“It was something I heard just after the corpse tumbled to the ground. I was in the wings at the time, closest to Scat. As soon as the corpse rolled forward, and we both got a clear look at her face, he murmured, ‘The lily’s been clipped.’ It was under his breath, just barely audible. I’m sure I’m the only one who heard it. I didn’t understand what it meant at the time; I thought he was being poetic. But then, after I heard what the woman’s name was … well, I knew better.”
“Hmm. That’s something, anyway. Thanks, Diane.”
“Anytime.”
“Thanks. Maybe I’ll drop by later and let you make a decision for me.”
It couldn’t hurt, he thought, as he ambled across the stage toward the back door. After all, he had several pending at the moment. And he didn’t seem to be making any progress on his own.
Chapter 27
CHRISTINA SHOWED UP at Ben’s apartment around eight, not long after he arrived himself.
“I got everything you asked for,” she said, reaching into a paper sack. “Two platters of cashew chicken double delight, egg rolls, lumpia dogs, dessert, coffee”—she paused—“and this.” She withdrew a small handheld mirror. “So what’s shaking, Ben? Don’t you already have a mirror in your bathroom?”
“Um, yeah,” he hedged. “A wall mirror. But I wanted … another one.”
“You did? Why?”
“No reason.”
A tentative smile crept across her face. “You’re going to look at the back of your head, aren’t you?”
His chin rose. “I don’t see that it’s any concern of yours.”
“That’s the only time guys need a second mirror.” She spread the food across the kitchen table. “May I ask what’s brought on this sudden concern about the back of your head?”
He thought carefully before answering. “When those cops surrounded me at your place yesterday, I heard one of them describing me on his car radio. He said I was a white male, five five—and I’m actually five six—”
“In shoes.”
“Slim—and get this—brown hair, ‘slightly balding in the back.’ Can you believe that?”
Christina looked away. “Well…”
He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Give it to me straight, Christina. Is my hair falling out?”
She shrugged. “Just a little.” She touched a place on the back of his head. “Just a teeny-weeny little bald spot.”
“A bald spot? He didn’t say there was a bald spot!”
“Ben, it s tiny. “I can’t believe this! I’m too young!”
“Apparently not.”
“My father lived to be fifty-nine and he never balded at all.”
“Your father’s hairline is irrelevant. It’s your mother’s genes that matter.”
“My mother isn’t bald!”
“Yes, but are any of the men on her side of the family?”
He hesitated. “Well …”
“See?” She gave him a friendly jab. “Don’t worry about it. It’s perfectly natural. Who cares?”
“Who cares? I care!”
“Well, I don’t. Let’s eat.”
Somewhat reluctantly, Ben followed her lead. A few moments later, they were both digging in.
“I got everything I could down at City Hall,” Christina explained between bites. “Of course, since they haven’t charged Earl, they don’t think they have any obligation to share evidence, exculpatory or not.”
“That’s how it usually works,” Ben replied. He grabbed a lumpia dog and dipped it in the yellow sauce. “They want to get all their ducks in a row before they give us anything.”
“I did start processing motions and pleadings. When the time comes, all we’ll have to do is fill in the blanks. Still, we’ll be at a disadvantage.” She frowned. “It doesn’t seem like this is how the law should work. If they’ve already made the decision to charge Earl, it’s just semantics. He is in fact a defendant. The Brady rule should require them to produce any exculpatory evidence.”
“You’ll get no argument from me. But the Supreme Court said otherwise. Boren v. Oklahoma.”
“No, that was about gender discrimination in drinking laws. You’re thinking about Conners v. Wisconsin.”
Ben set down his fork. “Since when did my legal assistant have a better command of case law than I do?”
She hesitated a moment. “I’ve been hanging around you lawyers for over ten years. I was bound to pick up something.”
“Yes, but—”
She changed the subject. “So you don’t think Gordo was hiding anything?”
“I didn’t see any evidence. But who knows? All that death worship stuff was so weird. Who knows what might be buzzing around in his brain? Who knows what someone might do, especially after they’ve decided that death is no big deal.” He shook his head. “For that matter, Diane seemed perfectly open to me. But you know what a lousy judge of character I am.”
“I certainly do.” She scooped some more white rice onto her plate. “Do you intend to see Denny?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Good. How’s Mrs. Marmelstein doing?”
“I’m going down there after I eat. I really don’t think she should be left alone.”
“That’s fine for tonight. But what about tomorrow? And the next day?”
“Christina, I can’t watch her day and night for the rest of her life.”
“So what are you going to do? Send her off to some home filled with people she doesn’t know?”
“She needs to have people caring for her. Full-time.”
“She would hate that.”
“True. When I suggested it, she became hostile.”
“I’m sure she’s very scared. She knows what’s happening to her. At least some of the time she knows.” Christina paused a moment. “You know, Ben—she depends on you.”
Ben’s eyes narrowed. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
“She doesn’t have any living family. No one she’s ever mentioned, anyway. She’s come to depend on you.”
“What are you saying—that I should become her private nurse?”
“Not that exactly, but—”
“Do you have any idea how difficult it would be caring for an elderly woman with Alzheimer’s?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. But I still think—”
“I have things to do! I’m going on tour with the band this summer.”
Christina didn’t respond, but she gave him a look he didn’t like a bit. “Oh, I almost forgot. I brought up your mail.” She tossed a few envelopes his way. “Looks like you got something from New York.”
Ben rapidly thumbed through the letters till he found the one in question. He ripped it open with his thumb and began to read. His eyes darted quickly down the page.
“Well?” Christina asked.
Ben sighed. “Same old same old.” He affected an impersonal baritone. “We’re sorry, but we regret to inform you that your manuscript does not meet any of our current needs. Thank you for considering us.” He wadded it up and lobbed it into the trash can in the corner. “I wish I’d never written the damn thing.”
“You have to be patient. Getting published is tough. Some of the greatest writers who ever lived spent years trying to get published.”
“Well, I’m not one of the greatest writers who ever lived. Maybe I should just hang it up.”
“C’mon, Ben. You’re not a quitter. Just ride this out.”
“Right, right.”
“If you don’t sell this book, maybe you’ll sell the next one.”
“I don’t have time to write another book.”
“Grueling life of a part-time pianist weighing you down?”
He gave her a sharp look. “No, but there’s the minor matter of this murder case. And I’d like to check on Joey. Even if he is with his mother, I feel responsible. I’m his guardian, after all. Or was, anyway.”