Courting Trouble (24 page)

“Yes, sir,” she said.

“This is for your own good, Miss Murphy. Fugitive apprehension is a dangerous business. If I catch you outta line one more time, I’m lockin’ you up. Got me, counselor?”

“Understood,” Anne said. She did understand. Next time, she wouldn’t get caught.

The detective eyed her warily, then Judy and Mary. “You read me, ladies?”

“Yes, sir,” said Mary.

“We’ll be good,” said Judy.

“We got a deal?” Bennie asked, but she already knew the answer.

Half an hour later, the lawyers were running the media gauntlet outside the Roundhouse, barreling in mourning clothes through reporters, cameras, videocams, shouted questions, and klieg lights. Bennie broke the throng with a strong arm, clutching Anne’s elbow. Judy and Mary flanked them like a moving offensive line.

Anne had kept her head down, wearing Judy’s sunglasses and a canary-yellow PAL baseball cap they stole from a desk in the squad room. They’d made it to the curb, grabbed a cab, lost the newsvan that gave chase, and ended up back at Rosato & Associates, piling into Bennie’s office. Anne had been in here so rarely she couldn’t help looking around when she was supposed to be off with the others, making the requisite coffee.

Overstuffed tapestry-covered chairs in tones of pink-and-claret ringed Bennie’s desk, and the desk chair was of cherry wood, covered with buttery, burgundy leather. The rug was a nubby Berber, and the office was even more cluttered than Anne’s, with law books, papers, case files, and exhibits cramming the bookshelves and covering the large desk and countertops. Certificates and awards from the federal and state bar associations and civil liberties groups blanketed the walls, and Anne wondered if she’d receive even one of those awards in her career. But first she’d have to live long enough. She made it her business to do so. The secret in her bra would help. Not
that
secret, the
other
secret.

“Our luck has to get better, doesn’t it?” Judy breezed into the office and handed Anne a cup of coffee, which she accepted with thanks from her somewhat bedraggled colleague. Judy’s black skirt and clogs were drenched with flower water, and she’d lost an earring in the melee. The remaining silver teardrop dangled from her ear and it caught the sunlight as she took the seat next to Anne. “We agreed in the coffee room, the memorial was a fiasco.”

“I’m sorry, Judy,” Anne said. “I hate that everyone will think you’re a murder suspect, even for a day.”

Judy waved it off. “The cops will make a statement that I’m not under suspicion.” Bennie and Mary came into the room bearing coffee, and took their seats, Bennie in her cozy desk chair and Mary next to Judy.

“But nobody will believe it,” Anne countered, and Mary’s face went red.

“I should have checked for pocket cameras.”

Bennie shook her head, taking a sip of coffee. “He was posing as a guest, they both were, and we never thought to search the guests. We weren’t worried about the press, we were worried about Kevin.” She took another quick sip. “And I should have thought about the rental car, when you told me it had been towed. Everybody keeps the papers in the car, they’re temporary registration. I just didn’t think of it.”

“Me neither,” Anne said. “Look, let’s not get crazy over it. It’s nobody’s fault. It’s just one of those things that happen.” She thought about explaining random, then decided against it. It would make her look ditzy, like memorizing most of
I Love Lucy.
Okay,
all
of
I Love Lucy.
Then she remembered her conversation with Gil and his admission of his affair with Beth. She couldn’t keep it from them. They were all on the same side now, and girlfriends didn’t keep secrets, Anne knew from TV. “Guys, there’s something we should discuss,” she began, and told them the story. When she had finished, the women were uniformly stony-faced.

“The man is a slimeball,” Judy said.

“A pig,” Mary said.

“A liar,” Anne said.

“A
client
,” Bennie said.

“Not anymore. I told him to get another lawyer,” Anne shot back, and Bennie set down her coffee mug in surprise.

“Oh, really?”

“Damn straight.”

“You’re fired.”

Ouch
.

“I’m kidding, but you shouldn’t have done that.”

“Bennie, Gil lied to me. For almost a year, over and over. You think I didn’t cross-examine Gil about Beth Dietz? I’m not that naive.”

“Then get over the fact that he lied to you. Clients lie.
People
lie. They want others to think better of them than they are.”

Anne squirmed even on the soft chair. “He cheated on his wife.”

