Dead Ringer

“The other night, remember? I noticed. Now go inside your house, get your trash, and come back out with Bear and switch bags.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s trash day. And that white bag has presents for you.”

“Presents?”

“Make the switch quickly. Pretend you forgot something you had to throw out. Can you do that?”

“Watch.” Bennie reached her front door, unlocked it, and went inside, locking the door. Then she went to the kitchen with her puzzled retriever, grabbed her white kitchen bag from under the sink, unlocked the door, and went outside with it to the trash bag. Bear was loving the new game, wagging his tail. “Impressed yet? Bear is.”

“Very.”

“Can I handle a trash bag or what?” She picked up the new trash bag and set the old one down in its place, then hurried back inside with Bear, who began jumping up on her as soon as she locked the door. Whatever was in there, he wanted it. “What’s in this bag, David?”

“Open it.”

Bennie set it down on the coffee table and opened the yellow tape, instantly releasing the truly gourmet smell of oregano and processed meats. She looked inside. Three wrapped hoagies leaked olive oil through their white paper, and they rested on top of loose red apples, huge Jaffa oranges, and a plastic bag of green grapes. There was even a sealed container of cole slaw and a jar of dill pickle chips. “Wow!”

“Dessert’s on the bottom.”

“Really?” She dug deeper to a cellophane pack of Oreos, a bag of Pepperidge Farm chocolate chips, a megasize Snickers bar, a half gallon of milk, and a few cans of Coke. It was Thanksgiving in a bag, and Bennie hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she saw it. “This is amazing! Where did you get all this stuff?”

“The deli, when you were inside St. Amien’s.”

“When did you put it outside?”

“I didn’t, I paid a little kid to do it. I’m taking no chances.”

“This is great!” Bennie felt overwhelmed. It was such a thoughtful thing to do, and somehow so sexy. What do women want? Someone else to go food shopping. “Thank you so much.”

“There’s Milk-Bones for the boy, too. So. You got dinner, and you’re safe inside. Don’t answer the door, not for anything or anybody. If the doorbell rings, call 911 right away. Don’t even worry if it’s a false alarm, call them anyway. Then call me.”

“Where will you be?”

“I’ll stay here awhile, and when I’m sure it’s okay, I’ll go home. I want you to eat well, go to sleep, safe until the morning. Call me when you get up, and we’ll start over.”

Bennie swallowed. So that was it? Okay, of course that was it. Right? They hardly knew each other. What did she think was going to happen? “David, what’s going to happen?”

“You’re going to get through this. We’re going to catch Alice. And it will all be over.”

“And then?”

“I’ll come over and you’ll make me coffee. And I’ll stay. If you want.”

Bennie felt her toes curl. “I think I want. I mean, I definitely want.”

“Hold that thought. And tell me good night.”

“Good night, David,” Bennie said, with more regret than she wanted to admit.

30

Bennie felt refreshed and energized when she got off the elevator on her floor. She’d slept like a baby, she’d eaten a provolone hoagie for breakfast, and she was a little in love with her surveillance, who had ensured her safety all the way into work.

She strode through the reception area in a crisp un-Bennie-like suit of pressed white linen. She’d slicked her blond hair into a neat French twist and she’d even smeared on pink lip gloss and brownish eyeliner. She carried her purse, her briefcase, and a box of Krispy Kremes. She was feeling excellent, especially for a murder target. In life, you have to take the bad with the good.

“What’s up with you, girl?” Marshall asked with a smile, getting up slowly from behind the reception desk, in a bright yellow maternity dress. At her size, it looked roughly like the sun rising at dawn.

“Marshall, are you feeling okay?” she asked, vaguely alarmed. I mean, you’re a planet.

“I’m fine. The doctor says everything is okay, and I should keep coming to work, that the activity is good for me and the baby. Here’s your mail and a hand delivery from Sam.” Marshall handed Bennie a huge stack of messages and mail. “Enough about me, let’s talk about you. What are you so happy about? Are you wearing makeup?”

“It’s my disguise. I’m back in control of my life, Marshall. Ain’t nobody happy if Mama ain’t happy.”

“Huh?”

“You never heard that? I’m fighting back, and finally winning.” Bennie skipped through the phone messages, reading them aloud. “Sam, Julien, reporter, reporter, CoreMed-whoever that is-and DiNunzio, good. What’s new with DiNunzio?”

“She thinks she’ll finish today, at the library in Washington. She’s coming home a day early, on an afternoon train.”

“Good.” Bennie looked at the last message. “Mort Abrams,” she said, and did a double take. “Abrams? That’s very exciting. They’re all very exciting. And it’s time to celebrate.” She touched Marshall on the shoulder. “Come into my office. We’re having a little party.”

“We are?”

“Yep.” Bennie charged ahead, bearing her tray of hot glazed doughnuts, and she knew the smell would waft through the office and work its Krispy Kreme magic. “Carrier! Murphy! Breakfast in my office! I’ve been cooking all morning!”

“Huh? What?” Heads popped out of their offices, and the associates hurried after Bennie and Marshall. They all piled in, making hot coffee and passing around steamy doughnuts stuck to plates of legal pads. In no time, fresh coffee and hot pastry scented the room and they all gathered around the conference table with hot mugs and sugar highs.

Bennie raised her mug of coffee. “A toast to you, ladies. To your faith and hard work, and to DiNunzio, who will be home tonight! Our wonderful news is that Rosato amp; Associates is back in business! Julien St. Amien intends to continue the class action!”

“Yes!” Carrier said, setting down her coffee to throw her arms into the air, signaling a touchdown. She had on her favorite denim smock, with a hot pink T-shirt that matched her hair. “That’s so great!”

“Yeah!” Murphy hollered beside her. She cut her usual curvy figure in a tan jersey that skimmed her skinny knees, and her hair swung long and free. She butter-churned her way across the room, shaking her cute tan butt. “Awesome!”

“Go, us!” Marshall clapped from her seat at the table, and Bennie raised a hand.

“Marshall, please don’t explode,” she said, and everyone laughed, applauding and boogying. When they finally settled down, Bennie filled in the details, including her trip to see the suspect at the Roundhouse and Julien’s decision to become a solo practitioner. Somehow Julien was what they wanted to talk about first. “I’m having him over, so you can show him what you do and talk him out of wanting to do it.”

“We can’t do that,” Carrier said, munching a doughnut. “We love it too much here. Every friggin’ minute.”

Murphy laughed. “Yeah. We can’t get enough, now that the long distance is back on.”

Bennie smiled, despite herself, and Marshall said, “Can I go back to work, Bennie? Somebody has to.”

“Sure, thanks. You gonna be okay to walk there? You need a hand?”

“More like a chairlift,” Marshall mumbled as she waddled out of the office.

Bennie clapped her hands together. “Okay, moving right along, we do have other business to attend to this morning. The cops have a suspect in Robert’s murder, which I think is totally bogus.”