Lisa Scottoline - Mistaken Identity

“Can’t help you there. She stopped coming to the library a long time before that.” He looked away, at the Swann Fountain, and Bennie followed his gaze. For the first time she noticed three kids playing in the fountain, drenched to their shorts and T-shirts, oblivious to the workday crowd. They kicked and splashed in the circular pool, and Bennie was distracted by the slick nudes at the fountain’s center.

“You think she was sleeping with this lawyer?” Bennie asked.

“Duh.”

“So who was he?”

“Some rich guy. He drove a Mercedes. He came by once or twice to pick her up.”

“What kind of Mercedes?”

“Sedan. New.”

“What color?”

“Shit brown.”

Bennie tried to puzzle it out. Connolly hadn’t told her any of this. “What did the lawyer look like?”

“Rich. Preppy.” The young man’s chin sunk onto his hand, like a lovesick version of The Thinker, which sat in front of the Rodin Museum down the Parkway. “Mainly he looked richer and preppier than me.”

“Was he white or black? Light hair, dark hair? Sebastian, you’re an artist, with an alleged eye for detail. Give me a description.”

“I can’t. The subject depresses me, and I’m no good with words.”

“Can you draw him, then?”

Sebastian raised his chin from his hand. “You gotta pencil?”

Alice stood behind the inmates at the computers. Their blue shirts bent over the keyboards and they poked at the keys. Her cellie hunted-and-pecked in the middle, and two seats from her was Valencia, reeking like a funeral home. Leonia anchored the end of the row, a mountain of muscle next to Shetrell and the rest of her crew.

Alice kept her eye on them, wondering about last night. There had to be a contract out on her. It would have come to Shetrell, who was connected inside and out. But why? And from who? It didn’t make sense, but Alice wasn’t taking any chances, not with freedom this close. She knew how to deal with it. Leonia, not Shetrell, would do the dirty work. Alice strolled down the row of do-rags and Muslims and stopped when she got to Leonia’s chair. “How’s it going, girl?”

“S’all right,” Leonia said, without turning around.

“You should save that document. You typed a page already. You don’t want to lose it.”

“I did save it.”

“No, you didn’t. If you did, it wouldn’t say Document One at the top, right here.” Alice reached over and pointed at the monitor screen. “It would have a name.”

“Uh-huh,” Leonia said after a moment.

“So save it.”

Leonia sat still in front of the keyboard. Her short hair made a spiky silhouette in front of the bright white monitor. Alice knew Leonia had no idea how to save the fucking thing. She could smell her brain overheat.

“Leonia, you know how to save it, don’t you? Move the cursor to FILE and click. Then click SAVE.”

Leonia moved the mouse, then clicked SAVE with deliberation. A blue-bordered window popped onto the screen, and she sat still again, stumped. Alice smiled. This bitch was going to take her out? She didn’t have the gray matter to double-click.

“You have to name the document before you can save it, Leonia. Type the name in the blank window.” Alice glanced at Leonia’s document. “Is it your resume?”

“Yuh.”

“So what would you name the file? Remember what I taught you about file names? Name it what it is. So name it ‘resume.’ ”

Leonia typed, “R E S U M A Y.”

“Perfect.” Alice held a critic’s finger to her chin. “The resume looks very good. What kind of job are you looking for when your bit’s done, Leonia? Doctor? Lawyer? Contract killer?”

Leonia kept staring at her monitor.

“I see.” Alice folded her arms and bounced on the tips of her feet. “Keeping your options open. Smart move. Very smart. Don’t want to be mired in a life of crime, stuck in that vicious cycle of the repeat offender. The possibilities are endless for a woman of your skills and abilities.”

Leonia glanced over her shoulder coldly. Shetrell’s slitted gaze slid to the side. The black-uniformed guard standing at the door cracked a smile, but none of the do-rags or Muslims did.

“Class, everybody look up a minute.” Alice clapped to get their attention. “Everybody, eyes up! Everybody, give me your attention!”

Heads popped up from the keyboards, ten of them. Diane looked dull-normal and Valencia was attentive, tossing glossy curls back onto her shoulders.

“We can all take a lesson from this lady,” Alice said, slapping a hearty hand on Leonia’s shoulder. “If you’re working on your resume, keep it good and general. Don’t limit yourself. You can do anything you set your mind to, like Leonia!”

Valencia grinned, completely missing the irony. Diane blinked stupidly. Leonia glared at the monitor. Shetrell went rigid with anger.

“You can make your dreams come true!” Alice called out, managing to keep a straight face. “One person can make a difference! All you have to do is work out every day! And save your documents at the end of the page!”

Valencia burst into spontaneous applause. “Ees the truth!” she shouted, and Alice curtsied deeply.

Bennie hiked the ten blocks back to the office, sweating by the time she turned the corner onto Locust Street, where she halted in surprise. The front door to her building was blocked by news vans, their brightly colored logos an alphabet that spelled disaster. Could something have happened at her office? She didn’t get halfway up the block before the reporters rushed toward her.

“Ms. Rosato, is Alice Connolly your long-lost twin?” “How does it feel to have your twin sister in jail, Bennie?” “What’s it like to represent your own flesh and blood?”

“No comment,” Bennie shot back, shocked. She knew the twin story would break sooner or later, but this was sooner than she’d thought.

Cameramen pushed videocams into her face. Reporters coagulated around her, jabbing the air with microphones. “Ms. Rosato, Ms. Rosato, have you seen the district attorney’s statement?” “Do you have any reaction?”

“No comment!” Bennie answered, thinking furiously ahead. The D.A. knew and was making statements. That meant the whole city knew. How? She plowed ahead, parting reporters with her briefcase like a prow does icebergs. “I have no comment on the matter.”

“Come on, Rosato, cut us a break!” “No comment at all?” “Is Connolly guilty or innocent?” “What do you say to the criticism by the bar association? Reports have it that you failed to take courses in legal ethics. They’re revoking your license to practice law. Any comment?”

“None at all!” Bennie spat out, so infuriated she didn’t care that the camera recorded her reaction. What was going on? Every lawyer was behind on the ethics requirement, they were going to yank her license? She ducked into her building, ran up the stairs, and by the time she reached the third floor, was beside herself. “Did you see them? They’re all out front,” she said to Marshall, who sat worriedly at her desk in the waiting area.

“I know.” Marshall’s French braid had loosened and stray wisps of hair had slipped out. “I tried to reach you at home this morning, but you were already gone. I tried your cell phone, too, but it was off. They’ve been calling all day. The story was on the news by midmorning.”

“They’re screwing with my license. Without a license, I can’t represent Connolly. Without a license, I can’t represent anybody. They can’t put me on inactive. Do I look inactive?”

“I warned you.”

“I know, but this stinks to high heaven.”