“Since when do you have standing to assert that? You her lawyer? This a divorce action?” Bennie’s blue eyes flashed. “You’re a very smart girl, Murphy, so think analytically. Reason it out. The man is right when he says that it changes nothing, in terms of his lawsuit. And you’re right when you say you don’t put him or the wife up on the stand. I won’t have you suborning perjury.”

“I should tell him to go to hell.”

“No, you have no business speaking that way to a client. I’m sure he knows you were only blowing off steam. What you do now is tell him how to win this lawsuit, because that’s what he’s paying you for. Strike that.
Me
for. Even better.” Bennie grinned, but couldn’t coax one from Anne.

“So what do I do, Bennie? How can I win this case? Matt is totally right. He has the facts.”

“Matt’s a genius,” Judy said. “A legal genius. He’s Louis Brandeis with hair, Earl Warren with muscles, Felix Frankfurter. With a frankfurter.”

Bennie and Mary laughed, but Anne was trying not to. “Forget I said that. Leave Matt out of it, okay?”

Judy giggled. “Anne, when we said to beat his pants off, we didn’t mean it literally.”

Anne pretended to ignore her. “Bennie, what do I do? Not with Judy, who is completely hopeless, but with Gil.”

“Now it gets interesting.” Bennie picked up her java diva mug again. Everyone in the office knew who it belonged to. “He tells the truth.”

“A novel defense strategy,” Judy interjected, but Bennie had had better practice at ignoring her.

“You put him up, and he says there was an affair, but that it was consensual. You get all the details from him, like how they got together, how it all happened. Times they met, what they did. See if there are any cards she sent him, any notations of their meetings on calendars, any time they went to hotels or restaurants. You want evidence that it was an affair. You will
prove
it was an affair, and you’ll win.”

Anne shuddered. “Sounds ugly.”

“It is.” Bennie nodded. “Ask Clarence Thomas.”

“I still believe Anita,” Judy said.

“You know what’s really interesting about this development?” Mary asked, and they all paid attention, because she usually left it to others to advance legal theory. She cleared her throat. “What’s interesting is what Matt knows. In other words, has his client lied to him, like Anne’s client lied to her? Does Matt think the affair was consensual or forced?”

“Forced,” Anne answered quickly. Too quickly, she realized, because the others were watching her. They wanted inside information. Pillow talk. Maybe this was why you weren’t supposed to share pillows with opposing counsel. “I don’t think he’d bring the case if he knew it was a lie.”

“Really?” Judy asked. “Plenty of lawyers would.”

“Not him,” Anne said, but everybody was too kind to question her. She had a feeling she would be questioning herself anyway. And she was still wondering why Matt had brought the Dietzes to her service.

Mary nodded. “I’m sure you’re right, Anne. But another issue is why Beth Dietz filed the suit.”

“The affair was over and she was pissed,” Anne answered. “Revenge. That’s what Gil thinks anyway. He said so.”

Bennie stood up and stretched. “Okay, kids, we have a lot going on. The key thing right now is for us to keep Anne safe until the cops pick up Satorno. Here’s what we do—”

“I’d love to get showered, changed, and get back to work on
Chipster
,” Anne interrupted. She was thinking of the secret in her bra, and she still had no panties. She was having definite lingerie issues. “Can I go back to your house and get cleaned up, Bennie?”

“No. I don’t want you out of my sight. You can use the office shower, like you did before, and we have plenty of clothes here.”

Damn.
Anne had to execute her new Plan B and she couldn’t let Bennie in on it. The boss would never agree, after that meeting with the cops. “Please, the clothes here scream fashion mistake. I’ll be safe. Mary and Judy can come with me. They’ll be my bodyguards.”

“You can use my apartment, if you want,” Mary said. “I can lend you some clothes. We’re about the same size.”

Judy finished her coffee. “I’ll watch them both, Bennie,” she offered.

“So can we go, Mom?” Anne asked.

Bennie looked dubious, but this time it was Anne who already knew the answer, and they left the office, sailed down the elevator and out the back entrance, sweltering in black. Anne waited until they had all squeezed into the sweaty backseat of a cab and were five blocks from the office before she reached into her bra.

And the three girls went after Kevin Satorno.

