William Bernhardt - Primary Justice

“I can’t afford to lose my job the first week—”

“Well, that’s just what will happen, Benjy, if you don’t meet me in the hallway outside the ballroom in two minutes.” Her voice had a new edge to it. “Don’t forget, I talk with the boss on a regular basis. I can have you out of this firm in a heartbeat.” She stroked him under his chin and smiled. “And I’d hate to see that happen. Such a waste. So meet me in two minutes.”

Ben sputtered, “But what will I tell everyone?”

“Tell them you’re going out for fresh air.”

“Where will we go?”

Mona released him and stepped back. “Come on, Benjy, this is a hotel, after all. And bring me a glass of champagne.” She lifted the hem of her gown and ran quickly off the dance floor. Ben walked slowly in another direction, doing his best to look as if he had come with someone else.

Ben paced back and forth in the hallway with a glass of champagne in each hand. It had been five minutes. If she didn’t show up soon, he’d just leave and claim he thought he’d been stood up. But what if she told some lie about him to Raven? No, he needed to talk with her, to make her see the error of her ways. He was certain he could reason with her as one logical human being to another. He didn’t have anything personal against her; it was just an impossible proposition.

He heard a commotion at the other end of the hallway, by the escalators that led to the hotel lobby one floor up. Louise Derek was standing at the base of the up escalator, facing her husband, who was riding up. They were arguing with one another, in loud, strident voices.

“I’ve never even seen your goddamn cough drops!” Louise shrieked. For a petite woman, she could muster an extremely powerful voice.

“Sure,” Derek said, not even deigning to look at her. “Right. Then where are they?”

“How the hell should I know? Maybe you left them at your girlfriend’s place.”

Derek stepped off the up escalator and stepped onto the down. “Don’t start that again. Every time you get upset about something you fail back on—”

“Don’t tell me what to start up! I’ll start it up if I want to. You’re a walking viral infection! God knows what you’ve brought home to my bed!”

“Louise, that’s all in the past.”

“Sure, that’s your story. How the hell would I know?” Her face was becoming red and blotchy. “It’s not as if you’re ever home!”

Derek sighed, stepped off the down escalator, brushed past her, and rode back up again. “I work very hard—”

“At certain things, yes.”

Derek began to get angry. “Look, I do it for you . You and the kids.”

Louise laughed bitterly. “The hell you do. Look, Dick , if you’re doing it for me —don’t . I’d rather have a husband than a super-stud lawyer.” She laughed again. “The only person in your whole life you’ve ever done anything for is yourself. You’re the most goddamn selfish man ever !” Tears were beginning to stream from her eyes.

Derek started back down again on the other escalator. “You’re not being fair.”

“Who says I have to be fair? God knows you’ve never been fair, you egotistical son-of-a- bitch !” Derek stepped off the escalator and moved toward her. “And you keep your fucking hands off !” She wrapped her arms around herself and walked away.

Derek sighed, got back on the escalator, and rode all the way up. He strode into the lobby and disappeared.

Louise began walking toward Ben. Her face looked as if it had aged five years in five minutes.

Ben decided this would be an opportune moment to make himself scarce.

He turned left down a narrow hallway opposite the north side of the ballroom. Almost immediately, a door on the left opened and a familiar hand with long black fingernails reached out to him.

“Pssst. In here.” The hand gripped Ben’s wrist and gave him a tug. Champagne spilled on Ben’s tuxedo. The hand pulled him into a tiny dark room.

“What is this ?” Ben asked.

“Janitorial closet,” she whispered. She took the champagne glasses away and yanked off his jacket.

“But I thought—”

“This is better,” she said. “More intimate. More dangerous.” She started untying his bow tie.

“Right,” Ben muttered. “Just what I was hoping for. More danger. Ow!” He banged his head on an overhead shelf. Shifting positions, he managed to rest himself against a dusty shelf loaded with cleaning fluids. “Not much room in here.”

“That’s right, Benjy, nowhere to go but into Mona. Come to Mama.”

Ben reached out into the darkness to stop whatever overture she was making, but his hand alighted on soft warm flesh that could be nothing other than a woman’s breast. With a sudden frisson of horror, Ben realized that she was not wearing any clothing.

Ben began to feel queasy. “Look, Mrs. Raven, let’s examine this rationally—”

“Examine this , you tease.” She bit down on his earlobe and pressed her hot naked body against his. “First you lure a girl into the janitor’s closet, then you play hard to get. You sexual sadist! Stop talking and get on with it.”

Ben felt a skilled hand systematically eliminating the pearl-studded buttons on his shirt. She was out of control, an unstoppable, elemental force of nature. He prayed that no one in the hotel got a sudden urge to do some dusting.

10

BEN WAS AWAKENED THE next morning by the harsh sound of a ringing telephone. He gave it six chances to relent, but the fiend demanded to be answered. Groaning, Ben crawled out of the sleeping bag he was using for a bed and snatched the phone receiver from its cradle.

It was Mike.

“What gives? Don’t tell me you were still in bed?”

Ben sighed. “Yes, Mike, I was still in bed. Sound asleep. Dreaming sweet dreams. Until you called.”

“Well, you should thank me. It’s almost ten o’clock.”

“And I do thank you, Mike. Truly.” He rubbed his tongue across his dry, fuzzy teeth. “I was up late attending a Raven festivity.”

“Oh, well, that explains it. Get lucky?”

“ No ,” Ben said immediately and with great force. “No, I most certainly did not get lucky.”

“All right, all right, ease off. I’m not your mother.”

“Is this why you called, Mike?”

“Actually, no.” Ben heard him shuffling papers. “Dr. Koregai is starting his autopsy of Adams. I thought you ought to be there.”

Ben felt an unpleasant sensation in his stomach. “Why in God’s name should I be there for the autopsy?”

“Come on, Ben. Don’t wimp out on me now. You knew the man.”

“What’s that got to do with the autopsy?”

“I want you to be present when the evidence comes in. Besides, I have some new information to share with you.”

Ben massaged his temples. “None of this convinces me that I need to be present for an autopsy.”

“I think it’s important, Ben. Do it for me.” He paused. “If you won’t do it for me, do it for Bertha Adams.”

Ben took a deep breath, men exhaled slowly. “I’ll meet you in twenty minutes,” he said. He slammed the receiver back into its cradle and started searching for his toothbrush.

Ben arrived in twenty-five minutes, after stopping for his traditional early morning fix of chocolate milk. This was definitely a two-carton morning.

He met Mike outside the coroner’s office and accompanied him into the examining room of Dr. Koregai, a middle-aged Japanese man who seemed to approach autopsies with the same matter-of-fact manner one might bring to disassembling a model airplane. Mike said he was the best. He was a little strange, true, but what do you expect from a man who cuts up corpses for a living? At least he wasn’t the type to tell jokes or eat lunch while he was cutting. He was very observant, if very temperamental. To get Koregai to answer your questions, Mike explained, you have to give him the impression that you’re here for the sole purpose of serving him in his quest for truth, justice, and autopsic excellence.