Dead Ringer

Eek. And she’d brushed her hair and moussed it back into a sleek, if wavy, ponytail, which was disguise enough for the present.

She’d channeled the remainder of last night’s angst into work, drafting a discovery, interrogatories, and document requests in support of St. Amien. She had to get this case-and this client-back on track. She’d called St. Amien’s office last night, hoping to explain that pesky felony arrest on the street, but he hadn’t returned her calls. Concerned, she’d E-mailed him and asked him to meet her today, but he hadn’t responded. He wasn’t the E-mail type, so she’d assume she wasn’t fired and go forward. Asserting his legal interests was the best way to keep him happy, and Bennie was coming out slugging. She swiveled her desk chair to her computer keyboard and opened the file for the draft discovery on the screen, then reviewed it carefully, putting on the finishing touches.

Bennie read the interrogatories, which were one of the better sets she’d written, and hit the Print icon with satisfaction. Usually when she drafted discovery she’d anticipate striking fear into the heart of the opposition, but this time she was thinking about giving a cardiac to her co-counsel. She refused to let Linette and his posse run all over her. She had to get the upper hand on becoming lead counsel, and she knew just how to do it. She imagined Linette’s ruddy face when he got her papers-and the other trick she had up her very stylish sleeve-which she would set in motion right now.

She hit a button on her computer and summoned onto the screen a fresh white sheet of computer paper. She was supposed to be a maverick; she’d start acting like one. She tapped away on the keyboard. She couldn’t keep playing nice with Linette, attending meetings that he ran, at his office, on his agenda. His was a closed club and they’d never let her in. Good girls didn’t get to be lead counsel. She’d take this battle straight to the top. There was only one place to get justice, and it wasn’t from a lawyer.

She had almost finished when Mary DiNunzio stuck a head inside her door, reminding Bennie of a turtle peeking out of its shell. “Bennie, can I ask you a dumb question?”

Bennie looked up from her computer with a reflexive frown. “DiNunzio, could you sell yourself any shorter? Don’t ever begin a conversation that way.” Her tone was unnecessarily harsh, but she was in high maverick mode. Unfortunately, it had the effect of driving the associate deeper into her shell.

“Okay. Sorry. Forget it.” DiNunzio’s head retracted. “I’ll come back when you’re not busy.”

“No!” Bennie shouted, then got up and went to the door in time to catch her. “DiNunzio, come back here.” She tried to change her tone from ballbuster to kindergarten teacher, but it had been a long night. “Please, come back here.”

“Okay.” DiNunzio turned and came back slowly in her conservative print dress, with its high neck and thin leather belt. Either the associate dressed kind of retro or everything old was new again, but Bennie didn’t care. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just don’t want you to be so wimpy.”

“Sorry.”

Bennie smiled. “Stop apologizing for yourself. Don’t be such a good girl. You want to be lead counsel someday, don’t you? You’re tougher than this, aren’t you?”

“In my head, I am. But then it disappears when it goes outside.”

“Let’s give you a lesson. You go over there and sit in my seat, at my desk.” Bennie gave the associate a starter shove that propelled her into the office, where she walked around the desk and sat miserably down. “Watch me, DiNunzio. This is how you approach me in my office from now on.” Bennie cleared her throat, strode to her own office door, and gave it a stiff rap. “Bennie, you gotta minute?” she asked in a rapid-fire cadence that took the answer for granted.

“Uh, yes. I mean, bring it!”

“Say no, and say it exactly how I would.”

“No!” DiNunzio shouted, which Bennie overlooked.

“This is an important question. I have to speak with you, right now.” Bennie barged into her own office and took the seat opposite the associate, whose freshly made-up eyes flared with mild alarm. “Get it? See what I’m doing? How I’m acting?”

“Rude?”

“No, in control. Fueled by testosterone.”

DiNunzio snorted. “I forgot my injection.”

“Pretend. Imagine.”

“I can’t. I went to Catholic school.”

Bennie thought a minute. “Then act caffeinated. It’s basically the same thing.”

DiNunzio looked dubious.

“Channel Starbucks, and ask me what you came in to ask me.”

DiNunzio cleared her throat. In a strong voice she asked, “Can I go to Washington for Brandolini?”

“No.”

DiNunzio blinked. “Oh.”

“You just going to take no for an answer?”

“Well, yes. You’re the boss, and I don’t have a choice.”

“Bullshit! You have a good reason to go to D.C., don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve never asked to go on a business trip before, have you?”

“No.”

“In fact, this would be your very first one, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, fight for it. Gimme your best argument. Keep it short. People like short.”

DiNunzio squared her shoulders behind the desk. “I have to go to Washington. It’s my job.”

“Not that short.”

DiNunzio inhaled deeply. “It’s the only way I can find out what happened to Amadeo Brandolini. The records of his internment are there, in the War Department files in College Park, Maryland. I requested them under the Freedom of Information Act, but I have to wait four months unless I want to go there and see them for myself. I know it’s a bad time to be leaving the office, but I can’t wait that long, so I have to go.”

“Well done.” Bennie felt a guilty twinge. “But I don’t have the money to send you right now.”

“I’ll pay myself.”

Ouch. “You shouldn’t have to do that.”

“Why not? It’s my client and I can invest in it, same as you.”

Yowza. “I’ll reimburse you. How long will you be gone?”

“Two days.”

“Fine. You have my permission.”

“Who asked you?” DiNunzio shot back, and Bennie hid her smile, just as the telephone started ringing.

It was St. Amien. “Benedetta. I’m sorry to be returning your call so late. I had a minor emergency to deal with. My son.”

“Nothing serious I hope.”

“He needs money, naturellement. For clothes, food, CDs, books. This week here, that week there. You have no children, am I correct?”

“None without fur.”

“Excellent. Keep it that way. Since my wife passed away, Julien has been nothing but trouble. She had a special way with him, which I seem to lack.” St. Amien paused, and Bennie could hear the softest whoosh. He must be smoking his stinky cigarettes. “But enough of that. How are you, and what happened with the police yesterday? Judy called to let me know you were all right and that it was a case of mistaken identity. But what a scene that was! And they have you on TV, all over the news I see!”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Bennie said, but she had already decided to level with him. “My twin sister is back in town, making trouble. But don’t worry about it. I can deal with her.”

“A twin! How wonderful. You are identical?”

“Yes.”

“And she is the black sheep?”

Bennie smiled. A quaint notion. “This flock ain’t that uniform, Robert.”