S
CHWARTZ
’
S
F
LOWERS,
read the sign outside, and the dark-haired sales clerk was so harried that she barely looked up when the empty shop was invaded by three lawyers in black. She had a cordless phone crooked under one ear and was tapping away on an old keyboard at the computer/cash register. “We’re closed,” she said, hitting the Enter key. “I didn’t have a chance to turn the sign over yet, but we’re totally closed.”

“I just have a question or two,” Mary replied, planting herself at the counter. The girls had agreed by process of elimination that she’d do the questioning; Anne couldn’t draw further attention to herself, Judy was already in the news, and Mary needed assertiveness training.

The clerk only grunted in response, taking an order over the telephone, and Anne took the opportunity to glance around. The store was a single room, square like a corsage box, and the air smelled floral and vaguely refrigerated. The floor was of green indoor-outdoor carpeting, and potted plants ringed the room. Against the walls sat stainless-steel display cases of Gerber daisies in orange and gold, tall iris in characteristic blue, white gladioli, carnations sprayed pink, and long-stemmed white roses. Despite their beauty, Anne felt a dark shiver.

Kevin had been here.

Her eyes fell to the counter cluttered with ribbon snippings, a leftover clump of baby’s breath, and a stray fern. Next to the cash register sat a rack of small gift cards, many of which bore preprinted messages: With Sympathy, Thinking of You, For a Speedy Recovery. Anne’s spotted a plain white card like the one she’d recovered from the floor at the Chestnut Club and had tucked in her underwire. She plucked the new card from the rack and turned it over in her hand while the sales clerk, behind the counter, hung up the phone.

“We’re closed, honest,” the sales clerk repeated. Her eyes were a hazel brown, catching the light that streamed in the storefront window facing her, and her makeup had worn off. She wore a white T-shirt and jeans under a tall, white apron with a green FTD logo on it. Her nameplate read rachel, in kelly green. “I’m already cashed out for the day. I can’t sell you anything.”

“I don’t want to buy anything,” Mary said. “I’m looking for a man named Kevin Satorno, who brought or delivered red roses to a memorial service today. You either employ him or he picked them up here and brought them himself. Can you help? I won’t take up much of your time.”

“His name is Satorno? I can tell you he doesn’t work here.” Rachel smiled. “You gotta be family to work here. If he’s not a Schwartz, he’s not an employee.”

“So you know all the delivery people?”

“They’re all family.”

“No temps?”

“You can’t be a temporary Schwartz.”

Mary smiled. “Okay, that’s a great help. So, that means he bought roses here and delivered them himself.”

“Whatever.” The cordless phone rang, and Rachel picked it up. “No, Twenty-second Street! Twenty-second Street!
Not Twenty-third!
” She hung up. “My brother is a complete idiot. This is the bad thing about a family business. Your family.”

“Were you working here earlier today and yesterday?”

“Yes. I’m the Schwartz who can count. My brother hates math.”

“This man bought a dozen red roses here, today or yesterday. He delivered them with a card from this shop. He looks like this.” Mary pulled half of the red flyer from her purse and showed it to Rachel. They had decided it was almost as good as Kevin’s mug shot and didn’t tip off that he was wanted by the cops, thus avoiding any pesky questions. “He’s white, tall, young, and good-looking. He has blue eyes, and his hair used to be pale blond, but he’s since dyed it black. It was either blond or black when he came here. I know it’s not overly helpful, but it’s all I’m sure of.”

“Either way, his face doesn’t look familiar.” Rachel handed the flyer back.

“You don’t remember him?”

“No way. Do you have any idea how many people have been in this store over the past two days, buying red roses? Everybody orders red for July Fourth, for entertaining and such. It’s red-white-and-blue time. I can’t keep anything red in stock.” Rachel gestured at the display case. “See that iris? It’s gorgeous but it’ll rot there. July Fourth is almost as bad as Valentine’s Day.”

“I see. Do you keep records of what people order, when they buy?”

“Sure. I fill out an order for the sale, even walk-ins, if that’s what you mean.”

“Does it contain any personal information, like name or address?”

“Sure, I ask everybody for name, address, and phone number, but not everybody wants to give it. They don’t have to legally, but we ask anyway, for the mailing list.” Rachel looked defensive. “If it’s really busy though, I don’t always get a chance to write out the order. I just fill it and give ’em the flowers. Drives my dad nuts.”