Lisa Scottoline - Mistaken Identity

But when this trial ended there would be none of these things. Nothing but a vacuum, and that was the best-case scenario. What if they lost? Bennie shuddered as the jury filed out to begin deliberations, disappearing through the paneled door. Departing to decide Connolly’s fate, leaving Bennie with nothing but emptiness, and fear.

The lawyers awaited the verdict back at the office, and Bennie helped the associates gather the trial exhibits and return them to the file. It wasn’t the type of clerical task she usually performed, but she knew they’d need her help and part of her wasn’t ready to let go of the associates. Trying this case together had brought them closer, like soldiers in the war, and Bennie knew this war wasn’t over yet. If Connolly were convicted, there was still the penalty phase of the trial to go, with Bennie putting up the expert and fact witnesses that would be Connolly’s last hope. “You got the psych expert lined up, right, Carrier?”

“All taken care of. Ready on phone notice.”

“Good. You got the assistant warden?”

“Only the assistant’s assistant. She’ll say that Connolly was the model inmate, conducted the computer class, and showed rehabilitation potential.”

Bennie kept her own counsel. With what she knew, eliciting that testimony would be like suborning perjury. She turned to DiNunzio. “Any luck finding anybody who knew Connolly growing up?”

“No. I made a bunch of calls and got zip.”

“No family left at all? Not even cousins or something?”

“None.”

Bennie considered the implications. She and Connolly were all each other had left. “You checked on family friends and neighbors?”

“I found an acquaintance who knew her from high school. She said Connolly was always an outsider. Maybe that would help. She said she’d testify. If we need her, I can take her.”

“You’ll do the direct exam, DiNunzio? No jitters?”

“Not after my contempt argument.”

Bennie smiled, surprised. She had assumed that Carrier had handled the argument. “You mean you argued that, to Judge Guthrie?”

“Yes,” Mary said, and couldn’t hide a proud smile. “I got you out of jail. Almost free.”

“How’d you handle it? Were you nervous?”

“It didn’t kill me, so I must be stronger.”

Judy nodded happily. “She was awesome. She had the case law ready as soon as they took you away. It only made sense for her to argue it, not me.”

Bennie didn’t get it. “You had contempt cases ready? Why? How?”

“I thought you might get into trouble down the line. I would have, in your position. As nuts as my twin makes me, she’s still my twin. So I found a few cases this morning.”

Bennie laughed, a brief break from the tension. “Well, thanks. You done good.” Then her thoughts returned to Connolly. “So we don’t have much for the penalty phase, is what I’m hearing. Wonderful.” Bennie thought of trying to contact her father. He could tell the story of how he had abandoned Connolly, help her in a way he’d never helped before. She shook it off, then unaccountably, thought of Lou. “You didn’t hear anything from Lou, did you?” Bennie asked, and Mary shook her head.

“No, not since this morning.”

“He hasn’t called in?”

“I checked the messages.”

Bennie’s mouth made a grim line. “I don’t like the sound of that. He should be here. Did he tell you where he was going when he left court?”

“No, he didn’t say.” Mary frowned, and locked eyes with Bennie.

“Five more minutes, I call his house again.”

Mary nodded. “I’ll remind you.”

“Where do you want these?” Judy asked, holding a file of trial notes.

Bennie looked up from her work. “Stick ’em in the last folder.”

Judy wedged the manila folder into the last red accordion file. Fifteen accordians sat in three rows of five on the conference room table, their manila folders straight. Almost all of the exhibits and transcripts cluttering the conference room had found their way into one of the accordians. Bennie wondered if anything else in her life would come back together so easily.

“How long do you think the jury will be out?” Judy asked, stuffing the correspondence file away.

“Not tonight, either way.” Bennie checked the small desk clock sitting behind the telephone. 4:32. Only five minutes since the last time she’d looked. “They haven’t been sequestered that long, so they’re not that antsy, and it’s a major case. They’ll sleep on it, then decide tomorrow or the next day.”

“Sunday? You think they’ll go ’til Sunday?” Judy rubbed her neck. “It’s not like there’s a lot of physical evidence to go over. Either they believe the cops or they don’t.”

Mary nodded. “People don’t like to work on Sundays. I bet they’ll come back tomorrow, then go home and rest on Sunday.”

Judy squinted outside the large windows of the conference room. The sky was gorgeous and sunny, the humidity mercifully low. “It’s supposed to be a nice weekend. They get the weather report, don’t they?”

Suddenly the intercom buzzed on the credenza, startling Bennie, who reached for it. The associates froze where they stood. It would be Marshall, the receptionist. “Rosato,” Bennie said when she picked up. “Are they back?”

“No, relax,” Marshall said. “Turn on the TV. The news is on Channel 10, and we’ve been getting tons of calls. Something’s happening out there.”

“Thanks.” Bennie hung up and leaned over to switch on the small color Trinitron in the corner of the conference room. “It’s not the jury, it’s the TV.”

“What?” Judy said, as she and Mary gathered around.

“Jesus H. Christ,” Bennie said, turning up the sound.

On the screen flashed a series of still photos of police officers hurrying from a cemetery. A voice-over said, “The funeral service of Officer Lenihan was disrupted by reporters today, and Philadelphia’s top cop has requested that immediate action be taken against members of the press.” The next scene was a head shot of the Police Inspector, his distinguished features marked with undisguised scorn. “I’m shocked by what I heard happened today,” he said. “It is an absolute abomination that Officer Lenihan’s family was disturbed in their most difficult hour, by a media that seems to know no bounds and have no decency.”

A woman TV reporter stuck a bubble microphone in the Inspector’s face. “Do you have any comment about the allegations of corruption against certain members of the Eleventh and Twentieth Districts, Inspector?”

“We have no further comment at this time. An investigation of the districts has been commenced today and will be fairly conducted. Thank you.”

“Specifically, are you aware that certain allegations have been made involving members of the police force taking cash payments for protecting drug dealers?”

“I repeat, I have no comment on the particulars,” the Inspector said, and walked off-camera as the TV reporter turned and flashed a capped smile.

“That’s all from the Roundhouse. Back to you, Steve.”

Bennie switched off the television to the sound of the associates laughing and clapping. “Did you hear that?” Judy said, delighted, and Mary’s face lit up.

“The word is out! How did that happen?”

Bennie looked grim. “A sailor man we know?”

“ Lou ?” they both said in unison, but Bennie’s eyes were pained. Lou wasn’t as young as he thought and whatever he was doing would threaten some very dangerous characters, enemies known and unknown. If they were going down, it wouldn’t be without a fight.

“Where the hell is he?” Bennie asked, but nobody had the answer.