Dead Ringer

more than qualified, and we can get the job done for a fraction of their cost because we’re smaller. We were very pleased that Robert selected us from among all the class-action counsel in the suit.”

“I’ll say. My corporate lawyer says that the roster reads like a who’s who of class-action lawyers. Linette, Brenstein, Quinones, and a man named Kerpov, I think. My lawyer did some asking around, and he referred me to Bill Linette.”

Bennie almost gagged on the irony, considering the steak knife still in her purse. She swallowed hard, relieved she hadn’t had the chance to brief the associates on what she’d learned about Linette’s dinner last night. They were too young to have developed a poker face. She said evenly:

“Bill Linette is a very qualified lawyer, Mort. I’m sure he’d serve FitCo with skill and vigor.”

“That’s not what he says about you.”

“Excuse me?”

“He said that you had no business representing a plaintiff in any class action. That it was malpractice for you to represent Robert, or to try to assume a leadership role in the lawsuit.”

Bennie blinked, at a momentary loss for words. Most lawyers wouldn’t trash others to get a client, but if the steak knife was any indication, unfair competition was the least of Bill Linette’s sins.

“Gimme a break!” somebody blurted out, and Bennie’s head snapped around. Judy Carrier, her cheeks as pink as her hair, had turned to address Abrams. “That’s funny that he said that, considering that he was here trying to hire Bennie this morning, and that he wants to buy the whole damn law-”

“Carrier!” Bennie jumped in, alarmed. “That really won’t be necessary.”

“Well, Jeez, boss!” Carrier protested. “It’s just absurd to let him get away with that!”

Murphy piped up, “Really, it’s not true! We can do as good a job as-”

“Ladies, that’s enough,” Bennie said firmly, rising at the head of the table, which seemed to shut the associates up. “I know you both mean well, but we don’t play that here. Bill Linette can say whatever he wants, it makes no difference to us. We are professionals here, even if we did forget about the coffee.”

“Okay,” Carrier answered with a teenager’s huff, and Murphy folded her skinny arms, simmering in redheaded silence.

“Good. Fine.” Bennie eased back into her seat and looked at Abrams. “Sorry, we are definitely feeling a little raw today.”

“I see that,” Abrams said, and faced the associates. “Judy, Anne, I gotta tell you, in my opinion, there’s nothing wrong with a little team spirit. I’d be pissed if anybody talked that way about FitCo. I know how good our company is, and I’m proud of it.”

“Thanks,” Carrier said gratefully, and Murphy nodded.

Abrams turned back to Bennie. “Please, don’t feel like you have to apologize for feeling bad today. If I ever got murdered, I’d like my lawyer to feel sad the next day. I’m sorry if I offended you or your associates. I probably shouldn’t have mentioned what Bill said anyway. I couldn’t help wondering what your response would be.”

“Well, you just got it,” Bennie answered with a smile. She liked his honesty, and he seemed to be loosening up. She was guessing he had baby birds, too. “And for the record, I disagree with his assessment. We may be inexperienced in class-action law, but we’re smarter than we look, and we work hard here.”

Abrams smiled gently. “For what it’s worth, I wouldn’t take what Linette said to heart. He was well into a few drinks when he said it, and it was probably the scotch talking.”

Scotch. Bennie flashed to Dante saying, Mr. Linette likes to have his after-dinner drinks. Always picks a nice malt. She played the strangest hunch. “Mort, when did Linette say this about me?”

“I shouldn’t have said anything-”

“No, it’s okay, but when did he say it?” She had assumed they’d met in Linette’s office, but maybe not. “Was it last night by any chance?”

“Yes.”

“At the Palm?”

Abrams looked mildly surprised. “Why, yes.”

Bingo! “You had dinner last night at the Palm, with Linette?”

“Yes. We’ve been looking for representation since we heard about the lawsuit. We wanted to interview him about representing us, and he took me and my controller out to dinner.”

So it wasn’t Quinones and Kerpov at dinner with Linette last night. It was Abrams and his controller.

Bennie’s thoughts raced ahead. It made sense. Everything was churning in the class action. “What time did you leave the restaurant?” The associates shifted in their seats, but mercifully kept their mouths shut.

“About eight-thirty,” Abrams answered, beginning to be puzzled, but Bennie was on a tear. She didn’t care if she lost the client if she could get Robert’s murderer.

“Did you all leave together? You, Bill, and your controller?”

“No, I left with my controller. Our car was in valet, and Bill had to go back to the office, so he walked.” Abrams was looking at Bennie as if she were nuts. “Does this matter?”

Linette had left alone. “Not really,” she answered quickly. She didn’t want Abrams to go blabbing to Linette that she knew about him being at the Palm. “I’m asking because I read in the newspaper that Robert might have had dinner last night at the Palm.”

“Everybody eats there. Most businessmen I know, anyway. It’s the best steakhouse in Center City.”

“I know, it’s just a coincidence, but I was just wondering if you or Bill ran into him there.”

“No, I didn’t even see him, and I have no idea if Bill did.”

But Robert and Mayer were sitting in the window. “It’s odd that you didn’t see Robert when you first went in. He was sitting in one of the windows in front, right near the main entrance.”

“How do you know that?”

Indeed. “I think I read it, or somebody told me.”

“Oh well, we didn’t go in through the main entrance. We drove into the valet, and that’s on the side. We went in the side door, and through the Hyatt.”

My God. So it was possible. Linette could have done it, even himself. He had the motive, the opportunity, and the knife. And who knew what his dark side was like? “Oh well, let’s not dwell on it. How can I help you make your representation decision? Feel free to ask me anything about our firm.”

“I’m wondering if you currently have any clients in the class, since Robert’s death.”

“No, I don’t.” Bennie let it sit there. She wasn’t about to make it up, nor was she about to add, I don’t have many clients at all. “Why do you ask?”

“I was concerned that since FitCo isn’t as big a company as some of the others, it might not get much attention if we went with one of the other firms, like Bill’s, for example. I think he’d be too wrapped up with Herman Mayer’s company to take us seriously. Herman can be a squeaky wheel, and Linette has lots of other matters, too.”

“I see. That wouldn’t be a problem here.” We have no other clients. Then Bennie thought for a moment. Maybe she could get more info if she was a little smoother. “You definitely have Herman’s number.”

“I do, and that’s part of my concern.” Abrams’s face darkened. “Can’t say I’m a fan.”

Who is? “Do I need to know why?”

“It’s probably silly,” Abrams said with a sigh. “It might even be prejudice. But my background is Jewish. We lost my aunt and uncle during the Holocaust, in Theresienstadt. Herman’s company was founded during the war, and I have a problem with that. My parents still won’t buy a BMW or a Volkswagen.”

“So you don’t necessarily want to be at the same firm that Mayer is,” Bennie said, without judgment. She was learning that history died hard. “Well, if you decide to go with us, I think we’d make a good fit.”

“I think we would too,” Abrams said, rising. He took a second to brush down his neat pleated pants. “I’d like to think it over, if I may. Take a look at the other firms, too.”

“That makes sense.” Bennie rose with him, her feelings mixed. His tone didn’t sound warm enough to go their way, but she couldn’t stop thinking about Linette. Still, she’d be crazy to let Abrams go. “Mort, feel free to come back to us another day, when we’re more ourselves.”

“I will,” Abrams said. He bid the associates good-bye, then let Bennie walk him out. She put him into the