Lisa Scottoline - Mistaken Identity

“I got on the phone with them as soon as I heard about it. A man named Hutchins. His phone number is in the file.”

“Where’s the file? I’ll call that asshole.” Hearing herself, Bennie realized she was losing it. Her practice was in danger. Her livelihood. Her firm. She grabbed the file over the desk. “Now, get word to Connolly. Say you’re calling for me. Tell her not to talk to the press. No interviews. Nothing.”

“Will she listen?” Marshall asked. “I mean, the leak had to come from somewhere.”

“You think Connolly leaked it?” Bennie’s eyes widened slightly. She hadn’t even considered it. She hadn’t had time to consider anything, only to react.

“I’m not accusing her or anything. I mean, you know her, don’t you? She’s your-” A quizzical look crossed the receptionist’s face, and Bennie read it instantly.

“You want to know if Connolly’s my twin, right? Well, so do I.” She raised her arms and turned to face the office. “Everybody, I have an announcement! Everybody please, can I have your attention?”

Secretaries looked up from their computer keyboards. Lawyers popped from their offices like seedlings through topsoil. Mary and Judy, in the glass conference room, appeared relieved there was a wall between them and their boss. Everybody was looking at Bennie like she was crazy. Nobody said a word.

“You have a right to know the truth, so here it is!” Bennie said. “I don’t know if Alice Connolly is my twin. I have no earthly idea. She’s news to me, too. As soon as I know, I’ll let you know. Meanwhile, don’t talk to the press! Thank you!”

The secretaries returned hastily to their typing. Lawyers’ heads shot back inside their offices. Mary and Judy got busy with the file. Marshall’s lips curved into a tense smile. “If your tantrum is over, take your mail,” she said.

“Thanks.” One look at the packet told Bennie it was correspondence, phone messages, and court papers. She wanted to throw it all in the air. The sketch of Connolly’s lawyer/boyfriend was burning a hole in her pocket, but she had to get her license back. She tucked the mail under her arm, strode to the conference room, and opened the glass door with a free finger. “Hey, gang,” she said, and the two associates looked up.

“You need help with that stuff?” Judy asked.

“No thanks. You heard the news about Connolly and me.”

“Yes,” Judy answered matter-of-factly. She held a pleadings index pressed against her jeans smock, worn with a ribbed yellow T-shirt and matching yellow clogs. Bennie was supposed to be a civil libertarian, so she had to pretend she didn’t mind when her associates dressed like clowns.

“Nice outfit. You heard, too, DiNunzio?”

Mary reddened. “Yes.”

“I was going to discuss it with you, later. So we may have something in common.”

“I guess so.”

“The press is all over this. I’m sure we’ll be the big story on Action News tonight, evil twin and all. So don’t talk to the press, you both know that. There’ll be a gag order on this case for sure. Understood?”

“Understood,” they both said.

Bennie nodded, calming slightly. “Now, Carrier, did you apply to the court for the activity reports?”

“Yes, but Judge Guthrie’s clerk hasn’t gotten back to me on the argument. I’ll keep after him.”

Bennie turned to Mary. “DiNunzio, did you find the report from the cops, Reston and McShea, in the file?”

“I looked but it’s not there.”

“Call that weasel at Jemison about it.”

“Miller? I did already. He says he never saw one, and Hilliard isn’t returning my calls. Stall city.”

Bennie frowned, wondering if the report had been “lost” by Jemison or by the D.A. She wasn’t a conspiracy theorist, but some very peculiar things were happening. The yanking of her license couldn’t be an accident; the timing was too good. Who was raining shit on her, and why? “Did you get in touch with either of your classmates at Jemison about Guthrie and Burden?”

“Neither stayed at Jemison. One went to Cravath in New York, but one is still in town. I don’t know where she works. I have two calls in to her house.”

“Good. Follow up. What are you doing now?”

“Everything,” Judy said. “Preparing a trial checklist, lining up experts, drafting jury instructions-”

“No, you’re not. I have a new assignment for you. Come into my office. DiNunzio, you, too.”

“Sure,” Mary said, and scrambled out from behind the file, finding her pumps under the table with her stocking feet. She stood up when she found them and smoothed down a lightweight blue suit. She’d been right about Bennie and Connolly. The twin thing would be all over the papers. Bennie’s decision to represent Connolly would be fodder for the editorial page and second-guessed by most of the bar.

The associates hurried out the conference room door and walked to Bennie’s office, where she dumped her mail onto an already cluttered desk, pulled the sketch from her pocket, and showed it to the associates. “Do either of you recognize this man?” Bennie asked. “I think he’s a lawyer in town.”

“Nope,” Judy answered, studying the drawing. It was of an attractive middle-aged man with longish hair, round, close-set eyes, and a chin like granite. “Looks like Superman.”

“He drives a brown Mercedes, if that helps.”

“A lawyer with a Mercedes? How unusual.”

“DiNunzio? You know him?”

Mary shook her head. “No.”

“Why? Who is he?” Judy asked, and Bennie waved them into the chairs across from her desk and told them everything she’d learned at the library. She began to get a handle on the situation as she spoke and its implications crystallized. If Connolly had a lover, then she’d not only lied about the happiness of her relationship with Della Porta, she may have lied about where she was the day of the murder. Worse, she’d given herself a motive to kill Della Porta. If the D.A. knew about it, he’d have a field day. Bennie felt unsettled, her confidence in Connolly shaken.

“I don’t like surprises, not this close to trial,” Judy said. Her worried features were as readable as a Girl Scout’s. “If Connolly didn’t tell you about this, she’s lying to us.”

“I’ve never had an inmate not lie about something,” Bennie said defensively. “The only question is whether they lie about something important.”

“This is important.”

“Maybe not. Maybe the lawyer is married and she wanted to keep the affair a secret. Or maybe it was irrelevant, so she didn’t mention it.” Bennie heard herself making excuses for Connolly, but she didn’t want to start in with Judy again, not today. “In any event, don’t tell me how bad the news is. We’re advocates, remember? Tell me how we can deal with it if it comes up at trial. Turn it to our client’s advantage.”

Mary fought the impulse to raise her hand. “Maybe we can offer this lawyer as a suspect. You know, suggest to the jury that he’s the killer.”

Bennie brightened. She should have thought of that herself, but she’d been too preoccupied with Connolly’s betrayal, her license to practice, and the evening news. “Sure. If Connolly has a boyfriend, she has a motive to kill Della Porta-but so does he. He’s a jealous lover.”

“That’s lame,” Judy scoffed. “Connolly and Della Porta weren’t even married.”

Bennie checked her impatience. “We have to develop it, find out a little more. We don’t have to convince the jury that this lawyer did it. We just have to make it colorable, give it some weight. Make it plausible enough for reasonable doubt.”

“That’s what I meant.” Mary nodded. She could always take credit, couldn’t she? This was America, and it was her right as an employee. “So, do you want us to try and identify this lawyer?”