“Fine.” Bennie didn’t thank her, because Alice wouldn’t have.
“Sit down, make yourself comfortable. Want a sandwich, too? I got ham and cheese, okay?”
“Fine.” Bennie sat down on the couch, taking a load off her feet, which throbbed, dirty, swollen, and cut. Her hand ached from hitting the guard. “You got any Advil?”
“Yep, sure. How’d you get so busted up?”
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
“Ha!” Tiffany laughed too loudly, as if she were sucking up, and Bennie wondered why.
“I could use some Band-Aids or gauze, for my feet.”
“I got that. I even have the expensive kind, with the goop.” Tiffany scurried out of the room. “Be right back.”
The air conditioner rattled away, and Bennie felt like herself again, or at least, the new normal. She suppressed thoughts of Grady, Bear, and the associates, and focused on Alice. If the girl wanted to take over her life, she might be able to do it for a short while, with all the ID, checkbooks, and house keys. She probably still had the Lexus, too. But Bennie didn’t understand why. Alice couldn’t fake being a lawyer for long and she wouldn’t want to, because that was work. The only thing the girl really cared about was money.
Bennie rose, went to the laptop, cleared the clutter, and sat down. She palmed the mouse as best as she could, clicked to the Internet, and typed in USABank.com. The bank’s splash page came on, and she logged in with her username and password. The screen changed with a message that read, Invalid username and password. She hoped it was a typo, then retyped her username and password. The screen changed again, and she got the same error message. She typed in the information one more time. The new screen read, Sorry, you have been locked out of this account. Please contact customer service to reset your password.
She put it together, keeping a lid on her fears. Alice must have found the passwords in the Rolodex and gained access to the bank accounts. Bennie ran the numbers in her head. She kept roughly three million dollars liquid, more than usual, but sensible given the economy, and she had a substantial retirement account which couldn’t be liquidated easily. Alice could do anything she wanted with the money, including withdraw or move it, but she wouldn’t have much time, now that Bennie was back.
“You got a cell phone?” she called out to the kitchen.
“Yeah, sure.” Tiffany returned with a can of beer, and a white-bread sandwich on a flimsy paper plate. She set the food on the beat-up coffee table and pulled a cell phone from her pocket, handing it over. “Be my guest. I’ll get you the Advil and the Band-Aids, I couldn’t carry it all.”
“It can wait.” Bennie rose and flipped open the phone. “Can I have some privacy?”
“Sure, I’ll go outside, catch a smoke or somethin’.” Tiffany fetched her purse and left the apartment as Bennie pressed in the phone number for Marla Stone, her contact at USABank.
“Hello, Marla? It’s Bennie Rosato.”
“Oh, hello.” Marla sounded cold and distant. “I didn’t recognize the phone number.”
“It’s not my phone and-”
“As you know, I can’t discuss this account with you over the phone, unless you send me an email with written authorization and the password.”
“I’m sorry, I cannot discuss your account with you without email authorization and password.”
“Marla, we didn’t agree to anything. My sister Alice is impersonating me. You’ve been dealing with her, not me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Marla, this really is Bennie. I know-” Suddenly the line went dead, and she redialed. The phone rang and rang, but the call wasn’t answered. She had to try another tack. She called information for the main number of the bank, let the call connect, and asked the operator for the head of private banking. “I need to speak with Russ Baxter, please,” she said. “This is Bennie Rosato.”
“I’m sorry, but he’s on vacation this week.”
“Who else can I speak to? I have an emergency problem with my account. My sister is gaining unauthorized access-”
“Ms. Rosato, I have instructions to transfer all calls regarding your accounts to Marla Stone. Would you like to speak with her?”
“I’ve already spoken with Marla and she hasn’t been able to help. Who does Baxter report to?”
“Mr. Baxter heads our private banking unit. We all report to him.”
“Who’s the president of the bank, then? I met him once at a benefit. Isn’t his name Ron Engel?”
“I’m sorry.” The operator paused. “I have been instructed that if you call, to transfer you to Marla and only to Marla.”
Bennie hung up, her thoughts racing. Alice must not have emptied her accounts yet, because she’d be gone if she had. It would probably take her two or three days to get that accomplished, and Bennie had to stop her, but was stumped. She couldn’t go to the cops or the bank. She couldn’t rely on the law for justice. She was on her own. If Alice was crime, then Bennie was punishment.
Suddenly Tiffany opened the door and walked inside, wreathed in cigarette smoke. “Sorry, you done your call?”
“Sure.” Bennie handed her back the phone.
“Thanks.” Tiffany flopped onto the couch, crossing slim legs, both with ankle tattoos of blue butterflies. “I’m surprised to see you on the run, Al. I heard you got a regular job, and all. You really come up in the world since the joint.”
“I know, right?” Bennie picked up her can of beer, popped the top, and took an icy-cold swig, sitting down. She wanted to keep Tiffany talking because more information might help. “It sucked, inside, huh?”
“Totally. ’Course you ran the show, even then. I was happy for you when you got off on that murder rap. You really didn’t do it, huh?”
“I didn’t. Imagine that.”
“Go figure.” Tiffany laughed. “I went by the shop and saw Caitlin, and she asked me had I seen you. She said Kendra didn’t see you and you didn’t come by the shop, neither. Said she was lookin’ for you all week, callin’ for you everywhere. Didn’t she call you?”
“Don’t know.” Bennie wolfed down her sandwich. “I left my cell somewhere. That’s why I needed yours.”
“I can take you to see Caitlin at the shop. You know how she is. High maintenance.”
“Good.”
Tiffany hesitated. “Listen, Al, I would really love to come work for you. I swear, I could do a good job. You got Caitlin at the shop and Kendra at the gym, but you can have me at the lunch truck. Who cares where the money comes from? It’s all green.”
“How do you see yourself, working for me?”
“Easy. You’d be surprised at how many guys come to the truck, looking to score. Construction guys, painters, masons, all the trades. Men need Oxys, too. Not just housewives.”
“You think?”
“Sure! The guys who come to me, they got aches and pains, from real work. They talk about it all the time, rotator cuff this, pulled whatever, that. You think they can’t use a Vike or an Oxy? They can, sure as shit. None of ’em sleep that good. They need Ambien, Xanax, whatever. I could make you a killing.”
Bennie listened, drawing conclusions on the fly. Alice and her cop boyfriend used to run a drug business, selling crack through boxers’ girlfriends out of a boxing gym. She had sworn to Bennie that she’d changed, but her only change had been to sell prescription drugs, where the addicts were better-dressed.
“Will you think about it? Caitlin said no, but she’s not the boss. So, will you?”
“Yes.” Bennie rose. She had to get to Alice, and now she had a next step. “Lemme grab a quick shower before we go see Caitlin.”
“Sure.” Tiffany got up. “I’ll show you the bathroom. Advil and Band-Aids are there, too. Anything else I can get you?”
“Yes, fresh clothes, shoes, and a coupla bucks.”
