Funk was stunned. “What? Who? Tell me everything.”
“It was the Renfroes. At least one of them, or maybe both of them. You see, Bridget Fahey was right. Dorlund was right. At least almost right. They had the right basic theory. They just had the wrong people, the wrong defendant.”
“I don’t get it,” Funk said. “Tell me what you mean.”
“Look, here it is.” He got to his feet and starting pacing the room. His voice quivered as he told his tale. “I think that Fahey’s basic theory of the case is right.”
“What do you mean?” Funk interrupted. “We already know that Joseph Cavallaro is the father of Megan’s son.”
“Yes, we do,” Ben agreed “but listen, that doesn’t mean that Greenfield didn’t father someone else’s child, or least think he did.”
“Okay.”
“Remember how everyone on the Reunion Committee seemed to have that list of all the other members of the Committee except Greenfield? Remember how we never could find Greenfield’s list, not in his office, his briefcase or at his apartment?”
“I remember.”
“We could never figure out why Greenfield of all people didn’t have that list like everyone else did. We figured that there had to be something on that list, or least Greenfield’s copy of it, notes or something, that implicated the killer in some way, that caused the killer to steal it to protect himself, or herself. I think we were right. I also think that Bridget Fahey is basically right. Greenfield got killed because he fathered someone else’s baby, or at least he and the killer thought he might have, and the killer didn’t want to find out for sure. So Fahey’s version of the case is basically correct, except that Megan Rand Cavallaro wasn’t the right woman. So let’s ask ourselves, who else is on that Committee with a child about the right age?”
“You mean Sally Renfroe.”
“Yeah, I mean Sally Renfroe. Her son is just a little younger than Megan’s, meaning she got pregnant not long after Megan did, probably while we were still students. I haven’t done the math, but I’d bet I’m right. Let’s assume she was screwing around with Greenfield at about the same time as Megan, or maybe a bit after. From what we’ve heard about Greenfield, he wasn’t going to leave his wife, not willingly, and he wasn’t going to commit to someone else. He had a long relationship with Nora Fleming later on and he wouldn’t commit to her even after he was divorced so why would he commit to Sally when he was still married? He wouldn’t and she probably knew that. Maybe they’d slept together a few times or maybe they’d slept together just once, it doesn’t matter. She gets pregnant and knows she’s in trouble. What does she do?”
Ben was on a roll now, the words shooting out of him like a geyser. “She decides to keep the baby. Any other decision wouldn’t make sense. She’s from Nebraska or someplace. Anything else just wouldn’t do. In the old days, they’d send her off somewhere until the baby was born. They don’t do that now. Besides, she had the bar exam to worry about. Now she needed a cover for the pregnancy. She turns to Peter Renfroe and they get married. One or the other of them told me that they’ve been friends forever. So she’s desperate and she turns to him and he agrees to marry her and raise the kid as his own. So that’s what they do.
“Everything is hunky-dory until this Reunion thing crops up. Remember, Greenfield wasn’t originally on the Committee, but Sally Renfroe was. She got Megan to join, maybe as a buffer for Greenfield once he joined, maybe not. Then Greenfield looks at the list, sees who is on it, and starts thinking. Maybe he found out about the kids. He’s got a lot of time to think about that now that his wife left him. At least two of the women on the Reunion Committee were women he’d previously slept with, maybe more for all we know. Remember, he was doing all that research on DNA and paternity and the legal aspects of them. He wasn’t doing that for a law review article, he was doing that for himself. He looked at Megan and Sally, remembered their past history, did the math, and figured out that he may have a child out there that he didn’t know about, a son no less. He starts poking around and gets killed because of it.”
Brad Funk whistled into the phone. “That’s some theory. So you’re saying that Sally Renfroe killed Greenfield.”
