For the crime of being the chosen one.
29
Bennie had thrown herself on her couch, head back against the hard wooden frame, legs splayed, trying to catch her breath. Listening to her heart thunder in her chest. Feeling the hardness of every muscle in her legs, pumped taut and engorged with blood, still racing. She had fumbled her way through the backdoor, dropped her briefcase on the floor, thrown her purse on the couch. She had run all the way home, from the east end of town to the west, well over an hour, and was only now coming back to herself.
Bear sat at her feet, swishing his tail against the floor, in sheer delight that he’d been freed from the basement, even if his mistress had lost her marbles. Bennie had no idea why she had run home. She had no idea what time it was. It was still light outside, but it was waning. Her cell phone rang and rang. She caught her breath, groped for her purse, shoved her sweaty hand inside it, and rummaged around. The cell felt smooth and familiar in her palm. She opened the phone. Oh yes, I remember now. I’m a lawyer. I talk on the cell phone all day.
“Bennie, are you there? Are you okay?” It was David, sounding as hysterical as a SEAL gets. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m okay. I’m fine.” Bennie brushed wet curls from her forehead. Her suit and shirt felt glued to her body. “I’m really fine.”
“What happened? Why did you run like that?”
“I don’t know.”
“You weren’t being chased.”
“I know. I had to get away.”
“Bennie, you have to answer when I call. I’ve been dialing and leaving messages since you got in. I was a minute from calling 911.”
“Sorry.” She tried to think, but her brain was too tired. The phone hadn’t rung, or she hadn’t heard it. “Did I blow it? Did Alice see you?”
“No. No. I let you run on, I knew where you were going. You are so quick, woman. You haul ass!”
Bennie smiled. “Thanks, I think.”
“I don’t think I was seen.”
“Did you see her?”
“No.”
“Have you seen her at all?”
“No, but she’s there. Bet on it. This is when it matters, at night. If she makes any move on you, it’ll be after dark.”
“I don’t know, David.” Bennie raked her hair back again, wiping her cheeks. “I don’t know if this makes sense.”
“Why? What do you mean?”
“How long can we do this? Maybe she’s not even there. Maybe this whole thing is crazy. I should just give up. I have so much to do.”
“Bennie, listen to me.” David seemed to bear down. “You listening?”
“No, I have calls to make. I should call the office. See if DiNunzio called in.”
“Forget about work now.”
“I should call Julien, the St. Amiens. I said I’d call if I had anything new to report.”
“Forget it for now. It can wait until the morning.”
“We got the case back again.”
“That’s nice, dear. Now, no more shop talk. Can you turn it off?”
“I should call Carrier and Murphy, and tell them to follow up on Linette. I should call Sam and tell him I’m back in business on the class action.”
“Linette can wait. Sam can wait. Everything can wait. For now, just rest. Don’t think. Breathe.”
“I am.”
“No phone calls. No work. No nothing. You need to get calm.”
“I know.”
“Nothing works if you fall apart, does it?”
“No.”
“’Ain’t nobody happy when Mama ain’t happy.’”
“Huh?”
“You never heard that?”
“No.”
“The gist is, we have to take care of you now. You don’t have any food in the house, do you?”
Bennie snorted. “What do you think?”
“Any booze?”
“Does Gatorade count?”
“Only original flavor. The blue sucks.”
Bennie laughed. She was beginning to like this conversation. It was a working girl’s version of phone sex.
“Get yourself something to drink. Water, at least.”
Her mouth did feel parched. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. She’d left the Palm doggie bag in the office refrigerator.
“Go now. Take the phone with you. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine,” Bennie said, but when she got up, she felt dizzy. She sat back down. “Where are you anyway?”
“I’m out back. I checked your alley, your backdoor, and back windows. Everything looks fine. I like your new bars, in the back.”
“Do you have your water yet?”
“Coming, Mother.” Bennie rocked herself off the couch, one, two, three, and stood until the dizziness passed, then kicked off her shoes and padded into the kitchen. Her feet were wet, and between her toes her foot powder had turned to Spackle. “Here I go, into the kitchen.” She left pasty Desenex footprints that Bear crouched to sniff, but she didn’t tell David. Athlete’s foot wasn’t first-date conversation.
“What happened with the cops? And before that, at the St. Amiens? But first, drink.”
So Bennie filled him in while she got herself a glass of water, took a gulp between sentences, then eased down her tile wall and sat on the floor to finish the story, cross-legged and talking on the phone like a kid in high school. It was a chummy feeling, trading sentences with David, answering his questions and hearing his views, there in the stillness of her cozy kitchen, with only Bear as a witness.
By the end of the conversation, her breathing had returned to normal and her clothes felt dry. She was feeling so good and calm inside. It had been such a long time since she’d had a man in her life that even one on a cell phone could give comfort. It had been a long time since she’d even been in the company of a man. Heard a deeper voice in her ear. Considered a different way of looking at the world. Had someone agree with her, and more important, disagree.
“David?” she blurted out, right when he was in the middle of a sentence.
“Yes?”
But she couldn’t say more. She didn’t know what she wanted to say. Okay, maybe she did. She just didn’t know how to say it.
“What?” he asked, waiting.
She let it pass. “Where are you now?”
“Watching your house. From the front now.”
“What’s going on out there?”
“It’s dark out, and people are finishing dinner.” David’s voice sounded calm, steady, and unhurried. Unworried. If he’d been wondering what she was going to say, he wasn’t wondering anymore. “An old man near you just put his trash out, only half a bag. He did a very neat job with his newspapers, all folded. Little girls who live on your side of the street are jumping on the bed, on the second floor, in the front room. There’s a poster on their wall of Britney Spears. And your neighbor was washing her dishes by hand, in her kitchen in the back. Her window is open, over the sink. If you’re in the kitchen, you should be able to hear her, if she’s still at it. Is she?”
Bennie listened and heard it faintly. The clinking of silverware. A sweetly domestic sound she remembered from her childhood. Her mother had never had a dishwasher. Bennie leaned her head back against the base cabinet and closed her eyes. Missing her mother, and listening. She hadn’t heard that small sound in years. She was never home at this hour. She missed the sound and savored it, both at the same time, holding the thickness in her throat, like a sliver of milk chocolate you knew would melt away too soon, making it all the more precious. She missed her mother so much; she was with her right now. It was a paradox Bennie had never understood until this minute.
“And your neighbor on the other side is practicing his guitar, in front of the window. He’s pretty good. It’s classical, but it’s slow. Nice. Can you hear that, too?”
Bennie didn’t know if she could; she just wanted him to go on. She kept her eyes closed, letting the wetness slip from beneath her lids. It would do her good, wash the city soot out of her eyes.
“People are walking their dogs. Somebody has a yellow lab out here, with a red bandanna. I hate dogs in clothes. God meant dogs to be naked. Hey, doesn’t Bear have to go out?”