Dead Ringer

by Lisa Scottoline

  “But he’s so big, how can he blend in?”

  “He’s a master of disguise. He even has a witch hat.”

  Sam looked over. “Be serious.”

  “He knows stuff.”

  “He’s a soldier, not a spy.”

  Basically the same thing. “He has common sense, doesn’t he? He hangs back, changes his appearance slightly day to day, and he makes it work. You don’t need a surveillance degree to follow somebody around. Besides, Alice isn’t expecting this. She might expect me to hire a uniformed security guard, but she wouldn’t expect this. And she doesn’t know David. She won’t be looking for him to be following her following me.”

  “Huh?”

  “See? It’s too confusing.”

  They passed some office buildings a block from Bennie’s. The breeze was coolish and pleasantly free of humidity, and the foot traffic dying down. It reminded Bennie of the day she had walked back to her office with Robert, only to get arrested in front of him. She couldn’t believe that he was dead. Whoever had killed him wasn’t playing games. She stopped in her tracks and turned to Sam.

  “Sam, the truth is that beggars can’t be choosers. I know that the plan isn’t perfect, but it’s the only one I have. And it won’t last forever. I think it will only take a few days. She’ll show her hand very soon, and we’ll get her.”

  Sam inhaled. “But it’s like using you as bait.”

  “No it isn’t.”

  “Yes it is.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “Got you last,” Bennie said. She wasn’t about to admit as much to Sam, but she had thought of that.

  25

  Mort Abrams,” the young man said, shaking Bennie’s hand with assurance. He was younger than she had expected, about her own age, with a friendly array of crow’s-feet at the corners of his light brown eyes. He was short, with brown hair brushed neatly to the side, and he was dressed business casual in a forest green Lacoste shirt and charcoal Dockers. “Pleased to meet you in person, Bennie,” he said as they shook hands.

  “My, in person.” Bennie laughed and gestured to introduce the remaining associates. DiNunzio had left for Washington, and the boss was experiencing an uncharacteristic pang of maternal concern. But she still had two baby birds left, and this case was big enough to need them both. “Mort, these are my associates, Judy Carrier and Anne Murphy.”

  “Great to meet you,” he said, shaking each one’s hand, more stiffly than Robert had and with less charm. Bennie knew the associates would be remembering Robert, too; that was why she had scheduled the meeting in the large conference room. The windows lining the north wall filled the place with bright natural light.

  “Good to see you,” Carrier said, lifting her chin gamely as she sat down in her denim smock and white T-shirt, and Murphy extended her hand over the table.

  “Nice to meet you,” she said, more quietly than usual, and sat down. She wore her favorite black knit dress, sadly appropriate for today. Bennie decided not to ignore the subject.

  “Mort, you’ll have to excuse us here,” she began, taking her seat at the head of the table. “We’re all feeling pretty shaken today, with Robert St. Amien’s death last night. He was our client and our friend.” She gestured Abrams into a seat to her left, giving him the view of the cityscape.

  “Of course, I understand.” Abrams sat down and glanced around the table, with a puckered lower lip. “I met Robert only once, but he was a fine man and an excellent businessman. In fact, I owe him a debt of gratitude. He was the one who put me onto the notion of expanding into Europe, and we acquired an English sub.”

  “A subsidiary,” Bennie supplied, though he could just as easily have meant an English submarine, for all she knew about business.

  “Yes. I’m American, obviously, and my core business is manufacturing calibrated fittings for medical equipment.”

  “Fittings, I see,” Bennie said, though she was constantly amazed by the number of widgets it took to make a machine of any kind. The only thing she could make was a brief, and the only widgets she understood were words. “What exactly is a fitting?”

  “Well, a fitting is a little ring that”—Abrams made an O with his index finger and thumb—“well, forget the details, the bottom line is that fittings are rings that fit like collars on things, in my case most types of medical equipment. My company, FitCo, manufactures them in West Chester, outside the city.”

  “Okay, I’m with you.”

