“Thirteen months.”
“So she’s been gone for almost six months. And she’s never called once to check on her kid. Face it; she’s history.”
Ben knew any refutation would sound desperate and lame. “Still … it doesn’t hurt to keep looking. When you have the time.”
Jones frowned. “You’re the boss, Boss.” He handed Ben some papers. “Here’s your latest draft of the summary judgment brief in the Skaggs case. It’s due today.”
Ben checked his watch. “Today? The courthouse closes in less than an hour!”
Jones turned back to his computer. “Have a nice day.”
“Swell.” Ben shoved the brief under his arm. “By the way …” He made an awkward coughing noise. “… did the payroll … ?”
Jones shook his head.
“Oh. Well.” He shuffled toward his interior office.
Just as Ben tried to step in, another, much larger figure stepped out.
“Whoa!” the man said as he quickly ducked out of the way. “Sorry, Skipper. We nearly had a head-on collision. We coulda flattened each other.”
Except, Ben thought, since Loving outweighed him by about a hundred and twenty pounds, mostly muscle, Loving would’ve done most of the flattening. “Working on some big case?”
“Not at the moment. Things are kinda slow.” Loving was Ben’s private investigator, although he often worked independently when clients had need of his services. “I was chatting with your client. Nice gal.”
Ben suppressed a smile. “I thought you might like her.”
“By the way …” The hesitance in his voice told Ben exactly what was coming. “I know you’ve been busy and all, but can you tell if the payroll …?”
Ben shook his head. “No.”
“Oh. Well, I understand.”
“I’m sorry, Loving. Work really seems to have dried up, and my clients aren’t paying—”
“Don’t worry about it, Skipper. It ain’t your fault.”
“It ain’t?”
“Nah, it’s the whole international banking conspiracy thing.”
“The—what?”
“The banking conspiracy.”
Ben frowned. “Perhaps I should start reading the papers.”
“All the bigwigs in all the major industrial countries, the Trilateral Commission, the Illuminati, the power elite—they’re all sucking up the world’s cash. Trying to make paper currency worthless.”
“And why would they want to do that?”
“ ’Cause they own all the gold, of course. Cash goes down, gold goes up.”
“That’s incredibly paranoid.”
Loving chuckled. “Yeah, that’s what JFK said, too. And look what they did to him.”
“I beg your pardon. I thought the CIA, the FBI, the Mafia, the Cubans, and the military-industrial complex were behind that one.”
Loving smiled knowingly as Ben entered his office and closed the door. “That’s what they want you to think.”
Ben made his way to the tiny desk in the corner and tossed the Skaggs brief on top.
“Ben Kincaid, my hero.”
Ben glanced up. Fannie was standing awkwardly in the center of the room. She was back in her trademark overalls and was fidgeting nervously with her hands.
“Oh. Hello, Fannie.”
“Ben, you were wonderful in the courtroom today.”
Ben slid into his desk chair. “I really didn’t do anything.”
“I think you did. You salvaged my professional standing. My reputation.”
Ben undid the top button of his shirt and loosened his tie. “Fannie, I don’t want to seem rude, but I need to review this brief pronto.”
“Oh.” She knotted her fingers together. “I was hoping we could … talk.”
“Well…”
“It’s real important.”
“I’m sorry, but—”
“It’s about your … payment.”
Ben suddenly had a sinking feeling. “Well, I can do more than one thing at a time. You talk, I’ll read.”
“Oh. Sure.” There was a long pause. “Ben, I’m so grateful for all you’ve done for me. I mean it. You’ve saved my good name. You’ve redeemed me.”
Actually, Ben thought, the fact that Hemingway planted the tank in her truck didn’t necessarily mean she hadn’t been cheating, but he decided to keep that thought to himself.
“I owe you everything. Problem is… I don’t have anything.”
Ben’s eyes squeezed closed. I knew it. “What happened to all that prize money?”
“Well, to tell you the truth, I’m a bit too fond of that Creek Nation Bingo Parlor.”
I can’t stand it, Ben thought. I just can’t stand it.
“I know I owe you, Ben. I owe you a lot.”
“It was nothing,” Ben mumbled, “nothing at all.”
There was a sharp intake of breath. “Well, never let it be said that Fannie Fenneman doesn’t honor her debts.” There was a pause, followed by a metallic clinking noise. “So I’ve decided to pay my bill in trade.”
Ben’s eyes stopped moving across the brief. Slowly his head raised.
Fannie was standing in the center of the office, stark naked, her overalls in a pile around her feet.
“Uh, Fannie …”
“Now, don’t you worry, Ben. You’ll get your money’s worth.”
“I’m sure … I mean, I never doubted …”
“Well, come on, Ben.” She wrapped her arms around herself. Ben thought perhaps she was embarrassed, but the external evidence indicated she was cold. “I’m ready and waiting.”
Ben eased out of his chair. “Fannie, I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“It is, Ben. I promise.” Her body vibrated in a singularly impressive manner. “You won’t be sorry.”
“I already am.” He took his suit coat off the hook on the door and held it out to her. “Here, put something on before—”
“Ben, no.” She brushed the coat away and grabbed his arm, pulling him to her. Before he could stop himself, Ben collided into her. She wrapped her arms around him. “Don’t fight it, Ben. It’s the only way.”
“Fannie, please!”
Just then, the office door swung open. Christina poked her head inside. “Ben, can I—” She stopped short, her eyes widening like balloons. “Oh, my—I had no idea. I’m so sorry.” She vanished.
“Christina! Wait! It isn’t—” Ben pushed himself out of Fannie’s arms. “Excuse me.” He ran toward the door.
“But, Ben!” Fannie cried.
He whirled around. “And put your clothes back on!” He stepped through the door and found Jones and Loving staring at him. “What are you two looking at?”
Both pairs of eyes immediately darted down to their desks.
Ben stomped across the lobby. “Have you seen Christina?”
“She blew out of here like a rocket. Can you blame her?”
“Jones, it isn’t what you think—”
“Jeez, Boss”—his look was one of pure amazement—“you don’t even have carpet in there.”
“Jones—”
“There is that one chair, I suppose. Or the desk. Man, you must really like it rough.”
“Jones!” He ran to the front window and looked both ways down the street. Christina was nowhere in sight. “Look, Jones, if you see Christina, tell her …” He searched his mind for the right words. “Never mind, I’ll tell her myself. The Skaggs brief looks fine, by the way. Can you file it?”
“I could,” Jones said, “but don’t you have to be going that way, anyway?”
“Me? Why?”
“To get to Forestview. Joey, remember? I mean”—he glanced back at the office door—“if you’re up to it.”
Ben glanced at his watch. “It’s not five yet. I still have—”
Jones interrupted him. “Parent-teacher conference. Four-thirty sharp.”
Ben slammed his fists together. “Blast! I totally forgot.”