At the head of the table, Linette was saying, “So far there are fifteen law firms already signed on to represent various members of the class. As usual, everybody will have to pony up for the war chest. My thought is the usual ante will do, thirty grand in cold cash. I need to collect that from each of you by the end of this week.”
More nodding, except for Bennie, who couldn’t have nodded if she’d tried. Her neck had locked in place. Thirty thousand dollars? How the hell would she get that? What would she do? By the end of the week? She was so stunned she could barely focus. Thirty grand!
“At this juncture, we don’t know who the bad guys will hire as their mouthpiece, but my best guess is that it’ll be Yates amp; Gumm, in that big black building right across the street.” Bill winked as he gestured out the window. “I try to run ’em over when I can, but they’re too damn fast.”
Louder laughter from around the table.
“But make no mistake, my friends, Yates amp; Gumm is good. Very good. We may call ’em Stupid amp; Dumb, but they’re not. They’re three hundred strong and they got lawyers from Harvard, Penn, and Yale. I hear there’s one from my alma mater, Villanova, but nobody likes him much. He does all the real work.”
Laughter again.
“Whoever is on the other side of this case makes no difference, because if it ain’t Yates amp; Gumm, it’ll be somebody just as smart and experienced. And whoever it is, we’ll let ’em know that we mean business from the beginning, and that we will not relent until we have achieved justice for all of you.” Linette modulated his tone, bringing his message home. “If we all work together, we can make a just and fair settlement for everyone, no matter how large or small your damages. And that is my-and all of our-one and only goal. Justice, for all!”
Clapping surged in earnest, and Brenstein and Quinones stood up. Dostoyevsky followed, and then Bennie, and soon they all were on their wing tips, flushed and happy that victory was within their grasp, giving themselves and justice a standing ovation.
Inside, Bennie felt like crying. Thirty grand. And still no word from the kids.
Ten minutes later, she was walking back to her office, with St. Amien beside her. The sidewalks were crowded with people heading out for lunch, and Bennie eyed them as they walked by, suddenly hyperaware of her surroundings. Was Alice following her now? Could she have followed her to the restaurant? And why would she do any of it?
A gaggle of secretaries passed, laughing and talking, and then a group of first-year associates from one of the big firms hurried along. The ties of the bright young men flew over their shoulders, and the young girls carried tiny little purses. Bennie remembered when she had been one of them, working so hard at Grun amp; Chase, caring so much about her cases and the hours she billed. She had dreamed of the day when she’d be her own boss, and her life would be completely in her own control. Like now. Eek. She double-checked her cell phone, but no dice.
“Bennie, you seem quiet today.” St. Amien looked over as they walked. Whatever pomade he put on his gray hair made it glint like stainless steel in the sun. The sky above them was clear and cloudless, and he chose to pollute it by lighting up a cigarette from a superwide red-and-white pack. “Thoughts of the meeting?”
Not exactly. “You go first. What did you think of it?”
“I think Mr. Linette is quite the showman, but I also think we will achieve victory, in the end.” The smoke from his French cigarette smelled like burning ozone.
“Right on both counts. Let’s go back to my office to talk, and we can look over your complaint.” They reached the corner, then turned onto Locust Street, passing a brick rowhouse that had been converted to doctors’ offices, then another with green shutters, lawyers’ offices. The sidewalks thronged with people enjoying the ridiculously pleasant weather; none of the passersby was Alice. Bennie and St. Amien were closing in on her building when she noticed a crowd collecting. Two white police cruisers idled at the curb in front of her office.
“What’s that?” Bennie wondered aloud, and St. Amien looked down the street, squinting slightly through his acrid smoke.
“The police?”
Something’s the matter. “Oh, no.” Bennie picked up the pace to a light jog, and St. Amien stepped lively on his long legs, loose change jingling unhappily in his pockets. Two cops with light blue shirts stood around the cruiser. Their navy blue hats sat low on their foreheads, but under them Bennie could see the grave set of their mouths.
“Officer!” Bennie yelled when she was only a few feet away, hailing them. Her cell phone started ringing in her purse, but this was no time to answer. She reached the cops, her heart in her throat. “I’m Bennie Rosato. My office is upstairs. What’s the matter? Did something happen to one of my-”
“You’re Ms. Rosato?” one of the cops asked, rapid-fire. He stepped quickly to her, followed by his partner, a black woman.
“She fits the flash,” the female cop said, and Bennie didn’t understand. She had always thought that “flash” meant a description of a fleeing offender, broadcast over police radio. Two more cops emerged suddenly from the second squad car.
“Yes, I’m Bennie Rosato, what’s the matter? What happened?” she asked as St. Amien caught up with her, his chest heaving, his cigarette gone. The crowd stopped to stare. Her cell phone kept ringing. “Are my people all right?”
“Bennie Rosato, you’re under arrest,” said the cop in front, and before she could protest, he’d grabbed her arm and spun her around.
“What are you talking about?” Bennie asked, stricken. St. Amien looked stunned, his blue eyes wide behind his glasses. The crowd gathered and gaped.
“We know you’re an attorney, so we don’t expect any trouble.” The female cop came up and joined the first cop, blocking Bennie in against the other two. “Take it nice and easy. Just relax for us now.” The female cop grabbed Bennie’s other arm and together the cops forced her against the car.
“You can’t arrest me! I didn’t do anything!”
“Take it easy, Ms. Rosato. Gotta pat you down,” she said, and Bennie braced her hands against the sun-warmed metal of the cruiser, dropping her briefcase and bag. The female cop recited the Miranda warning as she ran a pair of knowing hands over Bennie’s thighs, and hips, and along her legs. Then around her ears and the back of her neck.
“What am I being arrested for?” Bennie demanded. Her face burned with shame, then resentment. “What do you think you’re doing? I’m entitled to know why I’m being arrested!”
“Don’t make a scene, Ms. Rosato,” one of the cops said from behind her. Suddenly powerful hands yanked her arms from the cruiser, jerked them behind her back, and cinched her wrists together, clamping a pair of tight handcuffs over them.
St. Amien stepped forward, shaken. “Officers, you are making a terrible mistake. This is my attorney.”
“You’re interfering with an arrest, sir.” The cop opened the backdoor of the cruiser and placed Bennie neatly inside by pressing down on her forehead. He slammed the door shut, locking Bennie inside the cage car.
“I want to know why you’re arresting me!” she was yelling, even as she saw Carrier running from the office building toward her, cell phone in hand. Instantly Bennie’s cell began ringing in her purse. Carrier had been calling, not to tell her about Alice, but to warn her about the cops.
But it was too late. The cruiser lurched off bearing her away, and the last face Bennie saw was that of her completely appalled client.
9
Only a telltale latex smell signified that the interrogation room at the Ninth Police District had been freshly repainted; otherwise it was a pre-scuffed blue. The room was small, the gray door closed, and fluorescent lighting glared from a ceiling of white tile. A black TV cart with an old Sony portable and VCR occupied one corner, and the only other furniture, three mismatched chairs and a gray Formica desk, had a scavenged look Bennie had seen only in police stations and freshman dorms. She fidgeted in a stainless-steel chair reserved for suspects, unique in that it was bolted to the floor and had a pair of handcuffs hanging from one arm. Judy sat in a swivel chair beside her, acting as defense counsel. As if Bennie Rosato would shut up long enough to let anyone else represent her.