  “Last year, I wanted to expand my business, so I acquired a small English concern that manufactures medical lenses. My English sub, also called FitCo, has been damaged by the trade association’s boycott against foreign lenses. We’ve lost two contracts since the association’s meeting.”

  “You can document this?”

  “Easily.” Abrams spread his palms. “I’m wondering if I can join the class-action litigation against the association.”

  “What were the damages from the lost contracts?” Bennie slid a sharp pencil and a fresh legal pad from the center of the table.

  “Nothing in the neighborhood of St. Amien & Fils’s, but significant for us. A contract with Key Medical, Inc. A half million dollars.”

  “That’s significant, all right,” Bennie said, writing it down. It was five hundred grand more than she had, for starters.

  “It certainly is, and it was only the beginning for our little sub.” Abrams tented his fingers. “We use outside counsel for business work, but he doesn’t do much litigation, and no class-action litigation. So I find myself in the position of needing a lawyer but not knowing whom to choose. I think a lot of us smaller companies are in the same position. I thought I’d come here to speak with you.”

  “Thank you for giving us a shot,” Bennie told him, but her blood didn’t race as it had that morning with Robert. If anything, she should have been more excited about signing Abrams, because she was more broke now, if such a thing was possible. Everything hung in the balance, but she couldn’t muster the requisite enthusiasm for a dog and pony show.

  “I saw your argument yesterday in the courtroom. I was in the gallery.” Abrams smiled in an encouraging way. “I thought it was very interesting, what you did. I didn’t follow all the technicalities, but I liked how you handled yourself, and the motion you filed seemed to do the trick.”

  “It may have, but the judge didn’t exactly rule,” Bennie said, then kicked herself. Why was she talking Abrams out of hiring her? What was the matter with her? Plus she hadn’t even offered him coffee. She started to rise. “Excuse me, would you like some coffee?”

  “Don’t drink coffee.”

  “Okay.” Bennie sat back down. Bad to worse. She could hear her house selling at foreclosure, a gavel hitting a wooden block. She’d have to find an apartment that took Bears.

  “I am considering retaining Rosato & Associates because of what I saw, and part of my thinking is that if Robert chose you as counsel, that’s a very high recommendation. There are a lot of lawyers in this suit, and he could have gone anywhere.”

  “Thank you.” Bennie tried to rouse herself. “We may not have the experience the other firms do, but we’re more than qualified, and we can get the job done for a fraction of their cost because we’re smaller. We were very pleased that Robert selected us from among all the class-action counsel in the suit.”

  “I’ll say. My corporate lawyer says that the roster reads like a who’s who of class-action lawyers. Linette, Brenstein, Quinones, and a man named Kerpov, I think. My lawyer did some asking around, and he referred me to Bill Linette.”

  Bennie almost gagged on the irony, considering the steak knife still in her purse. She swallowed hard, relieved she hadn’t had the chance to brief the associates on what she’d learned about Linette’s dinner last night. They were too young to have developed a poker face. She said evenly:

  “Bill Linette is a very qualified lawyer, Mort. I’m sure he’d serve FitCo with skill and vigor.”

  “T
hat’s not what he says about you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “He said that you had no business representing a plaintiff in any class action. That it was malpractice for you to represent Robert, or to try to assume a leadership role in the lawsuit.”

  Bennie blinked, at a momentary loss for words. Most lawyers wouldn’t trash others to get a client, but if the steak knife was any indication, unfair competition was the least of Bill Linette’s sins.

  “Gimme a break!” somebody blurted out, and Bennie’s head snapped around. Judy Carrier, her cheeks as pink as her hair, had turned to address Abrams. “That’s funny that he said that, considering that he was here trying to hire Bennie this morning, and that he wants to buy the whole damn law—”

  “Carrier!” Bennie jumped in, alarmed. “That really won’t be necessary.”

  “Well, Jeez, boss!” Carrier protested. “It’s just absurd to let him get away with that!”

  Murphy piped up, “Really, it’s not true! We can do as good a job as—”

  “Ladies, that’s enough,” Bennie said firmly, rising at the head of the table, which seemed to shut the associates up. “I know you both mean well, but we don’t play that here. Bill Linette can say whatever he wants, it makes no difference to us. We are professionals here, even if we did forget about the coffee.”

