Extreme Justice (20 page)

“Yes, but are any of the men on her side of the family?”

He hesitated. “Well …”

“See?” She gave him a friendly jab. “Don’t worry about it. It’s perfectly natural. Who cares?”

“Who cares? I care!”

“Well, I don’t. Let’s eat.”

Somewhat reluctantly, Ben followed her lead. A few moments later, they were both digging in.

“I got everything I could down at City Hall,” Christina explained between bites. “Of course, since they haven’t charged Earl, they don’t think they have any obligation to share evidence, exculpatory or not.”

“That’s how it usually works,” Ben replied. He grabbed a lumpia dog and dipped it in the yellow sauce. “They want to get all their ducks in a row before they give us anything.”

“I did start processing motions and pleadings. When the time comes, all we’ll have to do is fill in the blanks. Still, we’ll be at a disadvantage.” She frowned. “It doesn’t seem like this is how the law should work. If they’ve already made the decision to charge Earl, it’s just semantics. He is in fact a defendant. The
Brady
rule should require them to produce any exculpatory evidence.”

“You’ll get no argument from me. But the Supreme Court said otherwise.
Boren v. Oklahoma
.”

“No, that was about gender discrimination in drinking laws. You’re thinking about
Conners v. Wisconsin
.”

Ben set down his fork. “Since when did my legal assistant have a better command of case law than I do?”

She hesitated a moment. “I’ve been hanging around you lawyers for over ten years. I was bound to pick up something.”

“Yes, but—”

She changed the subject. “So you don’t think Gordo was hiding anything?”

“I didn’t see any evidence. But who knows? All that death worship stuff was so weird. Who knows what might be buzzing around in his brain? Who knows what someone might do, especially after they’ve decided that death is no big deal.” He shook his head. “For that matter, Diane seemed perfectly open to me. But you know what a lousy judge of character I am.”

“I certainly do.” She scooped some more white rice onto her plate. “Do you intend to see Denny?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Good. How’s Mrs. Marmelstein doing?”

“I’m going down there after I eat. I really don’t think she should be left alone.”

“That’s fine for tonight. But what about tomorrow? And the next day?”

“Christina, I can’t watch her day and night for the rest of her life.”

“So what are you going to do? Send her off to some home filled with people she doesn’t know?”

“She needs to have people caring for her. Full-time.”

“She would hate that.”

“True. When I suggested it, she became hostile.”

“I’m sure she’s very scared. She knows what’s happening to her. At least some of the time she knows.” Christina paused a moment. “You know, Ben—she depends on you.”

Ben’s eyes narrowed. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“She doesn’t have any living family. No one she’s ever mentioned, anyway. She’s come to depend on you.”

“What are you saying—that I should become her private nurse?”

“Not that exactly, but—”

“Do you have any idea how difficult it would be caring for an elderly woman with Alzheimer’s?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. But I still think—”

“I have things to do! I’m going on tour with the band this summer.”

Christina didn’t respond, but she gave him a look he didn’t like a bit. “Oh, I almost forgot. I brought up your mail.” She tossed a few envelopes his way. “Looks like you got something from New York.”

Ben rapidly thumbed through the letters till he found the one in question. He ripped it open with his thumb and began to read. His eyes darted quickly down the page.

“Well?” Christina asked.

Ben sighed. “Same old same old.” He affected an impersonal baritone. “We’re sorry, but we regret to inform you that your manuscript does not meet any of our current needs. Thank you for considering us.” He wadded it up and lobbed it into the trash can in the corner. “I wish I’d never written the damn thing.”

“You have to be patient. Getting published is tough. Some of the greatest writers who ever lived spent years trying to get published.”

“Well, I’m not one of the greatest writers who ever lived. Maybe I should just hang it up.”

“C’mon, Ben. You’re not a quitter. Just ride this out.”

“Right, right.”

“If you don’t sell this book, maybe you’ll sell the next one.”

“I don’t have time to write another book.”

“Grueling life of a part-time pianist weighing you down?”

