Mistaken Identity

by Lisa Scottoline

  “Of course she did. She deals drugs, too. A well-rounded felon.” Judy told Mary about her secret boxing lessons and what she’d learned from Ronnie Morales, to Mary’s growing astonishment.

  “I can’t believe this,” Mary said when she was finished.

  “What? The drugs? The murder?”

  “No, the boxing lessons.” Mary felt hurt. “You told me you went to the gynecologist.”

  “I lied. I’m sorry, I had to.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if I told you, you’d come with me, and your mother would kill us both.”

  “Silly.” Mary smiled. “My mother would only kill you.”

  42

  Because it was after the prison’s business hours, Bennie had to wait in the interview room for Connolly. She couldn’t remember feeling so drained. She had rowed in regattas, powered single sculls with sheer muscle and grit, and still never felt this enervated. Fatigue after a race always produced a vague, if drowsy, euphoria and a feeling of accomplishment, but this tiredness was of a darker sort. A bone-deep weariness that came partly from grief and partly from having to contain grief. She straightened up in the plastic chair, folded and unfolded her hands on the smooth Formica counter, then finally clasped them together in her lap.

  Bennie startled at a loud ca-chunka and she looked up to see Connolly being led into the secured hallway to the interview room. The inmate’s stride was strong as she walked down the corridor, and Bennie realized that the usual noise level had prevented her from ever hearing those footfalls. Connolly walked like Bennie, fast and slightly duck-toed. It had always bothered her mother, who used to say, “Walk with your legs together, like a lady.”

  “What did you say?” Connolly asked, her expression puzzled as she walked through the door into the inmate’s half of the room.

  “What?”

  “You said something about the way I walk.”

  “No, I didn’t. I said…” Bennie’s voice failed her, then she took a deep breath. “You’d better sit down. I have bad news.”

  “About my case? Is something wrong?” Connolly took a seat and leaned forward over the counter. “I knew it. I knew something was going on. I could feel it.”

  “No, your case is fine. It’s worse than that. My mother has, well, passed on. In the hospital. She wasn’t in any pain, and she wasn’t alone.”

  “Fuck, that’s a relief,” Connolly blurted out, then froze when she saw Bennie’s stunned expression. “I mean, it’s a relief she didn’t suffer,” Connolly added quickly, but Bennie fell against the back of her chair as if pushed.

  “That’s not what it sounded like. It sounded like you were relieved that she—”

  “Died? Of course I’m not relieved that she died. Why would I be? Shit, that’s not what I meant.”

  “No? Do you even care?”

  “Oh, Christ.” Connolly raked a hand through her coppery hair. “Oh, all right, I was relieved it wasn’t about my case, okay? They wake me up and tell me my lawyer’s here after hours. What else would it be about? You said we don’t talk about personal things, like our mother, so the last thing I expect is that you’d come up to talk about her. I didn’t even know she was that sick. I thought she was mental or something. You can’t die from that, can you?”

  “Evidently.”

  “Well, that’s too bad. I’m sorry. For both of us.” Connolly nodded, though Bennie couldn’t help but notice that her tone was matter-of-fact. Maybe everybody was right about Connolly. Maybe she was heartless, a killer. A drug dealer, like Carrier suspected.

  “You know,” Bennie said, “I did have something come up in your case today. One of my associates thinks you were involved in selling drugs, with the wives of the boxers.”

  “Give me a break.” Connolly laughed ruefully, and Bennie’s gut twisted.

  “That’s not a denial. Your line is, ‘That’s not true.’ ‘That’s absurd.’ ‘I’m surprised you would even suggest such a thing.’ ”

  “It’s not true.” Connolly’s stony glare met Bennie’s dubious one. “I swear, I didn’t have anything to do with dope. I knew the boxers’ wives, but I certainly didn’t sell drugs with them.”

  “One of the wives was named Valencia. I don’t know her last name. I understand she’s here, in this prison. Do you know her?”

  Connolly’s eyes flickered. “No. I don’t know any Valencia and I didn’t have anything to do with any drugs. Neither did Anthony, no matter what your little associate says.”