  “Okay,” Carrier answered with a teenager’s huff, and Murphy folded her skinny arms, simmering in redheaded silence.

  “Good. Fine.” Bennie eased back into her seat and looked at Abrams. “Sorry, we are definitely feeling a little raw today.”

  “I see that,” Abrams said, and faced the associates. “Judy, Anne, I gotta tell you, in my opinion, there’s nothing wrong with a little team spirit. I’d be pissed if anybody talked that way about FitCo. I know how good our company is, and I’m proud of it.”

  “Thanks,” Carrier said gratefully, and Murphy nodded.

  Abrams turned back to Bennie. “Please, don’t feel like you have to apologize for feeling bad today. If I ever got murdered, I’d like my lawyer to feel sad the next day. I’m sorry if I offended you or your associates. I probably shouldn’t have mentioned what Bill said anyway. I couldn’t help wondering what your response would be.”

  “Well, you just got it,” Bennie answered with a smile. She liked his honesty, and he seemed to be loosening up. She was guessing he had baby birds, too. “And for the record, I disagree with his assessment. We may be inexperienced in class-action law, but we’re smarter than we look, and we work hard here.”

  Abrams smiled gently. “For what it’s worth, I wouldn’t take what Linette said to heart. He was well into a few drinks when he said it, and it was probably the scotch talking.”

  Scotch. Bennie flashed to Dante saying, Mr. Linette likes to have his after-dinner drinks. Always picks a nice malt. She played the strangest hunch. “Mort, when did Linette say this about me?”

  “I shouldn’t have said anything—”

  “No, it’s okay, but when did he say it?” She had assumed they’d met in Linette’s office, but maybe not. “Was it last night by any chance?”

  “Yes.”

  “At the Palm?”

  Abrams looked mildly surprised. “Why, yes.”

  Bingo! “You had dinner last night at the Palm, with Linette?”

  “Yes. We’ve been looking for representation since we heard about the lawsuit. We wanted to interview him about representing us, and he took me and my controller out to dinner.”

  So it wasn’t Quinones and Kerpov at dinner with Linette last night. It was Abrams and his controller.

  Bennie’s thoughts raced ahead. It made sense. Everything was churning in the class action. “What time did you leave the restaurant?” The associates shifted in their seats, but mercifully kept their mouths shut.

  “About eight-thirty,” Abrams answered, beginning to be puzzled, but Bennie was on a tear. She didn’t care if she lost the client if she could get Robert’s murderer.

  “Did you all leave together? You, Bill, and your controller?”

  “No, I left with my controller. Our car was in valet, and Bill had to go back to the office, so he walked.” Abrams was looking at Bennie as if she were nuts. “Does this matter?”

  Linette had left alone. “Not really,” she answered quickly. She didn’t want Abrams to go blabbing to Linette that she knew about him being at the Palm. “I’m asking because I read in the newspaper that Robert might have had dinner last night at the Palm.”

  “Everybody eats there. Most businessmen I know, anyway. It’s the best steakhouse in Center City.”

  “I know, it’s just a coincidence, but I was just wondering if you or Bill ran into him there.”

  “No, I didn’t even see him, and I have no idea if Bill did.”

  But Robert and Mayer were sitting in the window. “It’s odd that you didn’t see Robert when you first went in. He was sitting in one of the windows in front, right near the main entrance.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Indeed. “I think I read it, or somebody told me.”

  “Oh well, we didn’t go in through the main entrance. We drove into the valet, and that’s on the side. We went in the side door, and through the Hyatt.”

  My God. So it was possible. Linette could have done it, even himself. He had the motive, the opportunity, and the knife. And who knew what his dark side was like? “Oh well, let’s not dwell on it. How can I help you make your representation decision? Feel free to ask me anything about our firm.”

  “I’m wondering if you currently have any clients in the class, since Robert’s death.”