He gave her a sharp look. “No, but there’s the minor matter of this murder case. And I’d like to check on Joey. Even if he is with his mother, I feel responsible. I’m his guardian, after all. Or was, anyway.”

Christina nodded. “I’m not surprised. You’ve always taken that
parens patriae
stuff very seriously.”

Ben set down his fork. “Christina, when did you trade in your French?”

“Huh?”

“Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve driven me nuts with the pidgin French you picked up in that extension course at TCC. But lately, you’ve gone Latin.”

She laughed unconvincingly “How odd.”

“Yes, very. And you’re dropping case names like they were common knowledge and arguing legal issues like—” He stopped. His eyes widened. “You’re going to law school, aren’t you?”

Christina remained perfectly still, a frozen smile on her face. “Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s true.” He tossed down his napkin. “That’s what all this mystery has been about. Those classes you’ve been going to—it’s not some past lives nonsense. You’ve been taking classes at TU law school!”

Christina’s eyes lowered. “I suppose there’s no point in denying it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, I wasn’t sure how you’d take it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes lawyers aren’t all that pleased when their legal assistants try to … join them.”

“Ben Kincaid—the insecure sexist pig?”

“I’m not saying that. I just thought it might be … awkward.”

“Awkward? Awkward?”

“Yeah. Like now.” She pushed away her plate. “Me and my big mouth.”

“I don’t know why you’re acting this way.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Why should I care that you’re going to law school?”

“See! I knew it would be like this!”

“Christina, I could care less if you go to law school. I just can’t believe you thought you couldn’t confide in me.”

“I thought it might make you uncomfortable. You know. Someone who used to work for you, on her way to becoming …”

“An equal?”

She shrugged. “Whatever.”

“What is this, nineteenth-century England? You can damn well go to law school if you want, damn it! I can’t stop you.”

She put her hands to her face. “I knew you’d be upset!”

“I can’t believe you thought I’d be upset!”

“But you
are
upset!”

“Yes, but not because you’re going to law school!” He stopped himself, realizing he was almost shouting. “I just didn’t think we kept secrets from each other. I tell you everything.”

“You do not.”

“Do too.”

“Really! Did you tell me you were writing a book?”

“Well … no. But I was going to.”

“Did you tell me about your father? Why he wrote you out of his will? Why he disowned you and said you weren’t his son anymore?”

“Well, that’s different.”

“Did you tell me your favorite TV show is
Xena: Warrior Princess
?”

“What?” He sat bolt upright. “It is not.”

“I found a tape full of
Xena
in the VCR in your living room.”

“That … isn’t mine.”

“Yeah, well, I put it in the drawer with all the other
Xena
tapes that aren’t yours.”

“Christina!”

“The point is, no one tells anyone everything.”

“No, the point is, you should have trusted me. The point is, we shouldn’t keep secrets from each other. We shouldn’t—”

He stopped suddenly. What was going on here? They were starting to sound like—

He blinked. Now
that
was a disturbing thought.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm down. “Look, Christina,
I don’t
mind. I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I didn’t even know you were interested in law school.”

“I didn’t know myself until about six months ago. After you decided you’d just up and stop practicing. Where did that leave me—a legal assistant with no lawyer? Then suddenly it dawned on me. Why should I be at the mercy of some lawyer all my life? Why should I be out of work every time he decides he wants to move or join a corporation or sing depressing folk songs in nightclubs? Why shouldn’t I be a lawyer myself? I’m smart.”

“You
are
smart.”

“So I took the LSAT, just to see how it went. Turned out I did pretty well. So I applied at TU. And lo and behold—I got in. Cleaned out my savings, but I got in.”

“So you’re in your first year. Miserable, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. This Socratic method bit really sucks.”

“It’s a rotten way to educate students,” Ben said, “but a great head trip for professors.”

“Yeah. That’s it exactly.” She slowly lifted her eyes. “So you’re not mad at me?

“Christina, you’re being ridiculous. Of course I’m not mad at you. I’m proud of you.” He winked. “And as soon as you get out of school, .I’ll give you a job.”

“Who are you kidding? When I get out, I’ll give
you
a job. And the paychecks will be a lot more regular, believe me.”

