Philadelphia.

  “Anne!” Gil exclaimed as he entered the conference room at Rosato & Associates. He looked Anne up and down, studying each star on her breasts, then his gaze lingered on her hot-pants and platforms. “Goddamn! You are so hot! And the shoes are totally—”

  “Please,” Anne said, her face as red as her pants. They’d been so late to the meeting, she hadn’t had time to change. Mental note: Don’t dress like a whore to meet clients who cheat.

  Gil couldn’t stop grinning as he eased into a chair opposite her. “I can’t get over it. Look at you, woman! You are so damn beautiful! You always were.”

  “Right. Thanks.” She sat down in front of her legal pad to restore some sense of legitimacy, and noticed that Gil, in sports jacket and tie, was carrying a manila envelope. “You have the evidence of the affair? Great. Can I see it?”

  “It’s in my pants.” He laughed, but Anne didn’t. Was he coming on? Why was he talking like this? He never had before. She didn’t like the way he was smiling at her and she could smell faintly that he’d been drinking.

  “You come from a barbecue or something, Gil?”

  “Or something. A party.” Gil seemed to forget about the envelope on the table between them, its shape reflected on the polished surface. “I have to tell you, it’s been really terrific working with you, Anne. You’ve been terrific.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re a great lawyer. You’re so—” he seemed to stall, waiting for the right word, “gutsy. Tough. Ballsy. For such a beautiful woman.” His eyes flashed. “And so very beautiful. I’ve always thought it, ever since law school.”

  “Great.” Anne let him babble while she reached for the envelope and slid it toward her. She didn’t have time to waste, and she felt antsy and nervous. They still hadn’t heard from the detectives about Kevin’s arrest. Bennie and the others were sitting by the phone. She held up the envelope. “May I open it?”

  “Sure!” He waved it off. “You know, me and the guys, you remember the guys, from the poker group in the dorm?”

  “Sure. Played poker.” Anne had no idea what he was rambling about. She unfastened the little brass brad and reached inside the envelope.

  “We all were so hot for you. I had this picture of you, the one from the pig book. I always thought you were the most stunning woman I ever saw in my life.”

  Anne fished around in the envelope but there was no paper inside, only something thin and sharp.

  “I knew you didn’t go for my type. Computer geek. B.A. in engineering. I was smart, but you were way out of my league. Well, you’re not anymore. I’m fairly successful, no?” Gil waved a raised fist. “Geeks rule!”

  But Anne was only half listening, because there was nothing in the envelope except a CD. She pulled it out and held it up. Its silvery surface caught the overhead light in wiggly rainbow stripes. She flipped it over, looking for a label. Was it music, or some type of stored data?

  “I’d really like it if you’d come work for me, Anne. I’m offering you a big job, a big, big job as general counsel at Chipster. Pay is three hundred grand to start, plus stock options. When we go IPO, you’ll be worth millions.”

  Anne held up the CD. “What is this?”

  Gil grinned crookedly. “You answer me first. When do you want to start? Me and you can take Chipster onward and upward!”

  “You’ve been drinking.”

  “Guilty as charged!” Gil held up a hand. “So you wanna be my GC? ’cause I wanna be your boyfriend.”

  Anne’s stomach turned over. “Gil, focus a minute.” She sent the CD spinning across the table like a flying saucer. “I’m trying to win a case for you, despite your best efforts to screw it up. First, you lie to me about your affair with Beth Dietz, then you bring me a CD when I ask you for evidence. What gives?”

  “You don’t need to win the case for me, Anne. I already won it for myself. The CD is the evidence, my love.”

  Anne ignored the “my love” part. Gil was only embarrassing himself, and it was the Glenlivet talking. “How is a CD evidence of an affair?”

  “It’s not, but it’s evidence, all right. It’s proof.”

  “Of what?”

  “Of wrongdoing. Of theft. Of corporate espionage.” Gil picked up the CD with difficulty and looked through the hole in the center, peeking out with one blue-green eye. “Boo!”

  “Gil, what are you doing?”

  “You underestimated me, Anne.” He set the CD down, suddenly serious. “You thought that I had screwed up—as you say, interesting choice of words—but I never really do that. I cover my tracks. Plan all my moves. You have to, to be successful in e-business, you know. The competition is killer. On the bleeding edge, you can’t be the one who bleeds.”

  “So what’s on the CD?”

  “Okay, well. Let me take you back a minute, to our corporate annals. I started Chipster with a few good men—sorry, good-lookin’—and one of them was Bill Dietz.”

  Anne remembered, from rereading the dep the other day.

  “Dietz came a little later, from another web company called Environstar. Dietz was smart and he worked hard, put in the hours, and he had good ideas, for an asshole. Above all, he wrote good code.”

  “Okay.”

  “Chipster took off, and we developed our product, our web application, partly on the code he wrote. But a year down the line, Dietz told me he’d stolen the base code from Environstar.” Gil held up the CD. “This is the code he stole.”

  “Did Environstar prosecute?”

  “No, they had stolen code to start their own company. Everybody steals in software, mainly because it’s never finished, it just goes through about three hundred versions, from 1.0 to 37.9, and people change jobs, over time. But that’s not the point. This is about me, not Dietz. Be a smart girl and tell me what I did next.”

  Anne thought a minute. Last week she would have had a different answer, but she was looking at Gil with new eyes. And learning to plan—in advance
. “You did nothing. You used the base code, developed it, and made a fortune. You shut up about its origin and you grew your company.”

  “Yes! God, and so smart, too! A whip!” Gil hunched over the desk. “I like women with brains. I’m not like the others.”

  No, you’re worse. “Why didn’t you give Dietz any stock options?”

  “Because he came later, and he wasn’t a founder, technically. And I didn’t have to keep him.”

  Anne was catching on. “No, because you’d found out about the stolen code. So you had something on him. If he left you, you’d expose him.”

  “I love it when you talk dirty. Do you talk dirty, Anne? I have often wondered about that, late at night.” Gil leaned even farther over the table, but she stood up and walked around the back of her chair, really sorry that she was half-naked.

  “Gil, what does the CD have to do with the Chipster case?”

  “It will make it go away. I didn’t have it before, but I finally paid off the right programmer. Now I have the proof I need. Bye-bye Beth, hello IPO.” Gil licked his lips. “I called Dietz directly after we spoke today. I told him to tell his wife to call off the dogs or I’ll go public—with the CD.” He laughed, but Anne was struggling to get up to speed and avoid attempted rape.

  “If you expose him, you’re liable too, maybe even criminally.”

  “He won’t call my bluff, he’s too scared. I can afford the hottest lawyer in town. He can’t afford dick.”

  Anne ignored it. “But how does that get rid of the lawsuit?”

  “Beth doesn’t know he stole the code. They met after he came to Chipster.”

  “How do you know she doesn’t know? Maybe he told her.”

  “No, she never would have sued me if she’d known, it was too risky. And she would have mentioned it during our little affair, but she didn’t. Now he’ll tell her the whole truth and nothing but, and she’ll understand that suing me for revenge was not a good idea.”

  Anne blinked. “Gil, you won’t win now. She’ll just drop the suit. Withdraw it.”

  “No, no, no.” Gil wagged his finger, rising from his seat. “Not what I want. Not what I asked my old friend Dietz for. I want the suit to go forward and the plaintiff to have a sudden memory loss. Trial amnesia, when she takes the stand. Then I want you to kick her lousy ass, get me my jury verdict, and restore my good name, so I look good to my Board. Not just settle. Win.”