“Sorry, stupid question.”
“No kidding.”
“Did you see anyone or anything else of a suspicious nature? Either at the time or after the fact?”
She shook her head. “I’ll tell you what I told the cops. I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Until you started snuggling with the stiff, that is.” She snapped her fingers. “Although, now that you mention it, Denny was acting bizarre. Even more than usual.”
Ben’s head snapped to attention. “How so?”
“It’s hard to explain. It was more … a feeling I had, a feeling I got when I was around him. Didn’t you notice anything?”
Ben shook his head no.
“Just after rehearsal, he was wandering around with his head bowed, muttering to himself.” She whipped back her dangling blonde spikes. “If I were you, I’d talk to Denny.”
“I saved him for tomorrow. He lives out of town, you know.”
“Oh, yes, I know. Do you?”
Ben blinked. “Do—what?”
She grinned. “You’ll find out.”
A tall man approached Diane, with shimmering diaphanous costumes draped over each arm. “Diane, honey, I need a decision.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“Which do you prefer, the pink or the chartreuse?”
“Mmm … the pink.”
“Good, I thought so.” He whirled around and headed back toward the wings.
Diane smiled at Ben. “See? They love me.”
“Do you know anything about costumes?”
She laughed. “I’m not even sure those were costumes. For all I know, Scott’s picking out drapes for his living room.”
Ben tried to steer the conversation back to the murder. “What about Earl? How much do you know about him?”
“Not much. He’s the boss, that’s all. And a pretty mediocre poker player.”
“Know anyone who dislikes him?”
“I’ve seen him toss out a drunken patron or three.”
“I need something more than that. Something that would create a strong motive.”
“But Earl wasn’t killed. It was that Lily woman.”
“Yes, but someone went to a lot of trouble to implicate Earl. Know of anyone who would have a motive for that?”
She thought for several moments. “Sorry. I really don’t.”
“And you probably didn’t know Lily Campbell.”
“No, I didn’t. But Scat did. Her death really hit him hard.”
“Why do you say that?”
“It was something I heard just after the corpse tumbled to the ground. I was in the wings at the time, closest to Scat. As soon as the corpse rolled forward, and we both got a clear look at her face, he murmured, ‘The lily’s been clipped.’ It was under his breath, just barely audible. I’m sure I’m the only one who heard it. I didn’t understand what it meant at the time; I thought he was being poetic. But then, after I heard what the woman’s name was … well, I knew better.”
“Hmm. That’s something, anyway. Thanks, Diane.”
“Anytime.”
“Thanks. Maybe I’ll drop by later and let you make a decision for me.”
It couldn’t hurt, he thought, as he ambled across the stage toward the back door. After all, he had several pending at the moment. And he didn’t seem to be making any progress on his own.
Chapter 27
CHRISTINA SHOWED UP at Ben’s apartment around eight, not long after he arrived himself.
“I got everything you asked for,” she said, reaching into a paper sack. “Two platters of cashew chicken double delight, egg rolls, lumpia dogs, dessert, coffee”—she paused—“and this.” She withdrew a small handheld mirror. “So what’s shaking, Ben? Don’t you already have a mirror in your bathroom?”
“Um, yeah,” he hedged. “A wall mirror. But I wanted … another one.”
“You did? Why?”
“No reason.”
A tentative smile crept across her face. “You’re going to look at the back of your head, aren’t you?”
His chin rose. “I don’t see that it’s any concern of yours.”
“That’s the only time guys need a second mirror.” She spread the food across the kitchen table. “May I ask what’s brought on this sudden concern about the back of your head?”
He thought carefully before answering. “When those cops surrounded me at your place yesterday, I heard one of them describing me on his car radio. He said I was a white male, five five—and I’m actually five six—”
“In shoes.”
“Slim—and get this—brown hair, ‘slightly balding in the back.’ Can you believe that?”
Christina looked away. “Well…”
He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Give it to me straight, Christina. Is my hair falling out?”
She shrugged. “Just a little.” She touched a place on the back of his head. “Just a teeny-weeny little bald spot.”
“A bald spot? He didn’t say there was a bald spot!”
“Ben, it s tiny. “I can’t believe this! I’m too young!”
“Apparently not.”
“My father lived to be fifty-nine and he never balded at all.”
“Your father’s hairline is irrelevant. It’s your mother’s genes that matter.”
“My mother isn’t bald!”
“Yes, but are any of the men on her side of the family?”
He hesitated. “Well …”
“See?” She gave him a friendly jab. “Don’t worry about it. It’s perfectly natural. Who cares?”
“Who cares? I care!”
“Well, I don’t. Let’s eat.”
Somewhat reluctantly, Ben followed her lead. A few moments later, they were both digging in.
“I got everything I could down at City Hall,” Christina explained between bites. “Of course, since they haven’t charged Earl, they don’t think they have any obligation to share evidence, exculpatory or not.”
“That’s how it usually works,” Ben replied. He grabbed a lumpia dog and dipped it in the yellow sauce. “They want to get all their ducks in a row before they give us anything.”
