William Bernhardt - Death Row

Alvin ’s brow wrinkled. “What’s happened to you? The Christina I knew was a serious career woman. She wouldn’t pass on a golden opportunity to move herself up in the world. Is he paying you that much?”

Christina suppressed a laugh. “No, that isn’t it.”

“Have you two got some kind of… thing going?”

“We’re just good friends.”

Hager spread his arms wide. “Then what?”

“I just-I-” What was she trying to say, anyway? Why had she stuck with Ben all this time? Why wasn’t she interested in moving onward and upward? She found herself utterly unable to explain it rationally. Was that because it wasn’t rational? “I like what I’m doing, Alvin. Where I’m doing it. I’m the person I want to be.”

Hager took a step back. “That’s fine. Don’t get defensive on me. Just trying to help.” He winked. “So where is this paragon of lawyering, anyway?”

She scanned the room. “There he is! I wonder how long he’s been here. Sorry, Alvin. Must dash.” She quickly crossed the room and grabbed Ben’s arm. “Thank goodness you’re here. I was trapped with Alvin Hager, of all people. Have you met anyone here?”

“I’ve met lots of people,” Ben replied. “Most of them annoying.”

“Yeah, well, you know what they say. Ninety-nine percent of the lawyers give the rest a bad name. But this soiree isn’t restricted to lawyers, you know. There are some real people here, too. All kinds of big shots. Potential clients.”

“Like who?”

Christina tugged her head to one side. “See the guy in the gray? Walt Helmerich, oil kingpin. The man he’s talking to? Chester Cadieux. Chairman of QuikTrip. I daresay he’s worth a few bucks.” She adjusted her gaze slightly to a strong-looking man with silver hair. “Robert Lorton. Tulsa World. Gordona Duca. Real estate. Major wheeler-dealer.”

“Who’s the guy they’re talking to? The redhead.”

Christina rolled her eyes. “Ben! Don’t you know anyone? He’s the most prominent one in the bunch.”

“You’re just saying that because he has red hair.”

“I’m saying it because it’s true. He could buy and sell the lot of them.”

“That kid? He’s what? Thirty?”

“He’s Peter Rothko, founder of the Burger Bliss fast-food chain.”

“He looks more like the top fry cook.”

“He owns the whole outfit. He’s a billionaire. Fortune 500. And insanely handsome. He’s got it all.” Her gaze softened. “Generally considered to be Tulsa ’s most eligible bachelor.”

Ben blinked. “I thought I was Tulsa ’s most eligible bachelor.”

“But of course you are. What was I thinking?”

Without warning, Ben lunged sideways and ducked behind her. “Hide me!”

“What on-?” Christina turned her gaze in the other direction. “Oh.”

Not ten feet from them, an attractive man in his early fifties strolled across the room jingling a glass. Some dark liquor or other, straight up. “Derek.”

“Damn right. Don’t move!”

“Ben… doesn’t this strike you as just a wee bit juvenile?”

“I don’t care if it is,” he hissed. “The man hates me, and the feeling is mutual. I don’t want to have a big scene.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“Easy for you to say. You didn’t have to work under him back at Raven.”

“Actually, I did.”

“Well, he didn’t fire you. You didn’t watch him become a federal judge just so he could humiliate you at every possible opportunity.”

“If you’ll recall, Ben, I was more than a little bit interested in that first trial you had before Judge Derek myself.”

“The man is venal, arrogant, and vicious,” Ben continued. “And he hates me. Just being in the same room with him gives me the shakes. I’m leaving.”

“Ben, you’re being ridiculous!”

“I don’t care if I am. This is a waste of time, anyway. I’m not the networking type.”

“Ben. I insist that you stay.”

“Insist away. Unless you’re packing handcuffs, I’m outta here.”

“Ben, as your partner, I demand that you stay put!”

“Oh, look! Alvin is coming back.”

Christina did an abrupt about-face. “Feets, do your stuff!”

When Ben passed through the front doors to his office, he found his staff engaged in a heated discussion.

“That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard,” said Jones, the office manager. “Everyone knows it was the Cubans. It was payback time.”

“Would you listen to me for just one minute?” Loving said. “I been readin’ about this for twenty years. It was the air force, man. They had a deal with the grays and they had to protect it.”

“Grays? As in space aliens?” Christina snickered. “I think it was the mob. Who else could bring off a hit like that?”

“You’re all nuts.” Jones pivoted around. “What do you think, Ben? Who killed JFK?”

Ben spread his arms. “Could it be… Lee Harvey Oswald?”

Jones rolled his eyes. Loving slapped his forehead. “Jeez, Ben. You are so gullible.”

“You’re right,” he replied. “I’ll believe anything.”

“I got some stuff you could read on this,” said Loving, their fridge-size investigator and resident conspiracy buff. “I could get it for you.”

“Business is slow,” Ben answered, “but, happily, not that slow.” He paused. Something in here smelled. “Christina, did you have the office fumigated again?”

“Yes. I found a spider.”

“Only one?”

“He was a monster.”

“ ’Bout the size of my pinkie nail,” Jones muttered.

“Even the little ones can be deadly,” she shot back.

“Christina, you’ve got to stop. All this pesticide is disgusting. Plus it’s bankrupting us.”

“Not that that takes much,” Jones said sotto voce.

“I’m sorry, Ben, but I can’t help it. I hate spiders.” She shuddered. “They totally creep me out.”

Well, Ben thought philosophically, Christina was a lot tougher than he was about most things. It was nice to know she had at least one weakness. “Anything going on here?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Christina answered. “You’ve got someone waiting for you in your office. A young woman.”

“Hey, hey, hey, Skipper,” Loving said, winking. “You got a little action goin’?”

“Not to my knowledge. Did you interview her, Christina?”

“I tried. She wants to talk to you.”

Ben’s head tilted slightly. That was odd. Christina was the empathetic one. Usually clients preferred to spill their guts to her. “Do you know who she is?”

“Oh, yes. I knew who she was the moment she came through the door. You will, too.” She looked at him levelly. “And you won’t believe it.”

With an invitation like that, how could he resist? “Let’s do it.”

Ben started toward his office, Christina close behind. He stopped at the third door on the right and pushed it open.

After he finished gaping, he stepped inside. Christina was right. He couldn’t believe it.

The cane leaning against her chair was a sure tip, not that Ben needed one. It hadn’t been that long, and she hadn’t changed that much.

“Miss Faulkner,” Ben said, offering her his hand. “This is a surprise.”

“I’ll bet it is,” she said, taking it. “And please call me Erin.” She cast a glance around Ben’s sparsely decorated office. “Did you ever consider maybe watering your plants?”

“Why? They’re all dead.” He dropped his briefcase on the desktop. Christina sat in one of the outer chairs. “ Erin, is this visit about a new matter, or… the previous one?”

“The same one, I’m afraid.” Her eyes didn’t make contact with his. “My family…”