  Bennie sagged in the chair, spent. Confused. Angry, hurting, and screwing up a major case. Every day she was finding out another way Connolly had lied to her. First, Bullock. Now this drug thing. Bennie faced up to something she had been thinking on the drive to the prison tonight. “I told you not to lie to me and you did, and I can’t trust you anymore. I can’t go forward, especially now … with my mother. I’ll get you another lawyer, the best in criminal practice.”

  “You’re pulling out on me?”

  “Not completely. I’ll be there watching you from the front row, but I can’t be trial counsel, not now. My mother died. She deserves to be mourned.”

  “And what do I deserve?” Connolly spat back, and Bennie leaned forward, angry.

  “This isn’t about you. This is about a woman who you claim bore you. How come your own mother’s death doesn’t even faze you?”

  “Please forgive me for not crying.” Connolly’s mouth twisted bitterly. “My mother never gave a flying fuck about me. She abandoned me as soon as she saw me. You’re the one she cared about. You’re the one she kept. So you’ll understand if my only concern is my own ass. I’m selfish as sin. I get it from my mother.”

  Bennie flinched, shaken to the core. She couldn’t bear to hear anybody talk that way about her mother, especially now. Suddenly she felt no more like Connolly’s twin than she had the day they met. She rose stiffly and went to the door. She wanted Connolly out of her sight.

  “You’re not getting out of this case now, Rosato,” Connolly shouted. “I read the papers, I see the news. We’re the lead story. The media is eating it up and the jury will, too. Nobody can pull off the twin defense but my twin.”

  Bennie felt sick inside, trapped. “Guard!” she called through the door, though she knew the guard would be watching her.

  “Fuck you!” Connolly shouted as the guard appeared, and the curse reverberated inside Bennie’s skull all the way back to the office.

  Bennie switched on the lights in her firm’s reception area and walked past the empty secretaries’ desks. The printers and fax machines had been turned off, as had the associates’ office lights, and Bennie could see from the brushed nap of the carpet that the cleaning ladies had come and gone. It was good to know that her law firm took care of itself, because right now she couldn’t take care of another thing.

  She entered her office and sat down at her desk. Her business correspondence was covered by a pile of sympathy cards in shades of pink, lavender, and gray. The sight made her throat feel thick, and she set them aside without opening any. She didn’t want to feel sympathy right now. She didn’t want to feel anything.

  Under the cards lay the letter to Judge Guthrie that Carrier had drafted, requesting a continuance. Bennie crumpled it up and pitched it into the waste can, shaking her head. Never had her decision-making been so screwy on a case. She shouldn’t have undertaken the representation in the first place. She had been wrong, terribly wrong, and she had to straighten it out.

  Bennie punched a key on her computer and started drafting a motion, requesting that she be permitted to withdraw from the representation and also argued an alternative, as most lawyers did, for a postponement of a week because of a death in her family. She’d leave it with directions for Carrier to file ASAP and explain to the associates later why the boss had flip-flopped. After she finished the motion, she drafted and faxed letters to the two best criminal defense lawyers in Philly, offering them the Connolly representation. Both would jump at the chan
ce to take on the high-profile matter.

  But Bennie felt nothing like relief as she handed Connolly’s fate to another.

  Almost as soon as Bennie opened the front door to her house, Grady swept her into his arms. He had clearly waited up for her, still dressed in his work clothes, a rumpled white oxford shirt and wrinkled suit pants. “Jeez, babe, I’m so sorry,” he said softly. “I’ve been trying to reach you everywhere. Are you okay?”

  “I guess,” she said, though the words sounded hoarse, even to her. She remained in his embrace only reluctantly, not so much because she didn’t want to be held by him, but because she didn’t want to be held at all. “I think things are pretty much under control now.”

  “I should have been there. I’m so sorry.” Grady squeezed her tighter and she could hear him groan. “I was in a meeting over this stupid merger. I didn’t get to make any calls and I didn’t get your message until late.”