“I did start processing motions and pleadings. When the time comes, all we’ll have to do is fill in the blanks. Still, we’ll be at a disadvantage.” She frowned. “It doesn’t seem like this is how the law should work. If they’ve already made the decision to charge Earl, it’s just semantics. He is in fact a defendant. The Brady rule should require them to produce any exculpatory evidence.”
“You’ll get no argument from me. But the Supreme Court said otherwise. Boren v. Oklahoma.”
“No, that was about gender discrimination in drinking laws. You’re thinking about Conners v. Wisconsin.”
Ben set down his fork. “Since when did my legal assistant have a better command of case law than I do?”
She hesitated a moment. “I’ve been hanging around you lawyers for over ten years. I was bound to pick up something.”
“Yes, but—”
She changed the subject. “So you don’t think Gordo was hiding anything?”
“I didn’t see any evidence. But who knows? All that death worship stuff was so weird. Who knows what might be buzzing around in his brain? Who knows what someone might do, especially after they’ve decided that death is no big deal.” He shook his head. “For that matter, Diane seemed perfectly open to me. But you know what a lousy judge of character I am.”
“I certainly do.” She scooped some more white rice onto her plate. “Do you intend to see Denny?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Good. How’s Mrs. Marmelstein doing?”
“I’m going down there after I eat. I really don’t think she should be left alone.”
“That’s fine for tonight. But what about tomorrow? And the next day?”
“Christina, I can’t watch her day and night for the rest of her life.”
“So what are you going to do? Send her off to some home filled with peo
ple she doesn’t know?”
“She needs to have people caring for her. Full-time.”
“She would hate that.”
“True. When I suggested it, she became hostile.”
“I’m sure she’s very scared. She knows what’s happening to her. At least some of the time she knows.” Christina paused a moment. “You know, Ben—she depends on you.”
Ben’s eyes narrowed. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
“She doesn’t have any living family. No one she’s ever mentioned, anyway. She’s come to depend on you.”
“What are you saying—that I should become her private nurse?”
“Not that exactly, but—”
“Do you have any idea how difficult it would be caring for an elderly woman with Alzheimer’s?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. But I still think—”
“I have things to do! I’m going on tour with the band this summer.”
Christina didn’t respond, but she gave him a look he didn’t like a bit. “Oh, I almost forgot. I brought up your mail.” She tossed a few envelopes his way. “Looks like you got something from New York.”
Ben rapidly thumbed through the letters till he found the one in question. He ripped it open with his thumb and began to read. His eyes darted quickly down the page.
“Well?” Christina asked.
Ben sighed. “Same old same old.” He affected an impersonal baritone. “We’re sorry, but we regret to inform you that your manuscript does not meet any of our current needs. Thank you for considering us.” He wadded it up and lobbed it into the trash can in the corner. “I wish I’d never written the damn thing.”
“You have to be patient. Getting published is tough. Some of the greatest writers who ever lived spent years trying to get published.”
“Well, I’m not one of the greatest writers who ever lived. Maybe I should just hang it up.”
“C’mon, Ben. You’re not a quitter. Just ride this out.”
“Right, right.”
“If you don’t sell this book, maybe you’ll sell the next one.”
“I don’t have time to write another book.”
“Grueling life of a part-time pianist weighing you down?”
He gave her a sharp look. “No, but there’s the minor matter of this murder case. And I’d like to check on Joey. Even if he is with his mother, I feel responsible. I’m his guardian, after all. Or was, anyway.”
Christina nodded. “I’m not surprised. You’ve always taken that parens patriae stuff very seriously.”
Ben set down his fork. “Christina, when did you trade in your French?”
“Huh?”
“Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve driven me nuts with the pidgin French you picked up in that extension course at TCC. But lately, you’ve gone Latin.”
She laughed unconvincingly “How odd.”
“Yes, very. And you’re dropping case names like they were common knowledge and arguing legal issues like—” He stopped. His eyes widened. “You’re going to law school, aren’t you?”
Christina remained perfectly still, a frozen smile on her face. “Why would you say that?”
“Because it’s true.” He tossed down his napkin. “That’s what all this mystery has been about. Those classes you’ve been going to—it’s not some past lives nonsense. You’ve been taking classes at TU law school!”
Christina’s eyes lowered. “I suppose there’s no point in denying it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Well, I wasn’t sure how you’d take it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sometimes lawyers aren’t all that pleased when their legal assistants try to … join them.”
“Ben Kincaid—the insecure sexist pig?”
“I’m not saying that. I just thought it might be … awkward.”
“Awkward? Awkward?”
“Yeah. Like now.” She pushed away her plate. “Me and my big mouth.”
“I don’t know why you’re acting this way.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Why should I care that you’re going to law school?”
“See! I knew it would be like this!”
“Christina, I could care less if you go to law school. I just can’t believe you thought you couldn’t confide in me.”
“I thought it might make you uncomfortable. You know. Someone who used to work for you, on her way to becoming …”
“An equal?”
