Mistaken Identity

by Lisa Scottoline

“Wait right there, sir,” barked the guard, a heavyset black man in a blue shirt. A baseball bat with duct tape around its handle rested in the corner next to his perch. “Lady says you stole her bag.”

  “I didn’t!”

  Bennie feigned surprise. “My goodness, how silly of me. I just remembered. I didn’t bring my purse today. I’m so sorry.”

  The guard scowled, looking from Bennie to the young man. “Sorry about that, sir. If you have no library materials to declare, you’re free to go.”

  “Thanks,” he said, though Bennie clamped a hand on his shoulder.

  “I have no library materials,” she told the disapproving guard and pressed through the exit into the sunlight. The streets were alive with businesspeople, summer tourists, and heavy traffic. Bennie tightened her grip on the kid and pressed him out of the foot traffic and toward Logan Circle. “I have to talk to you about Alice Connolly. I’m trying to help her. If you don’t talk to me now, I’ll subpoena you. Either way, we’re gonna have a chat.”

  “You won’t hurt me, will you?”

  “I’m a lawyer, not a thug.”

  “Is there a difference?” the kid called back, and Bennie gave him points for humor. She led him by the elbow across the street and walked him to the benches under the shade trees around Swann Fountain.

  “Now,” Bennie said, “how do you know Alice Connolly?” She plopped him onto a bench and stood over him, close as a lover.

  “I don’t know Alice Connolly.”

  “You want me to call the cops? Right now?”

  “You gonna say I took your purse again?” He pouted up at Bennie in the hazy sun.

  “I’m gonna say you’re obstructing justice in a capital murder case. How do you know Alice Connolly?”

  The kid slumped into the bench, his back spiny in the thin T-shirt. His forehead looked damp to his George Clooney hairline. “Okay, I know Alice. Knew her.”

  “Did she come to the library to write?”

  “Yes, for a while.”

  “What were you doing there?”

  “Papers, for school. I’m at the Academy. PAFA.”

  “Did you meet her in the library?”

  “Yes.”

  “When?”

  “Fall semester, the year before last. She was new in town. So was I.”

  “What was your relationship?”

  “We were friends. We talked about things. Not much though. She was kind of hard to get to know. She would work on the computer, I would do research or sketch. We’d break for lunch. You know, friends.” His prominent Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, and Bennie didn’t have to be a detective to come up with the next question.

  “You didn’t date?”

  “No.”

  “But you wish you did.”

  “Does it show?” He squinted at Bennie, and she sat beside him on the bench. It was too hot to be shaking down the heartbroken.

  “Don’t run away now. I’ll chase you and make you wear plaid.”

  “I believe it.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Sebastian Blair.”

  “Bennie Rosato.” She shook his hand and it buckled in her grasp. “You talk to the cops about Alice?”

  “I never talked to the police about anything. I’ve never been in trouble in my life. I don’t want to get in trouble now.”

  “Relax. Just talk to me and you can go on your way. You thought I was Alice.”

  “Yeah. Are you related?”

  Bennie wiped her brow. “So let’s talk. I want to help Alice and I need to know what you know about her. What was the story between you and Alice?”

  “I was in love. She wasn’t. We stayed friends. I never even told her.”

  “This was when?”

  “September.”

  “Alice was living with someone at the time, a cop. Did you know that?”

  He nodded regretfully. “They weren’t solid.”

  “No?”

  “Her boyfriend was at the gym all the time, I think he worked out, or boxed or something. She used to go with him to the gym, when she wasn’t working on the computer at the library.”

  “She told you this?”

  “Yeah. Then, in October she met someone else, another guy. Then she stopped coming to the library.”

  “Where’d she meet this other guy?”

  “I don’t know. He didn’t hang at the library. He looked like a lawyer.”

  Bennie frowned. “A lawyer? What was his name?”

  “I don’t know. She never said.”

  “You didn’t press it?”

  “No.”

  Bennie sighed. “Sebastian. You lose the woman to another man and you don’t bother to find out who he is?”

  The artist smiled weakly. “I tried, but she didn’t want to talk about him. She didn’t want to talk much after she met the lawyer. After a while, she stopped coming to the library. She kind of ditched me.”

  “Her boyfriend was murdered in May of last year. I need to know her whereabouts that day. When she came and left the library, even what she was wearing.”

  “Can’t help you there. She stopped coming to the library a long time before that.” He looked away, at the Swann Fountain, and Bennie followed his gaze. For the first time she noticed three kids playing in the fountain, drenched to their shorts and T-shirts, oblivious to the workday crowd. They kicked and splashed in the circular pool, and Bennie was distracted by the slick nudes at the fountain’s center.

  “You think she was sleeping with this lawyer?” Bennie asked.

  “Duh.”

  “So who was he?”

  “Some rich guy. He drove a Mercedes. He came by once or twice to pick her up.”

  “What kind of Mercedes?”

  “Sedan. New.”

  “What color?”

  “Shit brown.”

  Bennie tried to puzzle it out. Connolly hadn’t told her any of this. “What did the lawyer look like?”

  “Rich. Preppy.” The young man’s chin sunk onto his hand, like a lovesick version of The Thinker, which sat in front of the Rodin Museum down the Parkway. “Mainly he looked richer and preppier than me.”

  “Was he white or black? Light hair, dark hair? Sebastian, you’re an artist, with an alleged eye for detail. Give me a description.”

  “I can’t. The subject depresses me, and I’m no good with words.”

  “Can you draw him, then?”

  Sebastian raised his chin from his hand. “You gotta pencil?”