  “It’s okay, there wasn’t anything you could do anyway. I picked out what I had to, and Hattie was with her, at the end.” Bennie squirmed in Grady’s arms but he held fast.

  “It’s good Hattie was there.”

  “Yes,” Bennie said, having suddenly run out of conversation. She didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to be touched. She wanted only to go upstairs, lie down, and feel miserable. Maybe treat herself to another good, long cry. “Can I go now?” she blurted out, and Grady laughed abruptly and released her.

  “Sure, honey, I’m sorry.”

  “I’m just tired. I need to lie down.” She felt a nudge against her leg and looked down at the golden retriever leaning into her, his tail down. Bear’s body warmed her thigh, and she scratched the flyaway hair behind his ear. “Dogs are good,” she said, her voice thick.

  “Let’s go upstairs. I’ll tuck you in.”

  “I can tuck myself in.”

  “Whether you know it or not, you need me now. I’m taking you upstairs and putting you to bed. Understand?”

  Bennie smiled, though somehow even that hurt. “Okay,” she said, and permitted herself to be led upstairs to bed and tucked in like a very small girl.

  43

  Early next morning, Judy stood in the sunny conference room and read the faxed order again and again, as if that would change the result: “IT IS HEREBY ORDERED that the Defense Counsel’s Motion for Withdrawal and, In the Alternative, for a Postponement is hereby DENIED.” “I don’t get this,” Judy said. “How could he deny it?”

  “Guthrie denied our motion, in its entirety? No withdrawal? Not even a continuance?” Mary, standing next to her, flipped over the top page of the order. “There’s not even an opinion. There’s no explanation at all.”

  “He doesn’t have to explain anything, he’s a judge.”

  “This is a sin. Bennie can’t possibly work this case. Her mother just died, for God’s sake. He can’t give her a week off, even three days?”

  Judy shook her head. “I guess he’s figuring that she got the standard three days, if you count from Thursday. That would be Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Jury selection is set for this Monday, with opening arguments right afterwards.”

  “Can we file an appeal?”

  Judy looked over. “No, whiz. It’s an interlocutory order, not appealable until the case is over.”

  “I knew that. It was a trick question.”

  Judy smiled, thinking. “I suppose we could file some kind of emergency order or maybe a petition for misconduct, but that wouldn’t help. The Superior Court wouldn’t intervene on an emergency basis for something within a judge’s discretion. Even if we filed a misconduct petition, the only remedy is a reprimand.”

  “I knew that, too.”

  “What did you know?”

  “What you said.”

  Judy smiled, then it faded quickly. “I hate to bother Bennie with this. Do I have to call her at home?”

  “Of course. We have no choice. She can work at home if we feed her the information we have.” Mary gestured at the papers on the conference table. “I found out Burden’s still out of the country, I can write her a memo. I can dictate my notes on the neighborhood survey and send her a copy by messenger. Then I could draft a cross-examination of the Commonwealth witnesses.”

  “That should help.”

  “I’m a fountain of helpfulness. What are you going to do?”

  “Correct your work, as always,” Judy said, and reached for the phone to call Bennie.

  At home, Bennie sat on the edge of the bed in her white terrycloth bathrobe, holding the phone after the associate briefed her fully and hung up. Bennie couldn’t think of a single judge who would have denied that request, at least for the postponement, and it was out of character for the well-bred Harrison Guthrie. Stunned, she held the telephone receiver in midair, and Grady plucked it from her hand and placed it on the cradle.

  “Why did he deny it?” Grady asked. He was dressed in jeans and a gray T-shirt, and he’d gotten up early, brewed fresh coffee, and made French toast that Bennie hadn’t touched.

  “We don’t know. There was no opinion, just the order.”

  “He denied the postponement, too? What could he be thinking?”

  “God knows.” Bennie shook her head. Her temples throbbed and her eyes felt dry and sticky. She sagged with exhaustion after a sleepless night. Bear trotted over, setting his large head on her thigh, and she scratched it idly. “Maybe my motion wasn’t good enough. Maybe I should have found a case, some precedent.”

