“Aren’t you the amateur detective? C’mon, open it up.”
Ben set the package on Jones’s card table, pulled the bow loose, and removed the lid. Inside, he found a cat. A huge, black cat with a white ring around her nose.
“Don’t you love her already?” Christina asked.
“Christina…I’m not really a cat person—”
“Oh, pish tosh. How would you know? You’ve never had a pet in your life.”
“I like living alone.”
“That’s exactly my point,” Christina said. “You’ve been living alone too long. It’s not healthy.”
“Are you afraid I’ll have an arrested social development? Won’t learn to play well with other children?”
“I just want you to get it through that thick skull of yours that you don’t have to do everything all by yourself.”
“In my experience, the less contact I have with other people, the better. For them and me.”
“You’re too old to be a lone wolf. It’s time to start accepting help from others, to develop a family of friends.”
“I’ve already had a family,” Ben muttered. “It didn’t work out.”
“That’s so wrong, Ben.” She lifted the cat out of the box. “And that’s what this little kitty is going to teach you.”
“This little kitty? That monster must weigh twenty pounds!”
“She is a bit on the heavy side. She used to belong to my girlfriend, Sally Zacharias, but she’s getting married and moving into a no-pets condo. She asked if I could find her a good home with a kind, nurturing master.”
“So you’re giving her to me?”
“I’m sure you could learn to be nurturing. In time.” She passed the cat to Ben.
He took the cat awkwardly and held her like a science project. “What’s her name?”
“Sally called her Giselle. I suppose you can call her anything you like.”
“Giselle. That’s a good name. Very classical music.” He stroked her back timidly with one finger. Giselle purred happily.
“See?” Christina said. “You two are getting along famously already. Here’s a couple of cans of cat food, just to get you through the night.”
Ben read the labels. “What’s Feline’s Fancy?”
“Gourmet cat food. It’s all she’ll eat. I hate to break it to you, but it’s the most expensive brand on the market, by far.”
“If she’s coming home with me, she’ll have to develop more mundane tastes.”
“Yeah, well, good luck. I have a food dish and litter box and various other cat essentials at my apartment. I’ll bring them by tomorrow.”
“Why don’t you bring them by tonight? You can see how we’re getting along?”
“Sorry, pal. I have an appointment.”
Ben cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? With whom?”
She hesitated. “Tony Lombardi.”
“Dating a client? That doesn’t seem smart.”
“It’s not a date. Exactly. I’m taking some settlement papers over for him to sign. Besides, the trial is over. Tony and I spent a lot of time together during the last two months. It was only natural for him to ask me out.” She smoothed her silky red hair. “After all, I am devastatingly attractive.”
“I thought Lombardi seemed very tense in court today. Totally stressed out. At the time, I assumed he was worried about the trial. Now I realize it was because he had a date with you.”
“Ha, ha.”
“Christina, this does not sound like a good idea to me.”
Christina fluttered her eyelids. “Benjamin Kincaid. I believe you’re jealous!”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. I’m just concerned for your well-being. As I would be for any friend.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I am!”
She grinned. “If you say so.”
“Anyway, it’s none of my business. Just try to stay out of trouble.”
“Don’t worry about me, Ben. I can take care of myself.” She headed toward the door. “Have fun with the cat. And happy birthday.”
The second Christina left the office, Giselle began to mewl.
“Calm down,” Ben said. “It looks like you’re stuck with me. At least for a little while.” He stared deeply into Giselle’s marble green eyes. “I wonder if you would be any good at hunting chickens?”
4
CHRISTINA SHOVED ANOTHER BOX of documents onto the top shelf. If Reynolds didn’t insist on requesting every document generated during the last ten years by each of his adversaries in every case he had, there might actually be some wall space available for a poster—maybe even a photo or two. Instead, she was stuck with an office that looked more like a government storage depot. No windows, and temporary shelving lining all four walls. Oh, well, what did she expect, being a lowly legal assistant? She was permitted to save Reynolds’s butt on a daily basis, but a decent office would be entirely out of the question.
She hoisted the last box of documents onto the shelf. There. Once she had Lombardi’s signature on the dotted line, the Simmons case would be officially retired.
The after-hours receptionist, Candice, appeared in Christina’s doorway. “Message for you.”
“Thanks.” Christina took the pink message slip. It was from Tony Lombardi: Sorry—Emergency business meeting—A thousand apologies—How about meeting me at my apartment?—I may be late—Help yourself to a drink. His address was written at the bottom.
Hmmph. Well, at least he wasn’t standing her up. Not exactly. The address was about fifteen miles outside Tulsa, but she knew how to get there. It seemed a bit forward—inviting her to his apartment—but it would probably save time. Heck, she was a modern, liberated woman; she could meet him anywhere she wanted. Even if her mother wouldn’t approve.
She crumpled the message and tossed it into the trash can. You’re being silly, she told herself. She grabbed her briefcase and left the office. I’ll just do as he asks. After all, why shouldn’t I? No harm in that.
Ben parked his Accord close to the corner, beneath the street lamp. It meant he would have to walk half the block to reach his rooming house, but it somewhat increased the chances that his tires would still be there in the morning.
He grabbed a large bag of groceries and cat food. After depositing Giselle in his room, he’d made a run to Petty’s for supplies. Gourmet cat food—that was the stupidest Madison Avenue marketing ploy he’d heard of yet. He’d bought an assortment of reasonably priced cat foods. Giselle would just have to learn to like one of them—that was all there was to it.
He headed toward his house, past a row of faded yellow brick buildings, most of them dating back to WWII. Nothing ever seemed to change on the North Side.
The Singleton twins, Joni and Jami, were sitting on the steps outside, talking to two Hispanic boys wearing tight white T-shirts. Imagine—twins named Singleton. Ben had tried to discuss it with them once, but they didn’t seem to grasp the irony.
“Hey, Benjamin,” Joni said, fluffing her curly brown locks. “How go the wars?”
“Oh, about the same.”
“Get any of my friends out of prison today?”
“Not yet,” Ben replied, “but the day isn’t over.”
“True.”
“Hey, Benjamin,” Jami said, as he passed by. “I don’t want to catch you sneaking any women into your place tonight, understand?” All four of them laughed uproariously.
“All right,” Ben said, trying to be a good sport. “I promise not to let you catch me.” He opened the torn screen door and stepped into the building.
There were only four rooms in the house. Mrs. Marmelstein, the landlady, took one ground floor flat, and Mr. Perry, whom Ben had never met, took the other. Ben had one of the upstairs flats; the Singleton twins and the rest of their family had the other.