William Bernhardt - Death Row

Now, Christina-there was someone who knew how to live life. He had no idea where she was tonight or what she was doing, but whatever it was, he knew she wasn’t bored and she wasn’t alone. Christina knew everyone, did everything. She had more friends than a politician. She was a member of every civic organization and social club. He could learn a lot from her.

So why didn’t he? Or better yet, why didn’t he join her?

Mmm. There were some mysteries even the great Ben Kincaid couldn’t solve.

Well, he didn’t have time to wallow around in self-pity. He had miles to go before he slept. Work he couldn’t put off. It was now or never for Ray Goldman. And never really did mean never.

Ten minutes later he arrived at the boardinghouse where he lived. The boardinghouse he now owned , courtesy of the legacy of the previous owner, Mrs. Marmelstein. Why were those cats swarming all over the place? Thank goodness Giselle can’t get out, he thought. Some of them looked like major ruffians. A pampered pussy like Giselle wouldn’t know what to make of them.

“Should we have this place sprayed?”

From her seat on the porch swing, Joni Singleton smiled. “For cats? I don’t think that’s legal, Benjy.”

“Too bad. How’s the house?”

“Fine. If I’m not mistaken, someone even paid their rent today.”

Wonders never cease. In addition to going to TU, Joni worked part-time as Ben’s handyman. Handyperson. Whatever. It was a perfect position for her. Especially perfect because Joni knew how to fix things, and Ben knew how to fix nothing. “Get everything taken care of?”

“Well, Mr. Perry’s toilet threw me for a loop, but after about two hours’ effort and a bucketful of parts from Home Depot, I think I’ve got that resolved. I rewired the electricity in the Silvermans’ apartment to avoid that circuit that always crashes. I even washed some windows.”

“You’re a wonder woman.”

“Well, yes.” Joni cupped her naturally curly black hair in the palm of her hand. She was in her early twenties, perfectly thin, and in a pair of blue jeans, Ben noted, she had never looked better. “Now that you mention it.”

“I do. May I also mention how spectacular you look these days? Have you been working out?”

Her face glowed. “Benjy, I can’t believe you actually noticed. Mother bought one of those machines she saw on an infomercial.”

Indeed. The same month she said she was too poor to make her rent. “And you use it?”

“Hey, it worked for Suzanne Somers. Speaking of which, are you still taking those martial-arts lessons? Going to the gym?”

“As a matter of fact. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I’m not sure, but I thought I detected just a hint of muscle tone.” She grabbed his arm and squeezed. “Yes, I did! I felt a muscle!”

Ben yanked his arm away. “Why do I think I’m being patronized?”

“Can’t imagine. You’re a handsome dude. By the way, handsome dude, I’m doing this short-story reading at TU next week, and I wondered if you knew a handsome dude who would like to be my escort.”

“I don’t know this from personal observation, but I suspect your college is filled with handsome dudes.”

“I was talking about you.”

“Me? You don’t want to go with an old fogey like me.”

“No, of course not. That’s why I asked.”

“Are you serious?”

“You shouldn’t be cooped up by yourself all the time, Benjy. Working all weekend. You need to get out and live a little.”

Which was exactly what he’d been thinking himself. So why did he resist the suggestion so? “You don’t want to be seen with me. They’d think you were dating your grandfather.”

“You’re only fifteen years older than I am, Ben. And it would just be for fun. It’s not like we were, you know…” She laughed strangely. “Like we were dating or something.”

“Of course not. Still…” Ben suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable. “Any word from your wayward sister?”

Joni had an identical twin sister, Jami, who had been “on the road” for over a year. Discovering America, or some such. “Not much. She keeps sending me postcards from exotic places.”

“How exciting.”

“Yeah, but I notice that the postmark is the same on all of them. Omaha.”

Ben winced. “I guess this points up the value of a college education. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’d better go feed my cat.”

He crossed inside and climbed the stairs to his apartment.

“Good evening, Giselle,” he said as he dropped his briefcase and coat. “How was your-”

Wait a minute. No Giselle.

There were not that many constants in Ben’s life, but one of the absolutes was that Giselle always met him at the door. As much out of hunger as affection. But still. She required her daily fix of Feline’s Fancy, the sooner the better. And he was her procurer.

“Giselle?” He heard a faint mewling. He whipped across the apartment to the back bedroom.

“Giselle?” The panel in his closet was dislodged. It allowed access to the roof. He and Christina went out there sometimes to stargaze and gossip.

As quickly as he could manage, Ben mounted the steps and poked his head through. “Giselle?”

There she was, squatting on the edge of the roof, howling her black furry little head off. Ben had never heard such plaintive, piercing mewling.

“C’mere, sweetie.” He scooped her up and carried her back to the kitchen. She howled all the way. Only when he had her silver bowl filled to the brim with Feline’s Fancy did she stop, and then only long enough to eat.

“What on earth is wrong with you?” On an impulse, he opened a second can (a bad precedent, he knew), then freshened her water. When he was sure he had her stabilized, he popped open his briefcase.

He didn’t know where to start. There was so much to do on Ray’s case-and so little time to do it. Everything had to be checked and double-checked. They could afford to let no avenue of investigation go by, not with a life on the line and the executioner closing in on them fast. He couldn’t possibly do it all himself. Thank goodness he had a staff. Thank goodness for Christina.

Christina.

He almost picked up the phone, right then and there, and called her. But of course, as always, at the last moment, he chickened out. He knew she’d be busy doing something fun, and she didn’t need any pathetic calls from Ben interrupting her lively lifestyle. He’d just have to tough it out. Finish his work like a big boy.

But when this case was over, he resolved, he was going to make some changes. For real, this time. He was going to start having a life.

Because when all was said and done, the executioner wasn’t that far behind any of them.

So enough of the dull and lonely Kincaid lifestyle. From now on, he was going to start living like Christina did.

Christina was bored to tears. She wanted to scream, but Dee was managing the bookstore tonight and Christina suspected she wouldn’t appreciate any sudden outbursts.

She closed her file and tossed it back into her briefcase. She just couldn’t stand it anymore. It was all too dark, too depressing. Too devoid of human kindness. The Faulkner massacre was so horrible, it was almost inhuman. As if the killer lacked even the slightest-

Wait a minute. Something inside her head clicked. She didn’t get these bursts of inspiration often, but when she did, she had learned to trust them.

She ripped open the file and began rereading the key passages until at last the idea crystallized in her mind. Of course. It was all so clear now. It made perfect sense.

She ran out of the bookstore and headed for her car. She was going to have something new for Ben tomorrow morning, after all.