“Sally or Peter or both. Dorlund may have had it just about right. Greenfield may have thought he fathered Megan’s son, or maybe Dorlund assumed he was talking about Megan because he knew of their relationship, and he didn’t know about Sally and Greenfield. Maybe Dorlund misunderstood. Maybe Greenfield was talking about Sally all along.” Ben shook his head and sighed. “Anyway, I should’ve thought of Sally earlier. That was my fault. When I first saw the Committee list, I didn’t know she was married and had any kids. I didn’t think about anyone having an affair with her. I always thought she might be a lesbian, to tell you the truth. By the time I realized all that, my view of her had been filtered through Megan’s perceptions. They were friends and Sally wanted to help out any way she could.”
“She has been awful eager to help out,” Funk agreed. “She did volunteer to be a witness.”
“And Peter Renfroe has been very interested in the case too. Sure, I guess he and Sally are friends of Megan’s, but he’s been in Court all the time. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it earlier. He was in Court today. That’s what made me put it together.”
“I don’t understand,” Funk said.
“I saw him out of the corner of my eye when Sally was taking the stand. Something clicked. A few weeks ago, right before the trial started, I was downtown going out to dinner with Libby and some friends. I was rounding a corner and I bumped into these two guys. They were together, if you know what I mean. I didn’t get a really good look at them - who pays attention to everyone they run into on the street - but I remember that it bugged me at the time. I thought I recognized one of them, but they rounded the corner so quickly it was like they didn’t want to be seen. I sort of put it out of my mind. It wasn’t that important. But now, I’m pretty sure that one of those guys was Renfroe. I got a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye today just like I did that night on a street corner and it all started clicking into place—Greenfield, Sally, Peter, Megan, Reunion Committee, murder. And then when Court adjourned, he looked at me and I looked at him and I think we were both thinking the same thing. Hell, the way I acted in Court, everybody in the room knew that something was going on. I had a brain cramp right there in front of everyone. Only it wasn’t a brain cramp, it was a revelation, and I think Renfroe knows it, or least suspects it. I could tell by the way he looked at me.”
“If that’s true,” Funk said, “then he’s on to you. You have to get a hold of Nelson right away.”
Without thinking, Ben had climbed up into the shoeshine chair, and was leaning over, elbows on knees, talking to Funk. “I tried, but I couldn’t find his number. I must have it here somewhere. I thought of calling Nelson right away. I’ve tried calling Mark, over and over, but there’s no answer.”
“His phone is probably off,” Funk said. “You said you have Nelson’s number here. Where’s here? Where are you?”
“At the office. I’m out in the garage. I just got back. Everybody’s gone. I’ve been going through the files and …” Then Ben heard a rattling sound, then a small knock and he jumped. His heart was pounding more than ever now. He looked around and there, outside the door to the parking lot and waving at him, stood Sally Renfroe. “Jesus Christ,” he said into the phone, “she’s here.”
“What? Who’s there?”
“Sally. Sally’s here. She’s standing outside waving at me. I’ve got to go.”
As Ben rose to his feet and closed the phone, he could hear Brad Funk yelling on the other end of the line. Forcing a smile, Ben tucked the cell phone into his coat pocket with his car keys and walked over to the door. Sally had stopped waving, but her smile was as big as ever. “I figured you were coming here,” she said loudly through the door. “I thought I’d take a chance.”
54
Ben looked down
at the deadbolt lock, took a deep breath and flicked it open. He didn’t know what else he could do. He pulled the door open, stepped aside and Sally walked in. She took off her coat and laid it on one of the barber chairs. He closed the door behind her and locked the deadbolt. Sally turned, still smiling, and said, “You know, I followed you almost all the way out here from downtown. I didn’t realize it was you right away, but eventually I figured it out. It seemed like you were trying to weave in and out of traffic, but then just gave up. I figured you were in here so I walked around from out front. You must not have heard me at the front door.”
Ben shrugged. She got that right. “I didn’t,” he said. It felt like his stomach was rolling over, and he struggled to appear casual. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Like I said, I was more or less following you without really trying and I figured that you were coming out here to the office and I thought, as long as you are out here, and I was heading in this general direction myself, maybe we can go over my testimony one more time to make sure I have it down. What do you think? Unless you’re in the middle of something.” She looked around the cluttered room as though searching for something.
