“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.”
“DiNunzio? You know him?”
Mary shook her head. “No.”
“Why? Who is he?” Judy asked, and Bennie waved them into the chairs across from her desk and told them everything she’d learned at the library. She began to get a handle on the situation as she spoke and its implications crystallized. If Connolly had a lover, then she’d not only lied about the happiness of her relationship with Della Porta, she may have lied about where she was the day of the murder. Worse, she’d given herself a motive to kill Della Porta. If the D.A. knew about it, he’d have a field day. Bennie felt unsettled, her confidence in Connolly shaken.
“I don’t like surprises, not this close to trial,” Judy said. Her worried features were as readable as a Girl Scout’s. “If Connolly didn’t tell you about this, she’s lying to us.”
“I’ve never had an inmate not lie about something,” Bennie said defensively. “The only question is whether they lie about something important.”
“This is important.”
“Maybe not. Maybe the lawyer is married and she wanted to keep the affair a secret. Or maybe it was irrelevant, so she didn’t mention it.” Bennie heard herself making excuses for Connolly, but she didn’t want to start in with Judy again, not today. “In any event, don’t tell me how bad the news is. We’re advocates, remember? Tell me how we can deal with it if it comes up at trial. Turn it to our client’s advantage.”
Mary fought the impulse to raise her hand. “Maybe we can offer this lawyer as a suspect. You know, suggest to the jury that he’s the killer.”
Bennie brightened. She should have thought of that herself, but she’d been too preoccupied with Connolly’s betrayal, her license to practice, and the evening news. “Sure. If Connolly has a boyfriend, she has a motive to kill Della Porta-but so does he. He’s a jealous lover.”
“That’s lame,” Judy scoffed. “Connolly and Della Porta weren’t even married.”
Bennie checked her impatience. “We have to develop it, find out a little more. We don’t have to convince the jury that this lawyer did it. We just have to make it colorable, give it some weight. Make it plausible enough for reasonable doubt.”
“That’s what I meant.” Mary nodded. She could always take credit, couldn’t she? This was America, and it was her right as an employee. “So, do you want us to try and identify this lawyer?”
Bennie shook her head. “No, I have something important I want you two to do. What do you know about boxing?”
“Boxing is cool,” Judy said. “I watch it on TV sometimes. Tuesday Night Fights.”
“Good.” Bennie relaxed. Carrier could be a tiger if she was working on something that interested her. “How about you, DiNunzio? You a fight fan?”
“Boxing?” Mary wrinkled her nose. “I think it’s disgusting. People trying to give each other concussions. I’ve never watched a fight past the first round.”
“You’re about to become an expert. I want you to go to the gym where Anthony’s fighter trains. I want you to see if he’s talking to the D.A. Find out if he’s testifying.” Bennie scribbled an address on a yellow Post-it and handed it across her desk to Mary, who took it reluctantly.
“But I’m supposed to be interviewing Della Porta’s neighbors. There’s so much work-”
“Carrier can’t go alone, not to this neighborhood. You’re going with her, for protection.”
“Protection? Me?”
Judy grinned. “Kapow!” she shouted, throwing an imaginary punch.
22
The gym was in North Philadelphia, far from the glistening business district. Going north on Broad Street, the white marble of City Hall was replaced by the red plastic of Kentucky Fried Chicken, the dark glass of vacant storefronts, and the fake wood paneling of check-cashing agencies with lines around the corner, like opening day of a first-run movie. Unemployment was higher in this area and the evidence was on every street corner, where the homeless shook McDonald’s cups of change. And if the City Hall area was spotless, the result of hard work by a privately funded team of uniformed cleaners, the north end of town was littered with newspapers, coffee cups, and cigarettes. This was why they used to call the city “Filthydelphia,” but nobody was hiring green-uniformed elves to clean this part of the city, and never would.
Judy surveyed the scene from the window of the cab. They sped by a used-car dealership, whose banner of yellow glitter caught the sunlight like fool’s gold. REVIVAL TIME read a sign on one of the many churches that dotted the street. Judy wondered what the church was like inside. “You know, Mare, we should get up here more often.”