Mike guffawed. “Right. Just like on TV. He’ll break down, whimper, and confess.”
“Then scare him. Teach him the fear of God and the criminal justice system.”
Mike fidgeted with his pipe. “I don’t even know what it is we think Sanguine has done. I don’t understand how it all fits together—the fraudulent records, the apartment at Malador, Adams, the little girl. What do we charge him with? Corporate fraud? We can’t tie him to either murder, and it’s not against the law to rent an apartment.”
“Sanguine has to be the killer, Mike.”
“Think you’ve got it figured out, huh, Sherlock?”
“Yeah, I think I do.”
“Know who trashed your apartment? And why?”
“I think Sanguine was looking for the stolen records. Maybe Brancusci wasn’t stupid enough to carry them with him when he got killed. Or maybe Sanguine wanted to see if I had copies.”
Mike looked at Ben and held his gaze firmly for a moment. Then, with an air more of resignation than confidence, he opened the door of his car and slid behind the wheel.
“You’d better be right,” Mike said simply.
“Let’s take separate cars,” Ben said.
Mike nodded. “I hope one thing has occurred to you, though,” he added. “Whoever the killer is, he’s apparently killed to lay his hands on misappropriated financial records. That killer may also believe you have the same records.”
“So?”
“You know what Shakespeare said, kemo sabe. ‘The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers.’ ”
Ben’s body suddenly turned cold, “Christina knows about the records, too,” he said.
Before Mike had a chance to answer, Ben ran down the street to his Honda, gunned the engine, and pulled out into the street.
38
BEN BOLTED OUT OF the thirty-eighth floor elevator, jogged around the corner, and ran down the corridor to Maggie’s station. Maggie was reclining in her secretarial chair and thumbing through a fashion magazine.
“Have you seen Christina yet this morning?” Ben asked breathlessly.
Maggie raised her head slowly and peered at him, squinting her eyes. “I haven’t seen her.”
“Call her at home.”
Maggie shook her head. “Mr. Derek told me to keep the line open—”
Reaching over her typewriter, Ben picked up the phone receiver and shoved it under Maggie’s chin. “Call her!” he shouted.
Maggie’s eyes narrowed. Then, after glancing at the list taped to her desk, she dialed the number. “No answer,” she said after a moment.
Ben pounded his fist against her desk. “Damn, damn, damn!”
Maggie exhaled slowly. “She’s in the library,” she said at last.
“What?”
“She left a note on my desk this morning. She’s in the library.”
“Why didn’t you say so?”
Maggie looked down at her magazine. “You didn’t ask if I knew where she was. You asked if I had seen her.”
After two weeks of wondering, Ben suddenly understood how a man could be driven to kill. Suppressing his temper, he ran down the corridor and into the library.
Christina was standing in the stacks beside the Supreme Court reporters, wearing her green Robin Hood outfit.
“Christina!” Ben shouted. Several associates sitting at the reference table looked up. “Thank God you’re here.”
“Ben! How did it go?”
“Fine.” He walked over to her. “Just fine.”
“I called your place late last night but you weren’t there.”
“Yeah, I was—”
“Is something wrong? You look really strung out.”
“I was just worried. “
Christina’s brow knitted. “What’s happened, Ben?”
“Brancusci is dead.”
Christina’s hands slowly dropped to her side. “My God,” she whispered. “Did you get the—”
“No. I think that’s why he was killed.”
Christina looked at him but didn’t say anything.
“Look, Christina, I need your help.”
She nodded. “Serving you always gives me that special joie de vivre.”
“Then find out where Brancusci lived. Go there and wait for the police to arrive. Don’t go in until they get there. It’s not safe. I want you to help them search. Mike will okay it. You know more about this case than they do; you’ll know what to look for. See if you can find those records or anything that might tell us who Brancusci met last night.”
“Got it. Then what?”
“Then go over to apartment 724 at the Malador and wait for me. You know the way. And”—he paused, unable to think of a diplomatic way to put it—“bring some women’s clothing. I don’t know the exact size. She’s a little shorter than you, and about the same weight. Just take some stuff that doesn’t have to fit too well. Everything—from the undies out.”
“Got it.”
And thanks for not asking, Ben thought. “I want you to call Maggie every half hour, on the half hour. Instruct her that if you don’t call on the half hour, she’s to call the police immediately. Understand? Immediately.”
Christina’s lips turned up slightly. “You were worried about me, weren’t you?”
“I just … If the killer knew about me, he could know about you. Be careful, okay?”
“You got it,” she said, smiling.
Ben turned and dashed back into the corridor.
As he passed Maggie, she announced, “Mr. Derek wants to speak to you.”
“It’ll have to wait.”
Maggie was insistent. “He wanted to see you as soon as you came in.”
“Tell him to stick it in his bad ear,” Ben said. “I have something else I have to do.”
39
THE FOUR MEN SAT in Sanguine’s office and stared at one another; Ben and Mike were in the chairs facing Sanguine’s desk, while Tidwell stood faithfully at his master’s side. The atmosphere was thick and heavy. No lawyer jokes today.
“Perhaps you misunderstood one of your professors in law school, Mr. Kincaid,” Sanguine said. “You see, in-house counsel is supposed to be an advocate for the corporation and its employees, not against them.”
“I never accepted that job,” Ben replied bitterly.
“God knows everyone at Raven thinks you accepted it,” Sanguine countered. “You still work for the Raven firm, don’t you? You go where the firm tells you to go and do what the firm tells you to do, right?”
“I never accepted that job.”
“Pity,” Sanguine said, glancing at Tidwell. “You may need a job soon.” He put his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. “I’m going to have to have a chat with Dick Derek. Promises were made; gifts were exchanged. God knows I’ve done enough for Derek in his time.”
He crossed and uncrossed his legs, with an exaggerated air of ease. “Well then, gentlemen, let’s see the evidence. I’m not going to try to obstruct justice. Show me the proof. Show me this corruption festering in the bowels of my company.”
Ben clenched his teeth. The man knew damn well they didn’t have the financial records. At best, they had a coded summary that could be interpreted by Sanguine flunkies to say anything. Sanguine was just playing games with them.
“We’re not prepared to preview our case at this time for your amusement,” Mike replied. “But I can assure you that I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think the evidence against your company and against you personally was substantial.”
“In other words, no evidence,” Sanguine said, making a check mark with a pencil on his desk blotter. “Got any witnesses?”
Ben could not restrain himself. “There’s no one left who can testify against you, you bloodsucker. You’ve taken care of that. But you won’t stay lucky forever. We’ve found Catherine.”