“Huh?” she asked. “No, it’s nothing.”
“Don’t give me that,” Ben said. “I know that look. What are you worried about?”
“Well, I can’t help but think-shouldn’t we go directly to the authorities with this? I mean, we’re getting way out of our league. We might be better off asking for help.”
“No way,” Ben said. “If I do that, it means I might as well kiss my job good-bye. Besides, even if I went to the police, Rick would see us coming a mile away.”
“What makes you think that?” Lisa asked.
“Are you kidding?” Ben asked. “For the past month he’s watched our every move. Besides, it’s not like we’re doing anything so sophisticated. We’re just trying to get his voice on tape. It’s not like we’re trying to invade his hidden sanctuary located on a private island.”
Lisa turned to Ober. “Don’t worry. Rick doesn’t really have a private island. It’s just a figure of speech.”
“No duh,” Ober shot back.
“I’m serious, though,” Ben said. “If things get hairy, we can call in help. But until then, I’d like to try this by ourselves.”
Chapter 6
THE FOLLOWING DAY, BEN AND LISA WORKED nonstop on four different decisions. After three months together, the two clerks had developed an efficient method for writing opinions. The better of the two at crafting original arguments, Ben always composed the first draft of the decision. With an aggressive writing style and uncompromising persistence, his opinions always barreled forward from introduction to conclusion. Lisa was the impeccable analyst. Ben said she had X-ray vision since she was able to see the holes in the most well-reasoned arguments. So after Ben presented his completed first draft, Lisa’s editing skills went to work. A stickler for detail and the superior logician, she usually wrote twenty-page responses to Ben’s forty-page decisions. When they’d finished their rewrite, the opinion went to Hollis.
At six o’clock, Ben shut off his computer and grabbed his jacket from the closet.
“Where are you going?” Lisa asked, looking up from the desk.
“I have a dinner date I can’t break. Eric’s aunt and uncle have been inviting us over since I got back from Europe.”
“But I still haven’t seen your first draft of the Russell decision.”
“It’s almost done. You’ll have a finished draft by tomorrow at lunch.”
“I better.”
“You will. I promise.” As Ben walked to the door, his phone rang. Assuming it was Eric calling with another excuse about why he’d be late, Ben ran back to his desk and picked up the receiver. “This is Ben,” he said.
“Hey, Ben,” Rick said. “How’s everything going?”
“What the hell do you want?” Ben asked, recognizing the voice.
“Nothing,” Rick said. “I just wanted to know what you’re up to. I understand you have a big dinner date tonight.”
“Are we still on for Saturday? Because-”
Rick hung up.
Ben slammed down the receiver.
“What’s wrong? Who was that?”
“It was Rick,” Ben said, rushing to the door.
“What’d he-” Before Lisa finished her question, Ben was gone.
Ben ran down the Court’s forty-four steps and impatiently waited for his ride to arrive. At five after six, Eric and Ober pulled up in Eric’s car. Ben was silent as he got into the pale gray Honda.
“I thought of the best name for a Mexican restaurant today,” Ober excitedly announced, turning around in his seat. “I’m going to call it Tequila Mockingbird.”
Ben didn’t say a word.
“Sorry I’m late,” Eric said. “I was-”
“Where’s Nathan?” Ben interrupted.
“We’re picking him up at home. I figured you three would want to change before dinner. Aunt Katie doesn’t require a shirt and tie.” Looking in the rearview mirror, Eric noticed the scowl on Ben’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Ben said. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Are you-”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Ben repeated.
Glancing at Ober, Eric shrugged his shoulders and headed home.
“You’re late,” Nathan proclaimed the moment the door opened. Walking inside, Ben headed straight to the kitchen.
“What’s wrong with him?” Nathan asked.
“He wouldn’t say,” Eric said. “I think something happened at work.” Sitting on the love seat, Eric asked, “Were you waiting long?”
“I want you to know it still amazes me that you are consistently five minutes late to everything,” Nathan said, looking at his watch. “I mean, I can set my watch to your lateness.”
Unaccustomed to a close shave, Eric rubbed his face. “I’m not late,” he said. “You’re messed up because you set your watch ten minutes ahead.”
“Don’t even start with that,” Nathan said. “On my watch you’re fifteen minutes late, but you’re still five minutes late in real time.”
“I’ll never understand that,” Ober said. “If you know your watch is always ten minutes ahead, then what good does it do you?”
“Au contraire, my simpleminded friend. I don’t pay attention to the-”
“Who opened my mail?” Ben interrupted. He stood in the doorway, holding up the pile of envelopes.
“It was like that in the mailbox,” Nathan said.
“Was anyone else’s mail opened?” Ben asked.
“Just yours,” Nathan said. “You think it was Rick?”
Ben loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar. “I don’t know what else to think. He called me today right when I was leaving work. And he knew about our dinner tonight.”
“Were any of the letters important?”
“None of them. They’re all either bills or junk mail.”
“I don’t mean to be inconsiderate, but if we’re late for dinner, Aunt Katie will never let us hear the end of it,” Eric said.
“I’m not going to dinner,” Ben said.
“Why?” Eric asked. “Just because someone opened your mail?”
“No, because I’m terrified Rick was checking up on me.” Ben put his mail on the kitchen counter and poured himself a glass of water. “Maybe he was planning on breaking in here when we were gone.”
“If he wanted to break in, he would’ve done it when he opened your mail,” Eric said. “Don’t let him wreck your life like this. He’s just trying to make you crazy.”
“Then I’ll have to be crazy,” Ben said. “Go without me and tell Katie I’m sorry. I wouldn’t be any fun tonight, anyway.”
“Are you sure?” Eric asked.
“Go,” Ben said. “I’ll be fine here.”
Realizing that Ben wasn’t about to change his mind, the three friends walked to the door. “We’ll see you later.”
The moment the door closed, Ben picked up his mail again. Shuffling through the envelopes, he found the only one without a return address. He pulled the letter from the envelope and reread the five words written in thick black Magic Marker: TRUST YOUR FRIENDS? SINCERELY, RICK. As he stared at the short message, Ben wondered whether the letter was a taunting warning or a simple question. Feeling both guilty and regretful for not telling his roommates about the letter, Ben crumpled it in a tight fist. How the hell did I let him do this to me? he wondered. Now he’s got me suspecting my closest friends.
Ben threw the rest of the mail back on the counter, stepped into the dining room, and leaned on the large glass table. Don’t even think it’s one of them. There’s no way it’s one of them, he reassured himself. If I don’t trust them, who can I trust? Staring at his reflection in the smudged glass, he replayed all the important events in his mind. He thought about every piece of information Rick had. He recalled every other person who was also privy to the information. He then came up with a logical way for Rick to find out about each piece. If the house is bugged, he thought, he could’ve heard us talking about Aunt Katie’s dinner. And I told Nathan about the flowers. He could’ve overheard that as well. With a well-hidden microphone, Rick could’ve overheard everything. Staring down at the glass table, Ben nodded to himself. That’s the most logical explanation. That’s how he-