Courting Trouble

“This is what I want.” Rafferty turned and pointed a finger at Anne. “No more amateur cop, you. We got the resources. We got the expertise. We got a homicide fugitive squad, joint with the Feds, and they’re all over it. We link up with all the states, all the networks. We’re the cops, you’re not, get it? So, no more, young lady!”

“Agreed.” Anne didn’t add, But I flushed him out with a bunch of flowers.

“No running around, no funny hats, no happy horseshit, understand?” The detective shifted closer, and his pantleg slid up, giving Anne a glimpse of an ankle holster holding a dark-handled revolver. A .38 caliber Smith & Wesson, not a knock-off. She wished she had one of those babies, but knew it wasn’t the right thought at this moment.

“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.”