“Christina, I’m wounded to the quick.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what we lawyers do, isn’t it?”

T
HE NEXT MORNING
, Christina drove the van while Ben navigated. They took the Cherokee Turnpike south out of Tulsa, turned near the Port of Catoosa, and headed toward Claremore.

“This place is somewhere along the side of the road,” Ben said as he studiously pored over a map. “Before you get to Claremore, according to Gordo.”

“I’ll keep my eyes peeled,” Christina answered. “What’s the name again?”

“The Christian Purity Bible Camp.”

“Right. How could I forget?” She pulled into the left-hand lane. “And Denny is staying here?”

“So I’ve been told. Some people live there all year round.”

“They must be very pure.”

“Apparently.”

A few miles later, Ben pointed out the turnoff on the side of the road. Christina swerved over and drove down a dirt driveway barred by an iron gate. There was a speaker box beside the gate, with a big blue button beneath.

“Looks like they don’t let just anyone in here,” Christina commented.

“They wouldn’t stay pure long if they did.”

“Is anyone expecting us?”

“No. I was hoping we could just slip in and chat with Denny for a bit, then slip out again. Before we got contaminated with too much purity.”

“Right.” Christina reached out and pushed the blue button. A few moments later, the speaker box crackled alive.

“I hope you’re enjoying this beautiful day God has given us,” said the tinny female voice emerging from the box. “Welcome to the Christian Purity Bible Camp. How can we serve you?”

“We’re here to talk to one of your … er … campers.”

The box crackled. “I’m afraid we have to maintain the privacy of our members. Admittance is only granted to members and prospective members. Are you interested in joining us?”

Christina hesitated barely a second. “Yes, that’s right. We are.”

“Very well,” the voice in the box said. “I’ll open the gate. Please drive straight to the administration cabin at the end of the main road. I’ll meet you there. And of course, please refrain from taking any photographs along the way.”

Ben’s forehead creased. Did photography have a depurifying effect?

Christina pulled the van to the end of the road and parked. Ben opened the passenger-side door, hopped out, and found himself face-to-face with the woman behind the voice.

He froze, lips parted. “Buh—wha—I—”

She was an older woman, hair brown but flecked with gray. There were a few pronounced wrinkles in her face, but she was still healthy and attractive. She seemed friendly and relaxed, and yet her face bore a suggestion of sophistication. In fact, in many ways, she reminded Ben of his mother. Except for one minor detail.

She wasn’t wearing any clothing.

“Welcome to the Christian Purity Bible Camp,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Rona Harris.”

Wordlessly, Ben took her hand and shook it.

“Thank you for joining us. May I show you around?”

Ben tried to keep his eyes glued to her face, which was a considerable challenge under the circumstances.

“I’d be happy to give you the grand tour. Or if you’d like, you can talk to some of our happy campers.” She paused, waiting for a response that didn’t come. “Would that be acceptable?”

“Buh—” Ben replied.

“Is there something wrong?” Rona raised a hand to her face. “Oh my. You didn’t know, did you?”

“Buh—wuh—” Ben sputtered.

Christina walked around from her side of the van, her eyes widening slightly as she took in the view. “We knew you were pure,” Christina said. “We just didn’t realize how pure.”

Rona laughed. “I thought everyone knew by now. Everyone who knew enough about us to visit, anyway. How did you find out about us?”

Christina stepped in front of Ben. “Denny Bachalo is a friend of ours. He recommended it.”

“Good for him.” She turned back to Ben. “Perhaps Denny should be your tour guide.”

“That’s a great idea,” Christina supplied. “Do you know where he is?”

“I don’t, but Kerrie will. She’s in charge of daily activities. Sort of like our cruise director.” She laughed. “Why don’t we head toward her cabin? We can talk along the way.” She took Ben’s arm and wrapped it around hers, drawing him close. “Shall we?”

“Buh-wuh—
wuh
—” Ben said compliantly.

Ben walked side by side with Rona, with Christina just a few steps behind. Somewhere along the way, he managed to find his voice.

“Would you feel more comfortable if I put something on?” Rona asked.