Dead Ringer

13

The next morning found Be

A pale ray of sunlight shone translucent through her window, too weak to warm her, glaring off the hard finish of the papers cluttering her desk. She normally loved to work early in the morning, but she was feeling wretched this morning. She had lost a father she’d never known. It left her feeling oddly restless, and had implications for the present. If the Rices didn’t call her, she’d have to find another way to get to Alice. But for the time being she had to concentrate.

Today was the day of fighting back, on all fronts. First, fighting Alice. No way could Alice dress like her today. Be

She’d cha

Be

She hit a button on her computer and summoned onto the screen a fresh white sheet of computer paper. She was supposed to be a maverick; she’d start acting like one. She tapped away on the keyboard. She couldn’t keep playing nice with Linette, attending meetings that he ran, at his office, on his agenda. His was a closed club and they’d never let her in. Good girls didn’t get to be lead counsel. She’d take this battle straight to the top. There was only one place to get justice, and it wasn’t from a lawyer.

She had almost finished when Mary DiNunzio stuck a head inside her door, reminding Be

Be

“Okay. Sorry. Forget it.” DiNunzio’s head retracted. “I’ll come back when you’re not busy.”

“No!” Be

“Okay.” DiNunzio turned and came back slowly in her conservative print dress, with its high neck and thin leather belt. Either the associate dressed kind of retro or everything old was new again, but Be

“Sorry.”

Be

“In my head, I am. But then it disappears when it goes outside.”

“Let’s give you a lesson. You go over there and sit in my seat, at my desk.” Be

“Uh, yes. I mean, bring it!”

“Say no, and say it exactly how I would.”

“No!” DiNunzio shouted, which Be

“This is an important question. I have to speak with you, right now.” Be

“Rude?”

“No, in control. Fueled by testosterone.”

DiNunzio snorted. “I forgot my injection.”

“Pretend. Imagine.”

“I can’t. I went to Catholic school.”

Be

DiNunzio looked dubious.

“Cha

DiNunzio cleared her throat. In a strong voice she asked, “Can I go to Washington for Brandolini?”

“No.”

DiNunzio blinked. “Oh.”

“You just going to take no for an answer?”

“Well, yes. You’re the boss, and I don’t have a choice.”

“Bullshit! You have a good reason to go to D.C., don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve never asked to go on a business trip before, have you?”

“No.”

“In fact, this would be your very first one, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, fight for it. Gimme your best argument. Keep it short. People like short.”

DiNunzio squared her shoulders behind the desk. “I have to go to Washington. It’s my job.”

“Not that short.”

DiNunzio inhaled deeply. “It’s the only way I can find out what happened to Amadeo Brandolini. The records of his internment are there, in the War Department files in College Park, Maryland. I requested them under the Freedom of Information Act, but I have to wait four months unless I want to go there and see them for myself. I know it’s a bad time to be leaving the office, but I can’t wait that long, so I have to go.”

“Well done.” Be

“I’ll pay myself.”

Ouch. “You shouldn’t have to do that.”

“Why not? It’s my client and I can invest in it, same as you.”

Yowza. “I’ll reimburse you. How long will you be gone?”

“Two days.”

“Fine. You have my permission.”

“Who asked you?” DiNunzio shot back, and Be

It was St. Amien. “Benedetta. I’m sorry to be returning your call so late. I had a minor emergency to deal with. My son.”

“Nothing serious I hope.”

“He needs money, naturellement. For clothes, food, CDs, books. This week here, that week there. You have no children, am I correct?”

“None without fur.”