Ben didn’t say anything.
“Ben, I know how you feel. Everyone eventually experiences their first loss in court and everyone hates it. But you have to face up to the facts, Ben—you lost.” He waited a moment and let the words sink in. “And now you have to move on.”
Derek walked toward the door. “You’ve got a second chance here, Kincaid—a new case to prove yourself with. So don’t blow it. And don’t forget what I told you yesterday. I’ll be watching you carefully.”
Just before he left, he stopped and added, “You know, you really weren’t bad in court today. It just didn’t work out.”
After Derek left, Ben turned his chair and looked out the window, down thirty-eight stories to the city below. Somehow, Derek’s condolences only made things worse.
He knew he had let Bertha down. And Emily. That beautiful little girl was going to be dragged away from a home where she was as content as she was capable of being, shuffled through a dozen foster homes, one after another, no one able to cope for long with this strange, brain-damaged girl. Each move would be more and more disorienting, especially for a girl whose only orientation is to the present instant.
Ben covered his face with his hand. He should have won. He should have stayed home last night and prepared more. He should have made the judge understand. He had only himself to blame.
Another knock on the door. A head poked through a slim opening. “May I come in?”
Ben looked up. It was Alvin. Of all people. “What is it?” Ben asked.
Alvin closed the door and perched himself in the closer of the two chairs.
“If you’ve come to give me a pep talk,” Ben said, “or to tell me tomorrow is another day or something, forget it, okay? I don’t want to hear it.”
Alvin’s brow wrinkled. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”
“You didn’t come to discuss the hearing this morning?”
Alvin’s brow wrinkled again. “Did you have a hearing this morning? I didn’t know. No, I have a problem of my own.”
Ben pressed his ringers against his temples. He had to smile. The rest of the world had problems, too. He had almost forgotten. “What is it, Alvin?”
Alvin cleared his throat. “Remember the other night when we went out for drinks with the new recruit? The Yale guy?”
“At the Bare Fax? Yes, I definitely remember. How’s your head?”
“Fine, thank you. While we were there, you may not recall, but—”
“I recall everything about that night, Alvin. Believe me.
“Do you remember the woman who … helped me out?”
“You mean the redhead with the uh …” Ben searched for the right word, then decided to reconstruct the entire sentence.
“She’s a very nice lady,” Alvin said, again clearing his throat. His face was turning crimson. “She was forced into … well, her career choice, I guess you’d say, by circumstances beyond her control. That isn’t what she’s like at all.”
“Let me guess. What she really wants to do is go to college and dedicate her life to Christ.”
Alvin’s eyebrows raised. “That’s exactly right. How did you know?”
Ben cast his eyes toward the heavens. “I could see it in her eyes.”
“Anyway, we talked awhile that night and later she came by my apartment for a visit. We had an excellent time.”
“Alvin, I don’t want to seem impatient or insensitive, but I’m having what some people might call a very, very bad day. What is the point?”
Alvin spoke in a hushed tone. “I’m going to marry her, Ben.”
Ben’s chin nearly hit the desk.
“I’ve asked her, and she’s accepted. We’ve set a tentative date early next month.”
“Next month?”
“Well, we want to wait until her daughter is out of school.”
“Daughter?”
“Yes. Illegitimate, I’m afraid. But I’m going to change all that.”
Ben fell back into his chair. He didn’t know where to begin. “But”—he waved his hands meaninglessly in the air—“your career! You were so concerned about your career, Alvin.” He looked at Alvin sternly. “Did you sleep with her?”
“I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”
“And you told me you were celibate. Probably a virgin.” He exhaled slowly. “You know, Alvin, you don’t have to marry the first girl you sleep with just because you slept with her.”
“I think you’re way out of line, Kincaid.”
“Have you told Greg about this yet?”
Alvin looked uncomfortable. “I haven’t told anyone else yet. I came to you first, though now, I can’t imagine why. I didn’t think Greg would understand.”
“You mean you thought Greg would make fun of you—and you were damn well right.”
Alvin grunted and walked toward the door.
“Look, Alvin, do yourself a favor. Don’t tell anyone else about this for a while. Wait until the newness wears off a bit. Just to be sure.”
“I don’t see why—”
“Do it for me, Alvin. Buddy to buddy. Okay?”
Alvin bristled and threw his shoulders back. “Fine. Mum’s the word.” He opened the door, then paused. “I must say, though, I thought you would be different. Somehow, you seemed … I don’t know, more sensitive than the rest of the guys. I hoped you’d understand about true love, about wanting to help a woman and a little girl.” He pulled the door shut.
Ben stared down at his desk. He thought his head was going to explode. A little girl. A little girl. I hoped you’d understand about wanting to help a woman and a little girl.
Almost in a daze, Ben began dialing the telephone. Seven rapid clicks, some static, and two rings. Someone lifted the receiver on the other end.
“Hello?”
“Look, you sonovabitch, I know damn well you and Adams spoke the day he was killed. I want to know what you discussed. You don’t want to open up to the police—I can understand that. But not talking to me is a whole goddamn different ball game. I’m sure you’re scared for your own skin and you don’t want to end up like him. I’ll tell you something—I don’t give a damn. People are depending on me, so I’m depending on you to level with me. So talk!” His words reverberated in the phone receiver.
There was no reply. Silence. Static.
“I said, I want you to fucking talk to me! Now!”
A long pause. Then, at last: “I don’t know what it is you want to know.”
“What did Adams discover in the financial records? Or what did you discover in the records and tell him about?”
Another pause. “I can’t talk here,” he said at last. “Can we meet somewhere?”
Ben fell back into his chair and closed his eyes. He felt such a sense of release that he nearly teetered onto the floor. “Yes,” he said. “We can meet now.”
26
THE RIVER PARKS ARE probably the most scenic parts of central Tulsa. Attractive greenery, nature walks, exercise parcourse, bike trails, playground equipment, picnic tables, and hot dog stands—it all can be found between the Arkansas River and Riverside Drive. The park performed a variety of important civic functions. It was where harried parents brought their children to get them out of the house, where housewives came to aerobicize their way to personal fulfillment, where homosexuals congregated in search of companionship.