William Bernhardt - Hate Crime

She rang the bell. A few moments later, it was answered by a woman who was dressed in essentially the same style as Christina-a professional assistant, perhaps. Christina was escorted into an inner parlor, where Lillian Kincaid awaited her.

The older woman stood and extended her arms, the picture of graciousness. “Christina! How good to see you again.”

Christina took her hands. “Great to see you, too, Mrs. Kincaid.”

“Please call me Lillian.” She guided Christina to a chair. “Cup of tea? It’s Earl Grey.”

“Um, sure.”

Her hair was grayer than the last time Christina had seen her, but that didn’t mean much, since Christina knew she colored her hair. It was a fashion choice, not a sign of aging. To the contrary, she looked wonderful. She was well into her seventies, but she looked much younger. The only signs of true age were stylistic; she still wore big beauty shop hair, as she probably had done since the Fifties.

After she poured the tea, Lillian leaned forward and squeezed Christina’s hands. “I haven’t seen you since you received your law degree. I am so proud of you.”

To her surprise, Christina found herself blushing. “Well, thank you.” Ben had always described his mother as remote and austere, but Christina had never found her so. Formal, perhaps. But there was definitely a soul in there.

“And I was pleased to learn you’d joined Ben’s practice.”

“Really? You didn’t feel like I was trying to horn in on his business?”

“Please. I was relieved. You know how I worry about Ben, and his practice, if you can call it that. With you there to look after things, I thought there was a chance he might, well…” Her fingers danced in the air. “See some improvement.”

“I know exactly what you mean. I’ve encouraged Ben to focus on marketing. To get out and network. But-you know how that goes.”

“I can imagine.”

“Things are looking up, though,” Christina said. “This has been our best year yet. We’re actually making some money. If we can just keep Ben from spending half his time on clients he knows can’t pay.”

“That must be intensely frustrating.”

“Well, I’m used to it. Ben has a good heart.” She laughed suddenly. “As if I need to tell you that.”

“No, please do. You know how little he gives me. We talk more frequently now than in years past. I think he’s finally gotten over… well, his troubles with his father. But he still doesn’t open up. Doesn’t confide. Not like his sister.”

“How is Julia doing, by the way?”

Lillian’s eyes went heavenward. “Oh, don’t ask, please. Sometimes I think I must’ve been the world’s worst parent.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Julia will work her life out in time. And even if he doesn’t say it, I know Ben loves you very much.”

Lillian looked down at her teacup, smiling faintly. “Perhaps so.” She leaned forward, and her eyes sparkled. “Anyway… you know what I want to hear. Have you and Ben?…”

Christina knew her face was flushing now. “I’m not sure…”

“Has he asked you out?”

Christina craned her neck. “Oh.” She swallowed. “Ye-es… in a vague sort of way.” She sighed. “We play Scrabble.”

“Scrabble?”

“Scrabble.”

Lillian shook her head. “I blame Edward for this one. I told him a million times. Talk to your son. Give him the facts of life. Take him to New York and buy him a high-dollar hooker.”

Christina’s eyes ballooned. “Lillian!”

“But of course he never did. Too busy with work. Saving other people’s lives and tinkering with his inventions. And you know what that got us.” She set down her cup. “As much as I’d love to swap girl talk with you, I know that isn’t why you’ve come. What’s happening?”

Christina’s eyes wandered about the exquisitely furnished room. The matched burgundy sofas flanking the Oriental table were perfectly chosen, perfectly arranged. The objets d’art on the end tables were placed with precision, each oriented just so. On the other side of the room, the black Steinway was polished and glistening. Is that where Ben learned to play the piano? she wondered. What must it have been like, growing up in this house?

“It’s Ben. He’s been acting very strangely lately. I’ve got a new case that he refuses to have anything to do with.”

Lillian’s long fingernails tripped along her cheekbones. “Must be potentially profitable.”

“No, that’s just it. The client has no money, the defendant is incredibly unpopular, all the evidence indicates he’s guilty, and the DA is desperate to convict. It’s a textbook Ben Kincaid case. But he won’t come anywhere near it.”

“Did he say why?”

“No. He won’t talk about it.”

“Do you have any idea what his problem is?”

“Not really. Well… a suspicion.” Christina paused, gathering her strength. “Do you by any chance know a woman named Ellen Christensen?”

She pondered. “Christensen… Christensen… No, I don’t think-” She stopped abruptly. Her hand pressed against her lips. “Oh, no.”

“What? What?”

“That must be her married name. I didn’t realize…”

“Then you do know her.”

“I’ve never met her. This all happened years ago, when Ben was living in Toronto on that Rotary Fellowship.” She paused. “But eventually I found out what happened-what she did. To Ben. And why he’s been suffering ever since.”

Nothing worse than going over the quarterly statements. All this accounting mumbo jumbo gave Ben a throbbing headache. Jones had tried to teach him how to read these things, but it never took. For all he understood, they might as well have been written in Urdu. Which would explain why his firm was in the financial shape it usually was.

He heard the door open and threw down his pencil. “Paula, you can just leave the report-”

He stopped short. Mistaken identity.

Ellen Christensen was standing in his office, just inside the door.

He did not get up.

“Do you mind if we talk?” She didn’t wait to be invited to sit. “It’s been a long time, Ben.”

“Yes.”

“I came by your apartment. I knocked on the door for several minutes.”

“I must not have been home.”

The room fell silent, so silent Ben could hear the plumbing, water rushing through unseen pipes, air-conditioning hissing through the vents.

“I suppose you’re here to meet Christina?” he said finally.

“Actually, no. I understand she’s in Oklahoma City.”

Ben raised an eyebrow.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“To me? After all this time? Why?”

She looked at him levelly. “I think you know why.”

“I can’t imagine.”

“I’d like for you to get involved in my son’s case.”

“There’s no need. Christina has it well in hand. She’s a superb attorney.”

“I don’t doubt it. But you’ve got years of experience on her. Everyone says you’re one of the best. You know the courts, the judges, how the system works. It was clear to me, when I watched Christina at the pretrial hearing-”

“You shouldn’t judge anything by that,” Ben said, cutting her off. “That hearing was lost before it began. The fact that Christina got as far as she did shows how resourceful she is.”

“Nonetheless,” Ellen continued, “everyone I’ve talked to tells me you’re one of the most gifted criminal trial attorneys working today.”

Ben snorted. “Christina must’ve paid bribes.”

“I heard that even before I hired Kevin Mahoney. But I-” She frowned. “Well, to be truthful, I couldn’t bring myself to call you. It would be so… awkward. But this is different. It’s crunch time, as my late husband used to say.”