  “No.” Grady folded his arms. “That wouldn’t make the difference. He’s on solid grounds legally, but as a matter of custom, you think at least he’d give you a postponement. It’s common decency.”

  “Maybe it was the press coverage. Maybe he wants it over with.”

  “That can’t be it. This decision will cause more criticism, won’t it? When it gets out that your mother has passed and he wouldn’t even grant a week’s extension? Hell, everybody’s got a mother. Guthrie’s got to run for reelection some day.”

  “He’s getting on, maybe he’s not worried about reelection,” Bennie said, but even as she spoke she knew it didn’t make sense. All judges worried about reelection, if not their reputation. “It’s like he’s hell-bent on screwing me.”

  “That’s possible. You’re not the most popular lawyer in town, except with me.”

  “Wait a minute,” Bennie said, her brain waking up suddenly. Maybe it was personal, but maybe it wasn’t directed at her. What had Connolly said, that first day they met? I think the judge is in on it, too. “Maybe Judge Guthrie is in on it.”

  “In on what?”

  “A conspiracy against Connolly.”

  “A what?”

  “Think about it, Grady. Who gets hurt most by this decision? Connolly.” Bennie’s thoughts cleared like fog. It all fell into place. “I’m sitting here, all wrapped up in myself, but it’s Connolly’s life on the line. With this ruling, she gets stuck with a lawyer who doesn’t have the time or the energy to prepare for trial. What does that do to her chance of winning?”

  “But a conspiracy, involving Guthrie?”

  “It’s not impossible. Somebody’s taking aim, and I’m not the target, she is. Think back. First, somebody leaks to the press that Connolly’s my twin. Second, somebody at the bar association starts screwing with my license. Third, I don’t get the extension the first time I apply, even though it was reasonable. Now I don’t get an extension even after my mother passes. It stinks, Grady, and it goes all the way up to Judge Guthrie.”

  “Bennie.” Grady grabbed a chair, yanked it across the plywood subfloor toward the bed, and sat down. “Listen to yourself. You’re saying that a Common Pleas Court judge is plotting against a criminal defendant. How likely is that?”

  “It’s possible,” Bennie said, alert for the first time in what seemed like years. “Guthrie got his judgeship because of Henry Burden. Burden was the D.A. and knows everybody in law enforcement. Connolly says the cops framed her for this, and the police
response to the scene — the timing — is suspicious. Even if Connolly was selling drugs—”

  “Connolly was selling drugs?” Grady interrupted, and Bennie realized she hadn’t told him that.

  “Grady, assume the cops killed Della Porta and framed Connolly for it, why can’t a judge be involved, too? You never heard of judicial corruption? On the Common Pleas Court bench? Please. Years ago the roofers were paying cash for cases, Grady. Cash.”

  “Connolly is a liar. She’s lying about being framed and she’s lying about being your twin. Now you’re telling me she’s a drug dealer? She’s manipulating—”

  “We don’t know she lied about any of that, Grady. She agreed to the DNA test, did I tell you that? We both gave blood yesterday. Or the day before that.” Bennie rubbed her eyes. Her mother’s death had chased every other thought from her head.

  “No, you didn’t tell me, but don’t infer so much from the fact she agreed.”

  “Why not? You’d infer an awful lot if she refused. So would I.”

  Grady cocked his head. “She could have agreed to string you along. Or maybe she believes she’s your twin. Who knows?”

  Bennie sighed, exasperated and confused. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something was definitely fishy about Judge Guthrie’s order. She sprang up from the bed, jolting the golden retriever from her lap. “I have to get dressed.”

  “What? Why?” Grady asked, startled. “You going to work?”

  “Not exactly,” she answered, and hurried to shower.

  44

  “My goodness! Ms. Rosato, you, eh, don’t have an appointment, do you?” The judge’s aged receptionist looked startled behind her bifocals and double-checked the appointment book lying open on her desk. Her slim hand bore an Irish wedding band, and Bennie could smell her lemony hand lotion from across the desk.