Lisa Scottoline - Dead Ringer

“I… cannot.”

“Why not? I broke into your house. It’s an outrage. I’m trespassing.”

Mayer was shaking his head. His lips tightened to a line like a rubber band.

“Tell me what happened tonight.” Bennie could barely breathe. He had done it. “I want the truth.”

“Tonight?” Mayer swallowed with obvious difficulty. “Well. So. Tonight I had dinner at the Palm, with Robert.”

Bennie blinked. So he’d confess to dinner. She could work with that. His stalling was calming her down. “Whose idea was the dinner?”

“Mine.”

“Why?”

“I wished to talk with Robert about the lawsuit. And to apologize, for today… my conduct in court.”

“And did you?”

“Why do you ask me? Ask your client.”

“Yeah, right.” Bennie clenched her teeth and brandished the umbrella, which was navy and bore a white WHYY-FM logo. She had the same one. So they both supported public radio. Still, it was heavy enough and had a rather nasty point for NPR. “I’m asking you , you complete and total shit.”

“I was trying to persuade him to step aside. I wanted him to agree to let me serve as lead plaintiff, but I was unsuccessful.”

“He didn’t tell me anything about this meeting.”

“I know. I asked him not to, and he agreed.”

“Why?”

“This was to be kept between us, as businessmen.”

“But you told Linette.”

“I did not.”

“Oh, please. You’re telling me you didn’t tell Linette? That he didn’t put you up to it?” Bennie was normally better at cross-examination than this, but she’d never conducted one after seeing the corpse of a murdered client.

“It’s the truth. I know you may not agree, but oftentimes lawyers merely complicate the… process.”

Bennie didn’t disagree. “Did you speak with Linette tonight?”

“It’s not your concern, but I haven’t. I went to bed with a headache. After dinner, from the wine.”

Bennie eyed him under the umbrella. He was obviously lying. She didn’t have the best shit detector in the world, but he did all the dumb things like shifting his eyes back and forth toward the darkened living room. “What time did you finish dinner?”

“Eight o’clock, eight-thirty.”

It jibed with the time of death. “What did you do next?”

“I offered Robert a ride home, but he said it was a beautiful night, and he chose to walk. Really, this is absurd!” Mayer threw up his arms, and his funny sleeves billowed. The black satin that matched the shawl collar hemmed the cuffs, too. “Then I came home. And now I’m tired and I want to return to bed!”

“You did not, Mayer!” It was a beautiful night. Robert loved to walk. Now he was dead. Knifed by this man. Left to bleed in an alley. “You’re lying!”

“I did, I swear it,” Mayer stammered. He edged back toward the wall. “Honestly, call Robert and ask him! Do!”

“You bastard! ” Bennie heard herself shouting. “You know Robert’s dead. You killed him! You did it! ” She considered bringing the umbrella down onto Mayer’s head, but for the shock in his eyes and the gasp that escaped his lips.

“That cannot be. Robert dead?” Mayer shook his head slowly. “That cannot be.”

Bennie watched Mayer in a bewilderment of her own now. This guy was too stiff to fake it with such conviction, wasn’t he? It was so uncharacteristic, it had to be real. She lowered the umbrella harmlessly, surprised by her own violence and completely confused. She wasn’t sure if it was an act or not, but if he really didn’t know Robert was dead, he obviously hadn’t killed him. Then what was he so nervous about? What was Mayer hiding?

“Herman?” came another voice, and Bennie jumped. A light went on in the living room adjoining the entrance hall, and a young man emerged, in a matching Ward Cleaver robe. He was barefoot and evidently naked under the robe, which had slipped aside at the neck to reveal a skinny chest. “Is something the matter?” he asked, coming into the entrance hall, and he froze when he saw Bennie. “What’s going on here?”

Oh . So Mayer was gay. It was no biggie to Bennie, except for that marriage part. But Mayer was doing the freak.

“Go back upstairs!” he shouted at the young man, showing the temper he’d displayed in court. “Go upstairs! Everything here is fine!” The young man turned on his bare heel and padded from the room, his footsteps disappearing in the soft rug. Mayer looked at Bennie, his thin skin tinged so deeply it made her heart go out to him.

“Herman, I don’t care if you’re gay. Nobody should have to be afraid of who they are. Some of my best friends are gay. In fact, my best friend is -”

“How dare you! Leave my house this instant!” Mayer flew to his door, his robe billowing behind him. He flung open the door and grabbed Bennie by the arm, with a strength he hadn’t shown to date. “Out! Out now! You’ve done enough damage here!”

“Herman, relax.” Bennie let herself be shown outside, in disbelief. Did people still reside in the closet? So that’s what Mayer had been hiding. That was why he’d been so nervous. Silly. She actually liked him better now. If he was gay, he had to have a fun side. She could introduce him to Sam. After his divorce. “Look, I won’t go blabbing. Your personal life is your personal life.”

“Never come back here!” Mayer shouted, throwing her cell phone onto the pavement, where she heard it clatter, and slamming the front door shut behind her.

Bennie stood bewildered on the stoop as the light went off in the entrance hall; she could tell from the old-fashioned transom over the front door. She felt suddenly confused, exhausted, and defeated, and she reached for the wrought-iron railing as she stepped down the front steps. She didn’t understand Mayer. She didn’t understand anything. She wanted to know for sure who killed Robert. She wanted to go home and lay her head on a cool, thin pillow. She found her cell phone in the pachysandra, went to her car, and drove back down Germantown Avenue.

Bump bump bump. She was thinking about Robert. Trying to deal with the fact that he was dead. Wondering whether Mayer had in fact done it. Wrapping her mind around the notion that it could have been a foreigner-hater.

And realizing that the road ahead would get even bumpier.

Bennie had no idea what time it was when she slid finally into bed, too exhausted to perform all those good-girl tasks like washing her face, much less flossing. She had showered when she came out of the river, which was basically the same thing, even if it did seem like ages ago. She turned over in bed, wondering why things always went like that for her. Nice and even, except for periods of life-threatening drama. Why couldn’t she be more like the other girl lawyers?

She tossed under the light quilt, feeling a slight grittiness. It told her that her sheets were entering week three. So what . She’d been a little busy lately, and Bear didn’t mind. She threw an arm over the dog, snoring beside her in bed, where a man would usually be. In an alternate reality.

Bennie felt a twinge of guilt. She should have called Robert’s brother, introduced herself and offered condolences, inquired after the son at Harvard. But she’d been too preoccupied. Hot on the trail of a terrified homosexual with really bad taste in bathrobes. Bennie found her mind wandering to “Night by Night,” the Steely Dan song that had been playing in David’s Jeep.

She squeezed her eyes tighter. She had screwed up so much lately, and now everything had gone wrong. She’d have to find Robert’s successor and hope he wanted to continue to press the claim. It was a legal wrong to the corporation, not merely personal to Robert, so it could survive Robert’s death, as a technical matter. But figuring it out could take weeks she didn’t have. In the meantime, Rosato amp; Associates could go completely under. She’d have to let the bank foreclose on the house. She had no idea how she’d get another place, much less start over, with a bankruptcy on her record and her credit already so messed up, thanks to Alice.