Bogosian thought a minute. What a bitch. Steere would go ballistic if Bobby called him on the cell phone again. And Steere did say he wanted the motion done. Bogosian figured it would be okay if he could watch her. Besides, what could she do? She was just a broad.
* * *
"What have you got for me, ladies?" Marta barked at the associates. She closed the conference room door behind her and pulled out the seat at the head of the table. She was trying to hide her anxiety, but she wasn't fooling Judy, who appraised her with a critical eye. Her blouse was wrinkled, a first for Erect, and her eyes drooped as if she were in pain. Something odd was definitely going on. Judy would have asked Marta if she were okay, but Erect didn't invite that sort of inquiry. And Mary had an agenda.
"Marta, I have something to tell you," Mary said. She stood up nervously, her neck blotchy under her blouse. Mary had decided to show some balls for a change. Be a FEMINAZI. "Something important."
"Make it fast."
"I didn't finish the motion in limine. You can tell Bennie if you want to. You can fire me if you want to. The motion's not done."
"I don't care about the motion," Marta shot back. "Did you figure out what the D.A. has on Steere?"
Mary's eyes widened in surprise, and Judy found herself thinking: schizophrenic, even for Napoleon.
* * *
Marta rose to her feet as the associates told her about Steere's color blindness and the traffic light. Her instinct told her they were onto something. Steere had lied to her again, even when he supposedly confessed. Why hadn't she seen it? Steere had admitted he was a liar, yet Marta had swallowed his shit about killing a homeless man. What, did she need a fucking sign? She'd nail him to the wall.
"The only problem is motive," Mary said. "Maybe you know something that can fill in the blank."
Marta's thoughts raced ahead. First she'd have to shake Bogosian, who was waiting in the conference room across the hall. She could see him through the glass, a slick leather mountain, sitting at an identical conference table. He was reading his dog magazine and glancing over at them from time to time. Marta had told the associates he was her driver, but hadn't introduced him.
"This is the picture from Darnton's autopsy." Mary handed an 8 × 10 photo across the table to Marta. "We both think his real name is Eb Darning."
Marta picked up the photo. A corpse on a slab. A face in a morgue. She flashed on the Magnum that had bored into her ribs and realized something she should have realized before. If Marta uncovered the truth about this murder, it would cost her her life. Steere would send Bogosian after her and he wouldn't stop pounding until she was the corpse on the slab. The face in the autopsy picture. Marta had to put Steere behind bars for the rest of his life or she'd be dead. Her head thundered. Her wounds throbbed. Blood pulsed in her ears. The conference room seemed suddenly distant. The photo slipped from her fingers.
"Marta, are you okay? Marta?" It was Mary. Her expression was anxious, but Marta couldn't hear her clearly. It sounded like she was underwater.
Marta felt suddenly warm. Perspiration appeared under her blouse and on her palms. The conference room whirled around her. Papers and briefs and files circled like a tornado. She'd had spells like this as a kid, after the station wagon. She couldn't give in to it now or it would bring Bogosian down on them all. Marta forced a smile that even to her felt like a horrid grimace.
"Marta?" Judy asked, rising to her feet. Marta looked so pale Judy thought it was a heart attack.
"I'm fine," Marta said quickly. "Fine. Don't worry about it." She wiped back her hair with a shaking hand. The room came back into focus and the associates' voices came up. Whatever the spell was, it was ebbing away. She could see Bogosian out of the corner of her eye, his head cocked. He was standing up beside his chair, watching her. She gave him a dismissive wave and held the back of a chair for support.
"Are you having chest pain?" Judy was asking.
"Take a deep breath," Mary said.
"I'm fine." Marta braced herself against a chair as the merry-go-round of a room slowed to a complete stop. Across the hall, Bogosian eased back into his seat with the magazine. Marta breathed freer and she looked at DiNunzio and Carrier hovering around her. She realized they were concerned about her, which was confusing. She had toyed with the notion of slipping them a message about Bogosian, but now she knew she couldn't do that. It had to end here, at least for them. She'd work them like dogs, but she wouldn't get them killed. "Listen, you two, go home. Go home now."
Judy and Mary exchanged looks. "What are you talking about?" Judy asked.
"Go home. Now. That's an order. This case is over. Steere doesn't matter, forget about Steere. Go home."
"I don't understand," Carrier said. "What about the D.A.?"
"Forget about the D.A. We'll deal with him later."
"But Mary could be right. If we knew more about Darning—"
"Forget Darning. Go home."
Judy plucked Steere's tax returns from the table. "You didn't get to see these. They show a connection with the bank—"
Marta grabbed the packet and tossed it back on the table. "Forget the bank. Forget Steere. Go home, Carrier. Both of you, go home."
Judy stood stock-still. "Marta, are you on some kind of medication?"
"Do you need us to get you a… professional?" Mary asked.
Marta looked from one to the other and burst into laughter. They were like puppies, these two: dogged in their determination and loyal without reason. They reminded Marta of herself when she was young, protecting two drunks who didn't deserve it from bill collectors and school principals. Instead of making her feel closer to them, the insight distanced her further. "I said, go home."
"You can tell us," Judy said softly. "There's a lot of stress, and it's okay if you are. The pressure. The media. It would get to anybody."
"I'm not having a breakdown," Marta said firmly. "Go home. You've done very good work, and I… appreciate it. Thank you."
Thank you? From Erect? With that, Judy realized that Marta wanted them out of the picture for some reason. She was clearly upset about something, maybe even sick. She seemed to be protecting them, but that would be totally out of character. What was going on? Who was that "driver," anyway? The guy looked like The Hulk. Judy glanced at Mary, who she knew was thinking the same thing.
But Mary wasn't. Mary was thinking there'd been a miracle. That there really was a God and he'd spoken to Marta Richter. Taken her aside, thrown one white-robed arm around her padded shoulders, and had a Dutch-uncle talk with her in the sky. Warned her that if she didn't stop torturing associates, she'd end up a wealthy but crispy critter. That she'd be cast down to that level of lawyer hell where she'd have to listen to Alan Dershowitz whine for eternity. But even though the boss had apparently converted to a human being, Mary still wanted to stay with the Steere case. She hadn't come this far to get a killer off scot-free. Not with her history. "Maybe we should go home," Mary said lightly. She picked her jacket off the back of the chair. "I'm exhausted. Aren't you?"
"What?" Judy said, wheeling around to stare at her friend. "Aren't you interested in following up?"
"Nope." Mary slipped into her blazer. "Why would I be?"
Judy finally came up to speed. "Maybe you're right. We can deal with the D.A. when they file, right?"
Marta relaxed inwardly. "Walk her out, Carrier. That's an order." She liked the idea of the associates leaving together and she'd make sure Bogosian wouldn't bother them. She opened the conference room door. "Go!"
"Yes, sir," Judy said, and saluted.
"It's about time you learned to do that," Marta said, smiling. Across the hall, Bogosian looked up from his magazine and returned to it when Marta nodded. "You know, you both have to learn to take orders better."
Judy grinned, gap-toothed. "Don't bet on it." Erect. "Can we borrow the car to get home?"