Lisa Scottoline - Dead Ringer

“Mr. Freminet will see you,” the receptionist said. She turned from her desk with a jowly frown, like a body double for Queen Victoria. Either she was your basic sourpuss, or she’d heard that Bennie was a diamond thief. “His office is down the hall and on the right, in the corner.”

“Thanks,” Bennie said, and hurried down the hall. She passed row after row of secretaries typing away on computer keyboards, plugged into Dictaphone earphones, and she wanted to rescue them all. Except that she couldn’t pay them. She went to the end of the hall and opened the door of the corner office.

“Bennie!” Sam Freminet was a compact, freckled lawyer with a supershort red haircut, in a neat navy blazer and a Looney Tunes tie, and he leapt delightedly from behind his polished glass desk. He met her at the door with a warm, if slightly bony, hug that smelled too strongly of Calvin Klein. “What’s up, doc?”

“Everything, Sam.” Bennie broke the clinch after a moment and flopped into one of the leather Eames chairs in front of Sam’s desk. The chairs coordinated perfectly with the modern glass desk, the sleek Danish bookshelves and credenza, and a brown leather couch containing a plush Pepé Le Pew, Daffy Duck, Bugs Bunny with a stuffed carrot, and Elmer Fudd in wabbit season. Sam was a Looney Tunes freak, and Bennie’s oldest friend in the world. But she still didn’t know how to tell him her news. “You’d better close the door.”

“Ooh, good dish, huh? I love it!” Sam closed the door and rubbed slim hands together. “As Bugs would say, ‘Better start scheming.’ That was in ‘Now Hare This,’ by the way.”

Bennie was trying to think of a way to explain. She and Sam had both started at Grun together after graduating from law school, but Sam had survived and become a partner in the bankruptcy department. Now she needed him, personally and professionally. “Well, this isn’t dish, it’s bad news, and I don’t know where to start.”

“Aw, mon petit corned beef,” Sam purred in his best Pepé Le Pew, sliding into the sling chair next to her. He took her hand, and his forget-me-not blue eyes melted with genuine warmth behind hip rimless glasses. “Don’t worry, whatever it is, we’ll fix it.”

“We can’t.”

“Yes we can. We girls can do anything!”

“Wait, that’s not Bugs Bunny, that’s Barbie.”

“I know. I’m mixing icons, but I do love that girl!” Sam waved a small hand. “I had the pink car, the dream house, the whole complex. How do you think I turned out the way I did?”

“Gay?”

“No, a lawyer.”

Bennie laughed, feeling a rush of affection. She stalled in telling him the bad news, not wanting to leave the comfort of the moment. “Sammy, do you look especially good today, or am I just happy to see you?”

“Well, I am positively caliente today. Check me out.” Sam swiveled his skinny shoulders. “Hugo jacket, Versace shirt, Ralph pants. Now that I’m out of the closet, I’m fierce. I’m flaming. I’m Bankruptcy Queen.”

Bennie smiled. “I remember when you had to hide your love away.”

“The dark ages. I couldn’t believe they fell for my straight act. I thought only the army had that kind of denial. Or Liza Minnelli.”

They both laughed, and Bennie felt her tension ebb away. The only good thing about getting older was that you got to have old friends.

“Now, what’s going on, honey?” Sam inched forward on his chair. “What’s the matter?”

“Alice is in town.”

“The bitch is back?” Sam’s tiny eyes blinked behind his tiny glasses, and Bennie began the story, telling about the missing wallet, the double packages, and the diamond earrings, while Sam grew more and more upset, reddening under his freckles. He barely waited for her to finish before he exploded. “Why the fuck is she doing this to you? You didn’t do anything to deserve this! All you ever did was help her! Why, for fuck’s sake?” Sam was never on a curse diet. “She came out of nowhere, charged with murder, and you proved she was innocent!”

“I agree, but God knows how she sees it, or me. She’s a mess. She’s a damaged person.”

“Damaged, what does she have to be damaged about?”

“Maybe being put up for adoption instead of me?” Bennie had wondered about it. Their mother, alone with limited emotional and financial resources, couldn’t handle raising both of the children she had borne, and had kept Bennie. It had to hurt. “Maybe she felt abandoned. After all, my mother chose me over her.”

“Don’t even tell me you feel guilty about that.”

“I do, a little. Sure.”

“ What? Why? Let’s review. You got the family with the sick mom-God rest her soul, but she was very sick-and the father who splits at birth. You raised yourself, put yourself through college and law school, and managed to take care of your mother, too. On the other hand, Alice got the nuclear family in north Jersey, with the Eldorado.”

“I don’t know about the Eldorado.” Bennie couldn’t laugh, but it was partly true. Alice had told Bennie that her adoptive parents had been wonderful to her, but she just never felt that she belonged with them.

“Okay, I’ll betcha. Now, who got the good childhood?”

“I did. I knew my mother, and Alice didn’t,” Bennie answered, and Sam fell uncharacteristically silent. “She was a loving, wonderful mother before she became completely depressed. It was like watching the sun set on someone, and part of her depression had to be the pain of giving up Alice, and the guilt. Nobody gives up a child without losing something.” Bennie wished away the weight on her chest, even as she knew it wouldn’t leave. “Anyway, enough. I’ll deal with Alice. You tell me what to do about my business. Frankly, I’m going broke.”

“It’s about time you told me.”

“How did you know?”

“Please, I’m a bankruptcy lawyer, you think I don’t know?” Sam’s phone started ringing but he let his secretary pick up. “Small business is in big trouble in this economy. I read that Caveson and Maytel filed, and I knew they were your house clients. Also, you haven’t called for two months, so I know you’re in trouble. You’re the only friend who calls when she doesn’t need anything, and avoids me when she needs help.”

Bennie found a smile. “Well, here I am. I have to stay open for business, plus I have to ante up thirty grand to buy into a class action.”

“You doing class-action work?”

“I am now. Or I was. This representation will save my ass, if I can keep it. So I guess I need bankruptcy advice.”

“No, you need cash, and lots of it. Fast. That’s easy.” Sam reached inside his Hugo/Versace/Ralph jacket and extracted his checkbook. “I’ll give it to you.”

“No, put your money away.” Bennie had known he’d offer, but she wouldn’t mooch from her best friend. “I won’t take it.”

“Don’t be silly!” Sam leaned forward on his glass desk and started to scribble out a check. “How much do you need? Fifty grand will do it, to start. That will cover the thirty grand you need for the class action, plus your office rent and overhead for the next few months.”

“Try years, but it’s out of the question.”

“Tarnation, Bennie! I won’t miss it. The economy goes in the tank, and bankruptcy lawyers get flush.” Sam threw his hands up in the air. “I just bought the new 500S, the one with the all-wood package, and the second condo is paid off. I’m having one of the best years I’ve ever had, and I owe you. You stuck by me when I wasn’t sticking by myself. You got me back on the straight and narrow, remember? Well, the narrow anyway.”

Bennie remembered. “I didn’t do it for payback, and I won’t take your money. I won’t cash the check.”