Dead Ringer

“Okay, thanks. Ask him to hold while I kill my associates.” Bennie pressed off the intercom and turned to the offenders. “Girls, leave my office and get back to work. Do legal work, since we’re back on the class action. Leave Linette alone. And leave me alone.”

“Okay.” Carrier got up, obviously disappointed, and Murphy went after her, taking her coffee.

“Making a big mistake, Bennie.”

“Right. See ya. Bye.” Bennie hit the flashing light on her phone. “Sam, before you tell me anything, let me tell you something. I’m back in business. St. Amien’s son wants to continue the case.”

“Wonderful, but I’m not calling about money. I’m calling about your friend David. Did you get my envelope? I had it hand delivered.”

“Uh, wait.” Bennie fished through the mail that Marshall had given her, then gave up. “What’s it say?”

“Read it. I would have faxed it to you, but the photo came out too black.”

“Hang on a minute.” Bennie reached for the manila envelope with the red hand-delivery stamp from Grun, and slipped her hand inside. “Gimme the sneak preview.”

“Your bodyguard David has a past you should know about.”

“What?” Bennie pulled out the piece of paper from the envelope. It was a photocopied clipping from a local newspaper in California. The headline read, SEAL INSTRUCTOR CHARGED IN CADET’S DEATH, and next to it was a small head shot of David, mostly obscured by the darkness of the fax. She could recognize his eyes and mouth, pixilated, in inky black-and-white dots.

Oh my God. Bennie’s heart stopped as she read the brief paragraph:

David R. Holland was indicted today in the death of Cadet John Wellington, 23, of Encino, who died Monday morning, during training of the Navy SEALs. Cadet Wellington succumbed to a heart attack during one of the exercises supervised by Instructor Holland, comprising so-called “Hell Week.” Instructor Holland, who served as Assistant Director of the training facility, was suspended pending a military hearing on the charges. The hearing is set for March 3.

“Bennie, you there? He didn’t tell you that, did he?” Sam asked, his tone softer.

“No.” Bennie sighed.

“I told you, people don’t just take a break from the SEALs.”

“I guess not.” Bennie reread the article. The date on the newspaper was this year. “It says his hearing is March third. That was last month. Do you know what happened?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Maybe he was found innocent, or whatever they do in military trials.”

“Maybe he was, but maybe he wasn’t. And maybe there’s been a continuance and we don’t know yet. It doesn’t matter. It’s a material fact, and he omitted it.”

Bennie couldn’t deny it. “How did you find the article? Were there others?”

“I had a kid here do a Lexis search and order the original from the paper’s online archives. I knew you had to see it to believe it. This is all she came up with, and the kid’s a whip.”

Bennie’s gaze rested on the photo, a head shot of David in a stiff white cap. Under the photo the caption read, CAPT. DAVID HOLLAND.

“Bennie, I gotta go. I’m sorry to leave you with this. If you want to call me, call anytime. But I think this is clear. I don’t trust this guy and I don’t think you should let him protect you. You don’t need him. I already called a personal-security firm and told them to send me the bill. The name’s Guardian something, and they’re gonna call you. Talk to you later, honey.”

“Bye,” she said, and hung up the phone. Looking at the picture until the intercom started buzzing again.

31

Bennie, Mort Abrams here.”

“Yo, Mort, how you doin’?” Bennie couldn’t stop looking at the photo of David. It was just too surprising. She never would have thought he could be involved in anything like this. The death of a twenty-three-year-old.

“Bennie, you there?”

Get over it. “Mort, yes. Sorry, it’s hectic here today.”

“I gather. The cops caught that animal who killed Robert, I hear. And that banker, too. I bet you’re happy.”

“Yes, right.” Bennie folded the article and slipped it under her mail. She couldn’t concentrate with the headline staring at her. “How can I help you, Mort?”

“Well, I’m calling with good news. I’ve decided to go with your firm, for representation in the class action.”

Really? “Really! How wonderful. That’s great news. Thank you so much for your confidence in us.” Bennie struggled to keep the surprise from her voice, but she was more puzzled than anything else. She had never done less to get a client. Maybe she should have been doing less all along, like reverse psychology. Trash your clients, so they come running. You’ll get clients with intimacy issues, but business is business.

“I look forward to our working together, Bennie. Now, when can you come out to our facility to meet the rest of my team and see the place? We’ll give you the grand tour of FitCo. Our lunchroom is great too.”

“Uh, well.” Bennie couldn’t begin to deal with it. “Here’s what I’d suggest, if it’s okay with you. Send me any paper and documents that arguably pertain to the suit. All the stuff on your English sub, and the contract you lost.”

“Key Medical, Inc.”

“Of course. I’ll review the file as soon as I get it, then come out and meet with you and the gang. This way I won’t waste your time, or your staff’s, asking questions I can answer myself.”

“Okay, good deal.” Abrams sounded cheered. “And payment, how do we work that?”

“I’ll send you a fee agreement for your signature. I work on standard contingency, but a small retainer could get us rolling. Say five thousand dollars?”

“That’s doable. Send me the agreement, I’ll sign it and send it back with a check.”

“Great, Mort. Appreciate it.” Bennie couldn’t believe this. Two days ago she would have been deliriously happy at the cash. Now she could barely get her act together.

“I’ll get you those papers right away.”

“Looking forward to it.” They said corporate good-byes, and Bennie exhaled audibly the moment she hung up the phone. She should have been happy, but it was impossible.

David. She had trusted him, but he hadn’t told her everything. Still. He had watched over her. Taken care of her. Seen to it that she had food and rest. And he’d given her good advice last night. He couldn’t have been in cahoots with Alice on anything. Thanks to him, she’d felt great when she’d gotten up today, and great when she’d come in. Her gaze fell on the edge of the article, sticking stubbornly from her mail, and she knew just what to do with it. Tuck it back inside. So she did.

It left her facing a flock of pink message slips, with CoreMed’s on top. She hadn’t focused on it before, at the reception desk. She slid out the message, and there were others stuck to it that she hadn’t seen. Total Lenz of Korea. Reiss, Inc. Tumflex. She didn’t know any of these names, but they sure sounded like lens manufacturers. They had to be potential class members. They didn’t sound like debt consolidators.

Bennie arranged the phone messages on her desk, with Julien St. Amien’s on top. He was her biggest and best client ever, and if the others were new business too, she had better stop whining and pay attention. Work had always focused her. Seen her through, even when all else failed. She’d rested last night, but that was then. And this was now. It was time to get on the horn. She picked up the receiver and punched in the number.

“Julien?” she asked when a man’s voice picked up, then the accent registered. “Georges?”

“Yes, this is Bennie? How are you, Bennie?”

“Fine, thanks.” A tide of guilt washed over her. “I’m so sorry I didn’t call you last night after I went to the police. I spoke with Detective Needleman and saw the suspect in Robert’s murder.”

“His name is Ronald Johnson, eh? Detective Needleman says he’s a Nazi type, a skinhead. He belongs to a