Lisa Scottoline - Think Twice

“So what?” Mary went to the door, her chest tightening with impatience.

“So let’s think of something that would test her. A case we had, a client we loved or hated, or a point of law. There are so many possibilities.” Judy’s eyes lit up, but Mary couldn’t join her enthusiasm, which suddenly seemed childish.

“It’s not a game.”

“I know that. I didn’t mean it that way.” Judy’s forehead creased. “Look, it’s a good idea. We should think of some reference that only Bennie would know, then we wait for the chance to spring it on her and see if she knows what we’re talking about. If she does, it’s Bennie. If she doesn’t, it’s Alice.”

“I don’t have time to do that, and I don’t want to.” Mary put her hand on the doorknob. “Hasn’t Bennie been through enough? Her sister is terrorizing her and her dog is dead. Cut her a break.”

Judy looked mystified. “Why are you acting so weird?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Judy, really!” Mary threw up her hands. “There are real clients out there that we have to sign and real dollars we have to bring in. All of us.”

“Whoa. You’ve been drinking the Kool-Aid.” Judy edged back, frowning, and Mary felt stung.

“That’s not fair.”

“Did you ever think that if she’s Alice, she’s co-opted you? All those compliments she’s dropping, like ‘great idea’ this and ‘great idea’ that? She doesn’t really mean it.”

“Thanks.” Mary started to go, but Judy touched her arm, her face reddening.

“I’m sorry. I’m not saying you don’t deserve it, I’m saying she could be manipulating you, if she’s Alice.”

“No, she’s not. She’s Bennie.”

“You said so yourself, on the phone, how strange it was that she complimented you. Then she made you a partner, and overnight, you got so far on her side, you won’t even consider there’s another side.”

“On this, there’s only one side,” Mary shot back, and Judy recoiled, confused.

“Really?”

“Yes,” Mary answered, and through the open door she could hear Bennie greeting the Rexco people in the lobby. “I really have to go.”

“Okay, whatever. Go.”

Mary walked out, feeling a wrench in her chest. Wondering if she were leaving her best friend, as well as her boyfriend, behind.

Bennie followed Tiffany into a basement apartment that reeked of stale cigarette smoke. The living room, stifling and windowless, contained a worn brown couch, a plaid fabric chair, and an old TV. A wrinkled Bon Jovi poster hung over a café table that held a black laptop, magazines, and gum wrappers. Empty glasses and full ashtrays dotted cheap end tables.

“Sorry it’s so hot.” Tiffany climbed up on the couch and turned on an air conditioner installed into the wall, then jumped down, with a grin. “Better, huh?”

“Yes, good.”

“It’ll be cold fast, you’ll see. I got Bud Light, okay?”

“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.”

Oh no. “Marla, this is me, Bennie. We don’t have a password on this account. We talk on the phone all the time about my accounts.”

“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.”