She shrugged. “Whatever.”
“What is this, nineteenth-century England? You can damn well go to law school if you want, damn it! I can’t stop you.”
She put her hands to her face. “I knew you’d be upset!”
“I can’t believe you thought I’d be upset!”
“But you are upset!”
“Yes, but not because you’re going to law school!” He stopped himself, realizing he was almost shouting. “I just didn’t think we kept secrets from each other. I tell you everything.”
“You do not.”
“Do too.”
“Really! Did you tell me you were writing a book?”
“Well … no. But I was going to.”
“Did you tell me about your father? Why he wrote you out of his will? Why he disowned you and said you weren’t his son anymore?”
“Well, that’s different.”
“Did you tell me your favorite TV show is Xena: Warrior Princess?”
“What?” He sat bolt upright. “It is not.”
“I found a tape full of Xena in the VCR in your living room.”
“That … isn’t mine.”
“Yeah, well, I put it in the drawer with all the other Xena tapes that aren’t yours.”
“Christina!”
“The point is, no one tells anyone everything.”
“No, the point is, you should have trusted me. The point is, we shouldn’t keep secrets from each other. We shouldn’t—”
He stopped suddenly. What was going on here? They were starting to sound like—
He blinked. Now that was a disturbing thought.
He took a deep breath and tried to calm down. “Look, Christina, I don’t mind. I’m just surprised, that’s all.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I didn’t even know you were interested in law school.”
“I didn’t know myself until about six months ago. After you decided you’d just up and stop practicing. Where did that leave me—a legal assistant with no lawyer? Then suddenly it dawned on me. Why should I be at the mercy of some lawyer all my life? Why should I be out of work every time he decides he wants to move or join a corporation or sing depressing folk songs in nightclubs? Why shouldn’t I be a lawyer myself? I’m smart.”
“You are smart.”
“So I took the LSAT, just to see how it went. Turned out I did pretty well. So I applied at TU. And lo and behold—I got in. Cleaned out my savings, but I got in.”
“So you’re in your first year. Miserable, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. This Socratic method bit really sucks.”
“It’s a rotten way to educate students,” Ben said, “but a great head trip for professors.”
“Yeah. That’s it exactly.” She slowly lifted her eyes. “So you’re not mad at me?
“Christina, you’re being ridiculous. Of course I’m not mad at you. I’m proud of you.” He winked. “And as soon as you get out of school, .I’ll give you a job.”
“Who are you kidding? When I get out, I’ll give you a job. And the paychecks will be a lot more regular, believe me.”
“Christina, I’m wounded to the quick.”
“Yeah, well, that’s what we lawyers do, isn’t it?”
Chapter 28
THE NEXT MORNING, Christina drove the van while Ben navigated. They took the Cherokee Turnpike south out of Tulsa, turned near the Port of Catoosa, and headed toward Claremore.
“This place is somewhere along the side of the road,” Ben said as he studiously pored
over a map. “Before you get to Claremore, according to Gordo.”
“I’ll keep my eyes peeled,” Christina answered. “What’s the name again?”
“The Christian Purity Bible Camp.”
“Right. How could I forget?” She pulled into the left-hand lane. “And Denny is staying here?”
“So I’ve been told. Some people live there all year round.”
“They must be very pure.”
“Apparently.”
A few miles later, Ben pointed out the turnoff on the side of the road. Christina swerved over and drove down a dirt driveway barred by an iron gate. There was a speaker box beside the gate, with a big blue button beneath.
“Looks like they don’t let just anyone in here,” Christina commented.
“They wouldn’t stay pure long if they did.”
“Is anyone expecting us?”
“No. I was hoping we could just slip in and chat with Denny for a bit, then slip out again. Before we got contaminated with too much purity.”
“Right.” Christina reached out and pushed the blue button. A few moments later, the speaker box crackled alive.
“I hope you’re enjoying this beautiful day God has given us,” said the tinny female voice emerging from the box. “Welcome to the Christian Purity Bible Camp. How can we serve you?”
“We’re here to talk to one of your … er … campers.”
The box crackled. “I’m afraid we have to maintain the privacy of our members. Admittance is only granted to members and prospective members. Are you interested in joining us?”
Christina hesitated barely a second. “Yes, that’s right. We are.”
“Very well,” the voice in the box said. “I’ll open the gate. Please drive straight to the administration cabin at the end of the main road. I’ll meet you there. And of course, please refrain from taking any photographs along the way.”
Ben’s forehead creased. Did photography have a depurifying effect?
Christina pulled the van to the end of the road and parked. Ben opened the passenger-side door, hopped out, and found himself face-to-face with the woman behind the voice.
He froze, lips parted. “Buh—wha—I—”
She was an older woman, hair brown but flecked with gray. There were a few pronounced wrinkles in her face, but she was still healthy and attractive. She seemed friendly and relaxed, and yet her face bore a suggestion of sophistication. In fact, in many ways, she reminded Ben of his mother. Except for one minor detail.
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