Dead Ringer

“Be

Be

Chief Judge Kolbert laughed, waving a manicured hand at the head of the table. “It’s Ken’s birthday. He’s the big six-oh today.”

“Sixty, can it be?” Be

“Ms. Rosato, one of my favorite Democrats!” Judge Sherman exclaimed, and Be

“That’s right. Now don’t die on me, Judge. It’s only you, me, and the chief on the home team.”

“You got that right!” Judge Sherman laughed, and so did the others, good-naturedly. Everybody knew that the string of Republican presidents, starting with Bush senior, had changed the face of the federal judiciary, making it older, whiter, and more conservative. But the appointments were generally smart and fair, and evidently had a decent sense of humor. Even if they didn’t realize that sisterhood is powerful.

“Well, I don’t want to disturb you,” Be

Be

She turned west toward her neighborhood and picked up the pace. If she had to walk home, she would. It would take only a half an hour. But her stomach felt uncomfortably full, and she couldn’t shake the spooky feeling she’d had before. She didn’t hear a noise, but she glanced back anyway. A drizzle came on, spitting at first and then harder, with cold raindrops pelting the parked cars and city streets.

Be

Trying not to look behind her.

6

Monday morning, Be

Be

Be

“You off the curse diet?”

“Fuck yes! It’s my credit cards, right? Whoever has my wallet must have used them before we canceled the cards.”

“Right, but don’t sweat it. You’re not liable for the charges. I called some of the vendors and they verified that your Visa and AmEx cards were used for the purchases. Remember, the credit card companies let me cancel your cards, but only the cardholder can find out about the recent purchases. I told you to call them, in my E-mail. Did you?”

“Didn’t get a chance. Sorry.” Be

“I’ll file a report with the police and call FedEx to come get these boxes. I’ll call about your driver’s license.”

“Thanks.” But Be

“It must be a prank.” Marshall fingered the paintbrush end of her light brown braid. “Somebody thinks this is fu

“Well, let ’ em laugh.” Be

“Fine, thanks. Jim and I took it easy, but the baby didn’t. He’s movin’ and groovin.’ Only two weeks to go.” Marshall rubbed her very pregnant tummy. “It’s great news about the new class action. We’re playin’ in the bigs now, huh?”

“Trying to.” Be

“It’s already on your desk, for your signature.”

“What a woman,” Be

“I got it out of petty cash. There’s three dollars and two cents left.”

“You anticipate my every need. Will you marry me?”

“No.”

“Is it because I walk like a man?”

“What?” Marshall’s pretty forehead wrinkled.

“Forget it. Any messages?”

“Not yet,” she said. It was Marshall’s considerate way of saying Nobody calls here anymore. “Who’s going to file the complaint?”

“I am. I want Carrier and Murphy to keep working on the class-action research, and DiNunzio’s on Brandolini, so I’ll file it. You know my mantra.”

“Eat two, they’re small?” Marshall smiled crookedly. She had the intelligence, loyalty, and sense of humor God reserved for legal secretaries, because they needed it more than anybody else.

“No. ‘If you have more time than money, do it yourself.’ Let me check my E-mail, then I’ll go.” Be

“I would say so.” She snorted. “They were in a tizzy this morning, but they’ll be okay.”