Ben studied her. He didn’t see any hint of calculation on her face. Was this legit? He didn’t know what to do, but knew that he had to do something, either go along or get rid of her, but he had to do it now. Careful not to turn his back to her, Ben took off his overcoat and placed it on the chair next to hers. He smiled again and said, “I’m not sure you need any more practice, but we can go through it one more time if that would make you feel more comfortable.”
“Great,” she said, “I would really feel a lot better if we did that. I don’t want to screw anything up.”
Ben cleared a space at the near end of the conference table, pulled a copy of her direct examination from a file in his briefcase and they took seats opposite each other, Ben facing the door. Although the garage temperature was fairly cool, Ben could feel trickles of sweat rolling down his back from his hairline back behind his ears.
After the first time through, Sally looked up and said, “I have to use the bathroom. It’s right out there in the hall, isn’t it?”
Ben was startled. This was it. This was the moment he’d been fearing. “Sure,” said rising to his feet. He pointed out the door toward the main part of the office. “It’s right out there once you get through the hallway.”
Sally got up and left. Ben watched her not knowing what to do. He thought about making a break for it, but figured he wouldn’t have gotten too far if she were actually planning something. He paced the room and a couple of minutes later, she returned, ready to go through her testimony again. Ben looked at her, trying to read her mind. She looked sincere. He sat down and they continued.
Sally’s direct examination was relatively short, and by seven, they had gone through it twice, made a few small changes, discussed cross-examination and generally felt comfortable with things. She would make a pretty good witness, Ben thought.
Ben forced himself to remain calm, not an easy task, and when they were through, Sally wanted to make small talk. Ben tried to put her off without appearing rude.
“Well,” she said after a moment, “I’m just happy to help Megan out. I think from what I’ve seen, the trial is going very well so far. You guys are doing a great job.”
Ben rolled his eyes. “Thanks. I just hope you’re right.”
He ushered Sally to the front door, they said their goodbyes, and she left, Ben closing the door behind her. He watched her go down the stairs, turn and head for the front parking lot.
Ben knew he wanted to get out of there in a hurry, but he also wanted to find Scott Nelson’s cell phone number. He reached the door to the copy room, stopped and looked through it out toward the garage. He thought he remembered the business card with Nelson’s phone number sitting on his desk next to his phone. He turned and headed down the curving hallway toward the stairs that led to his office. Just as he reached the stairs, Ben heard a noise and froze. What was that? Was that the natural creeks and groans of a hundred-year-old house? Or was it something else? Someone else? Just nerves, he tried to convince himself. He heard it again. The problem with a house like this is that every floorboard creaked and no steps were silent. After a while, you get used to it. But Ben’s feet weren’t moving. He was standing still.
Keeping his feet stationary, Ben turned his upper body and craned to look back down the hallway. The way it curved kept him from seeing very far. He couldn’t see as far back as the lobby, or even the copy room. He looked in the reflection of the windows facing the courtyard—nothing. Across the courtyard, he could see people eating dinner in the pizza place.
Ben felt his knees shake as he considered his options. All the exits on the first floor were behind him, in the direction of the sounds. He looked up the stairs into the darkness and then back out in front of him. One of the renters had an office just up ahead, but that would undoubtedly be locked. The stairs to the basement were just around the corner. The basement consisted of two or three small rooms from the turn of the last century, complete with a leaking stone foundation and God knows what else. Although there was nothing down there in the unfinished space but shelves and storage, Ben thought he might be able to hide down there. There might be tools or something down there he could use as a weapon. He hadn’t been down there in over a year, maybe two and couldn’t remember seeing anything useful. He knew there was a door from the basement to the outside that opened into the parking lot. He took a couple of seconds and racked his brain and couldn’t remember ever seeing that door opened. He didn’t want to get trapped down there. No, that would be a mistake. They might not find him until spring. He shook his head, turned and started creeping up the stairs. He felt the skin on his arms prickle.