  “No, I don’t.” Bennie let it sit there. She wasn’t about to make it up, nor was she about to add, I don’t have many clients at all. “Why do you ask?”

  “I was concerned that since FitCo isn’t as big a company as some of the others, it might not get much attention if we went with one of the other firms, like Bill’s, for example. I think he’d be too wrapped up with Herman Mayer’s company to take us seriously. Herman can be a squeaky wheel, and Linette has lots of other matters, too.”

  “I see. That wouldn’t be a problem here.” We have no other clients. Then Bennie thought for a moment. Maybe she could get more info if she was a little smoother. “You definitely have Herman’s number.”

  “I do, and that’s part of my concern.” Abrams’s face darkened. “Can’t say I’m a fan.”

  Who is? “Do I need to know why?”

  “It’s probably silly,” Abrams said with a sigh. “It might even be prejudice. But my background is Jewish. We lost my aunt and uncle during the Holocaust, in Theresienstadt. Herman’s company was founded during the war, and I have a problem with that. My parents still won’t buy a BMW or a Volkswagen.”

  “So you don’t necessarily want to be at the same firm that Mayer is,” Bennie said, without judgment. She was learning that history died hard. “Well, if you decide to go with us, I think we’d make a good fit.”

  “I think we would too,” Abrams said, rising. He took a second to brush down his neat pleated pants. “I’d like to think it over, if I may. Take a look at the other firms, too.”

  “That makes sense.” Bennie rose with him, her feelings mixed. His tone didn’t sound warm enough to go their way, but she couldn’t stop thinking about Linette. Still, she’d be crazy to let Abrams go. “Mort, feel free to come back to us another day, when we’re more ourselves.”

  “I will,” Abrams said. He bid the associates good-bye, then let Bennie walk him out. She put him into the elevator, hoping it wasn’t the last time she’d see him.

  And hoping that he didn’t tell Linette.

  “I told you! I told you it was Linette!” Judy was standing at the head of the table, her eyes dark with anger. “That guy is a sleaze. Sleaze!”

  “Calm yourself, Carrier,” Bennie said. Now that they were alone in the conference room, she reached into her purse, pulled out the knife, and set it on the table. “This is your
homework.”

  “What?” Carrier asked, and Bennie explained where and how she’d gotten the knife, while the associate picked it up and examined the blade, teasing it with a fingerpad. “This is sharp.”

  “Yep. Sharp enough.”

  “What do you want me to do, boss?”

  “Go down to the medical examiner’s office. Tell him who you are and show him that knife. See if it could have been the type used to kill Robert.”

  Murphy edged her tiny knit butt onto the conference table. “Shouldn’t we also get a copy of the autopsy report? I bet we can finagle it. I have friends in the DA’s office.”

  “It may not be ready yet,” Bennie answered, “but that’s a good idea. If it’s ready, get a copy. Make noises that it’s public record, even though I’m not sure that it is, and maybe they’ll cough it up.”

  “You think Linette did it? Himself, even?” Murphy asked.

  “I just want to follow up,” Bennie answered, and Carrier was listening thoughtfully.

  “Even if it isn’t the same knife, it doesn’t eliminate Linette as a suspect, or Mayer for that matter. He could have used another knife. Lots of people carry penknives, and they’re way easier to get than guns.”

  Murphy snorted. “Guns aren’t that hard to get, either.”

  Bennie looked at her. “You have homework too, kid. You up?”

  “Sure, why wouldn’t I be? What do you have?”

  “First thing, you have some experience with restraining orders, I know.” Bennie felt a guilty twinge, but she needed help. “I hate to remind you of it, but I need to call upon it. Draft a brief for me against Alice, and tell me what I have to do to get an order. Put in all the facts, from the wallet to the break-in to the diamonds. It may not be foolproof, but it doesn’t hurt to have one in place.”

  “Done.”

  “Thanks. Second, you heard Abrams say that Linette told him he was going back to work after dinner. I want that checked out. You know where Linette’s offices are, in that tall gray building. There’s got to be a security desk in the lobby, where tenants sign in and out. I’m wondering when Linette signed in and out last night.”