Murder One (12 page)

“My main man these days is Milo.”

“Milo?” Ben turned to look at her. “You’re joking.”

“Why does everyone act like that? It’s a perfectly good name.”

“Yeah, for a cat.”

“Milo is a great guy. Very deep.” She dipped her hand into the cheese treats. “He’s majoring in poetry.”

“Poetry? Can you major in that?”

“Well, literature, then. But he wants to be a poet. I’m not sure he knows how to go about it, though. You’re an educated guy, Ben. You’ve written a book. What do you suggest?”

“I suggest he doesn’t give up his day job.”

“Ha ha.” She twirled a strand of hair absently around her finger.

Ben sat down on the sofa beside her. “I’m sorry. Something’s really bothering you, isn’t it?”

She flipped her curls from one side to the other. “It’s just that, well, Milo—he’s really smart, you know what I mean? Like, major major-league smart.”

“Ye-es …”

“And when he talks to me, he wants to have these deep conversations about symbolism and semi—semi—”

“Semiotics?”

“Yeah. That.” Her voice dropped a notch. “I think. So he starts blabbing all this highbrow stuff and it’s way over my head and I think, what kind of dummy must he think I am?”

“Joni, listen to me. You have no reason to feel inferior. You’re as bright as anyone I know.”

“Yeah, maybe, but we both know I wouldn’t be in college if it hadn’t been for you.”

“Joni, all I did—”

“The point is, I can’t talk all that hoity-toity talk. I don’t know how. And I’m not likely to learn.”

“So don’t try.”

Her face elongated. “What?”

“You heard me. Don’t try.” He took her firmly by the shoulders. “Joni, you’re a smart, resourceful girl. You’ve got as much right to be at T.U. as anyone. You don’t have to imitate other people.”

“Yeah, but I can’t rattle on about the use of horticulture in Shakespeare.”

“And I’m willing to bet Milo couldn’t rewire Mrs. Slotznik’s electricity.”

“Well, you may have something there …”

“Joni, I’ve known you for how many years now?”

“I dunno. Lots.”

“Right. And I’ve never met anyone who knew you who didn’t love you. Self included.”

She bowed her head. “Aww, shucks.”

“You were a great caregiver when I was keeping my nephew Joey. You did a superlative job of caring for Mrs. Marmelstein when she needed it. Heck, now you’re taking care of the whole house. You’re the most caring person I know. I can promise you Milo will see that. And if by chance he doesn’t—then you need to find someone else who will.”

Joni slowly raised her head a notch and smiled. “Thanks, Benjy. You’re razor.”

“Is that good?”

“The best. If there’s ever anything I can do for you—”

He raised a finger. “Now that you mention it, I’m having a little trouble with my garbage disposal …”

Joni went back to her apartment around eight for dinner. She was ravenous, despite having eaten half a bag of cheese puffs, and she had some studying to do for a test tomorrow.

Which left Ben alone. Again.

To keep himself busy, he surfed aimlessly through the channels on his television, looked over some briefs he’d brought home from work, and fed his enormous cat, Giselle. How could he have lived in Tulsa so long and still be so perfectly, stupidly, alone? Imagine being his age, unmarried, living in a small apartment (even if he did own it now), essentially by himself. Sure, he had friends, coworkers, people he cared about and he believed cared about him—Joni, Clayton, Mike, Jones, Loving. And Christina. Especially Christina.

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.

J
ONES 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 rid 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.”