Ben took the steps two a time, trying to be as deliberate and quiet as he could. Some of the steps creaked anyway and he winced with every sound. The stairway was a long, narrow tunnel of fourteen steps, which made it difficult to hear any noise coming from below. Ben reached the landing and looked left toward Phil’s office. Where could he go? There was that hidden closet in the back of Phil’s office, however, there was no escape from there. There was no time to detour into his own office to get Nelson’s phone number. He just needed an escape plan. He turned and leaned over so he could see all the way to the bottom of the stairs—still nothing. He looked into the office to the right. There was a storage closet in there, really more of an attic than anything. He hadn’t been in there in years either and couldn’t remember how big it was or if it had an outside entrance onto the roof. No, he could get trapped in there too.
Then he saw the balcony through the window of the office. That’s where Nancy smoked her cigarettes. He could sneak out onto the balcony, then either shimmy down or jump down to the ground below. He felt around the pocket of his pants. Damn, he thought. His car keys and cell phone were still in the pocket of his overcoat, which was sitting on one of the barber chairs in the garage. Had he locked the outside door to the garage when Sally came in? He couldn’t remember. He had to either make it to the garage to get his car keys or make it to the bar next door. He’d be safe at the bar with all those people around. He just couldn’t stand here waiting for the killer to arrive.
Ben moved slowly into Debbie’s office and made his way to the door leading outside. He reached down and eased the deadbolt open. His hands were shaking. Now he felt cold. He tried to pull the door open as quietly as he could, but the pressure pulled the screen door back against the door jam making a slight slamming sound. He pushed through the screen door. Once outside onto the balcony, he turned and placed the door silently back into place. He could smell the remnants of the cigarettes dotting the giant urn that Nancy used as an ashtray.
Ben put both hands on the rickety railing and pushed slightly. It gave a little, too much, he thought. He looked down at the sidewalk below. It was much farther down there once you started thinking about jumping.
If he jumped out far enough, he might be able to catch some grass. If he jumped out too far, he could land in the small, stone fountain Jim Schulte had put in for “ambience.” He spotted a gutter to his left, but would that hold his weight? Not likely. Off in the distance, Ben heard the rumbling of a train approaching. He looked out toward the tracks beyond the parking lot and a gust of wind blew through his hair. It was almost completely dark now, the only lights emanating from the garage and the streetlights scattered around the property. He felt weak in the knees. He was scared.
Ben took a deep breath and started to go over the rail when the window behind him exploded showering him with glass and blowing out a hunk of rail were Ben’s right hand had been a moment earlier. He went to his knees and heard footsteps pounding. He leapt to the screen door to hold it shut just as Peter Renfroe jerked the inside door open and tried to push his way outside. Renfroe was a much bigger man and he had the momentum. The screen door quickly gave way as Ben’s feet skated beneath him. Renfroe screamed and piled through the door.
Ben saw the gun in Renfroe’s right hand and clawed at it as the larger man rolled over him. Ben got a grip on Renfroe’s thumb and pulled it toward him with all his strength trying to loosen Renfroe’s grip on the weapon. Renfroe screamed again. He tumbled over the top of Ben and the gun came loose. The two men scrambled for it like football players diving for a fumble, the gun bouncing hard on the wooden planks of the balcony.
Ben landed on it first, the butt of the gun pressing into his side. He couldn’t get his hands free because he was busy fighting off Renfroe’s charge. Then the gun slid free. Renfroe launched at it with his left hand and Ben blocked him with his right knee. Just when it appeared that Renfroe might have the gun within reach, Ben swung his leg around and swept it under the railing and over the side. Renfroe made one last desperate lunge for it like a sprinter leaving the starting gate. As he dove over Ben’s midsection and toward the railing, Ben bucked his legs and kicked at Renfroe’s body with his feet, sending the Protector crashing into the damaged railing. Renfroe scrambled to hold on. Ben kicked at Renfroe again, until the wood splintered and finally gave way, Renfroe screaming and flailing his arms as he somersaulted headfirst toward the sidewalk below.
Final Exam: A Legal Thriller Page 37
