stretched between his knees, and the packet they'd sent to Ralph's wife was taped inside the waistband. He'd carried the damn thing every day like they told him to. He'd felt like a secret agent taping the packet to his skivvies in the morning, but now he was glad he had. He would never have guessed Christopher would pull a Benedict Arnold. The man turned out to be just plain weak.
The packet was tiny and plastic, no bigger than a thumbnail, and it contained white powder. Ralph didn't know what the powder was, but they told him it wouldn't kill anybody, just give him a stomachache for a day or two, long enough to get him off the jury. They told Ralph to use it if he got in a jam. Ralph figured this was a jam all right.
The urinals flushed as he peeled the packet off the waistband, leaving white threads stuck to the tape. Ralph threw the tape in the toilet and tucked the packet under his sleeve, like he practiced with his wife during the conjugal visit when she brought it. It was so easy to smuggle it in; of course it wasn't picked up by the metal detector. Ralph had realized what a cakewalk it would be to smuggle drugs into the country. The United States had to do a better job protecting its borders; it was a question of integrity, national integrity. Ralph double-checked the packet under his shirt cuff and pulled up his pants.
'Ralph, you fall in?' asked the sheriff, who was standing by the door.
'Nah, I'm good to go.' Ralph flushed the toilet for show and opened the stall door.
54
Marta sat in Judy's apartment, sickened as the shaken associate told her the details of Mary's shooting. So Marta hadn't been able to keep the associates safe; they were both in it up to their eyeballs. And judging from the time Mary had been shot, it couldn't have been Bogosian that did it; he was in Long Beach Island around that time. Steere must have sent someone else. Someone who must be out there, waiting. Marta had set in motion something she couldn't control, jeopardizing them all. It had gone too far. She was spent after the long, exhausting night. It had to stop.
'Wait until you see Darning's notebook,' Judy was saying, from the stool at the kitchen counter. A small TV sat on the counter on low volume; the news covered the snowstorm continuously. A blue bag of Chips Ahoy sat open- mouthed next to the TV.
'No, I don't want to see it. I don't care about the notebook. I care about you and Mary.'
Judy blinked at the unexpected sentiment. Erect? 'The notebook could lead to why Steere killed Darning.'
'Not our concern,' Marta said. Her manner grew calm suddenly. She felt centered, more in control than when she was a control freak, ironically. 'We'll take the notebook and file to the police. Tell them we want protection, too.'
'Did you say 'file'?' Judy straightened up on the stool. 'What file?'
'It doesn't matter.' Marta hadn't told Judy anything about the buried treasure or Bogosian. It was safer if she didn't know. 'This has gotten way out of hand. Trust me.'
'Now you sound like Bennie.'
'Rosato? She knows about the notebook?'
'She's concerned about my ethics. I'm out of a job.'
Marta winced. She'd gotten one kid shot, and one ruined. 'We'll take the notebook and the file to the police. Leave the whole thing to them.'
'Is that the file you mean? That envelope there?' Judy eased off the stool and pointed to the manila envelope peeking from Marta's purse.
'People are dead. Mary's been shot. No file is worth that.'
'Mary's the reason I want to see that file. She wanted justice, and so do I. Don't you? Isn't that why you went after Steere in the first place?'
Marta felt a twinge. 'Not in the beginning, don't kid yourself. It was jealousy, not justice. My motives were impure.'
'So you did the right thing for the wrong reason. It doesn't make any difference now. Steere killed Darning. We have a notebook that could prove it. Now could I see that file?'
'It's too late.' Marta stood up, grabbed her purse, and zipped up her heavy coat. 'Let's go. You're in danger as long as you have that notebook. We both are.'
'We worked all night for this evidence. It's better than anything the cops have done. What's in the envelope? What kind of file?'
'Nothing. I don't even understand it. Maybe the cops will. Come on, pack up. Let's go.'
Judy folded her arms and stood her ground. 'Wait. I'll make a deal with you. Let me see that file. You look at the notebook. If we learn nothing in five minutes, we go straight to the cops. I promise.'
'No.'
'We've come this far. What have we got to lose? Five minutes?'
'I don't care. Get your coat. We're outta here.' Marta headed for the door, but Judy stepped in front and blocked her path to the door. The two lawyers stood toe to toe.
Marta laughed abruptly. 'You gonna hit me? Go ahead. I'm like a be-bop clown. I pop right up.'
Judy paused, unwilling to resort to striking Marta, though she'd fantasized about it during the trial.
'Excellent choice.' Marta sidestepped the associate and headed to the door. 'Get your coat, kiddo.'
'I don't think so,' Judy called after her. 'I won't go with you unless you give me the five minutes. If you go to the cops now, you go alone. Without me or the notebook.'
Marta stopped in her tracks and turned around, incredulous. 'Where did you learn shit like that?'
'From the master, of course,' Judy answered, with a gap-toothed grin.