  20

  Alice stood behind the inmates at the computers. Their blue shirts bent over the keyboards and they poked at the keys. Her cellie hunted-and-pecked in the middle, and two seats from her was Valencia, reeking like a funeral home. Leonia anchored the end of the row, a mountain of muscle next to Shetrell and the rest of her crew.

  Alice kept her eye on them, wondering about last night. There had to be a contract out on her. It would have come to Shetrell, who was connected inside and out. But why? And from who? It didn’t make sense, but Alice wasn’t taking any chances, not with freedom this close. She knew how to deal with it. Leonia, not Shetrell, would do the dirty work. Alice strolled down the row of do-rags and Muslims and stopped when she got to Leonia’s chair. “How’s it going, girl?”

  “S’all right,” Leonia said, without turning around.

  “You should save that document. You typed a page already. You don’t want to lose it.”

  “I did save it.”

  “No, you didn’t. If you did, it wouldn’t say Document One at the top, right here.” Alice reached over and pointed at the monitor screen. “It would have a name.”

  “Uh-huh,” Leonia said after a moment.

  “So save it.”

  Leonia sat still in front of the keyboard. Her short hair made a spiky silhouette in front of the bright white monitor. Alice knew Leonia had no idea how to save the fucking thing. She could smell her brain overheat.

  “Leonia, you know how to save it, don’
t you? Move the cursor to FILE and click. Then click SAVE.”

  Leonia moved the mouse, then clicked SAVE with deliberation. A blue-bordered window popped onto the screen, and she sat still again, stumped. Alice smiled. This bitch was going to take her out? She didn’t have the gray matter to double-click.

  “You have to name the document before you can save it, Leonia. Type the name in the blank window.” Alice glanced at Leonia’s document. “Is it your resume?”

  “Yuh.”

  “So what would you name the file? Remember what I taught you about file names? Name it what it is. So name it ‘resume.’ ”

  Leonia typed, “R E S U M A Y.”

  “Perfect.” Alice held a critic’s finger to her chin. “The resume looks very good. What kind of job are you looking for when your bit’s done, Leonia? Doctor? Lawyer? Contract killer?”

  Leonia kept staring at her monitor.

  “I see.” Alice folded her arms and bounced on the tips of her feet. “Keeping your options open. Smart move. Very smart. Don’t want to be mired in a life of crime, stuck in that vicious cycle of the repeat offender. The possibilities are endless for a woman of your skills and abilities.”

  Leonia glanced over her shoulder coldly. Shetrell’s slitted gaze slid to the side. The black-uniformed guard standing at the door cracked a smile, but none of the do-rags or Muslims did.

  “Class, everybody look up a minute.” Alice clapped to get their attention. “Everybody, eyes up! Everybody, give me your attention!”

  Heads popped up from the keyboards, ten of them. Diane looked dull-normal and Valencia was attentive, tossing glossy curls back onto her shoulders.

  “We can all take a lesson from this lady,” Alice said, slapping a hearty hand on Leonia’s shoulder. “If you’re working on your resume, keep it good and general. Don’t limit yourself. You can do anything you set your mind to, like Leonia!”

  Valencia grinned, completely missing the irony. Diane blinked stupidly. Leonia glared at the monitor. Shetrell went rigid with anger.

  “You can make your dreams come true!” Alice called out, managing to keep a straight face. “One person can make a difference! All you have to do is work out every day! And save your documents at the end of the page!”

  Valencia burst into spontaneous applause. “Ees the truth!” she shouted, and Alice curtsied deeply.

  21

  Bennie hiked the ten blocks back to the office, sweating by the time she turned the corner onto Locust Street, where she halted in surprise. The front door to her building was blocked by news vans, their brightly colored logos an alphabet that spelled disaster. Could something have happened at her office? She didn’t get halfway up the block before the reporters rushed toward her.

  “Ms. Rosato, is Alice Connolly your long-lost twin?” “How does it feel to have your twin sister in jail, Bennie?” “What’s it like to represent your own flesh and blood?”

  “No comment,” Bennie shot back, shocked. She knew the twin story would break sooner or later, but this was sooner than she’d thought.

  Cameramen pushed videocams into her face. Reporters coagulated around her, jabbing the air with microphones. “Ms. Rosato, Ms. Rosato, have you seen the district attorney’s statement?” “Do you have any reaction?”

  “No comment!” Bennie answered, thinking furiously ahead. The D.A. knew and was making statements. That meant the whole city knew. How? She plowed ahead, parting reporters with her briefcase like a prow does icebergs. “I have no comment on the matter.”

  “Come on, Rosato, cut us a break!” “No comment at all?” “Is Connolly guilty or innocent?” “What do you say to the criticism by the bar association? Reports have it that you failed to take courses in legal ethics. They’re revoking your license to practice law. Any comment?”

  “None at all!” Bennie spat out, so infuriated she didn’t care that the camera recorded her reaction. What was going on? Every lawyer was behind on the ethics requirement, they were going to yank her license? She ducked into her building, ran up the stairs, and by the time she reached the third floor, was beside herself. “Did you see them? They’re all out front,” she said to Marshall, who sat worriedly at her desk in the waiting area.

  “I know.” Marshall’s French braid had loosened and stray wisps of hair had slipped out. “I tried to reach you at home this morning, but you were already gone. I tried your cell phone, too, but it was off. They’ve been calling all day. The story was on the news by midmorning.”

  “They’re screwing with my license. Without a license, I can’t represent Connolly. Without a license, I can’t represent anybody. They can’t put me on inactive. Do I look inactive?”

  “I warned you.”

  “I know, but this stinks to high heaven.”

  “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.”