Primary Justice

27

“YOU THINK HE KNEW more than he was telling?” Christina asked.

“I don’t know,” Ben answered. “He told a hell of a lot.”

Christina and Ben sat behind closed doors in Ben’s office. Ben had told her everything he’d learned from Brancusci.

“He should have called me back by now,” Ben muttered. “I wonder what’s taking him so long?”

“Probably can’t find his papers. You know how accountants are. Offices always a mess. Desks cluttered with papers and slide rules and IRS regulations. Don’t worry. Probably spilled coffee on the documents and had to blow-dry them in the bathroom.”

Ben sank back into his chair. “Look, Christina, I know you’re trying to be cheery, and I appreciate it, but really—don’t bother. I’m not in a good mood.”

Christina fidgeted with the papers in her hands. She was wearing a black leather skirt with offsetting burgundy hose.

Her strawberry hair was pulled back and twisted in a strange cross between a French braid and a librarian’s bun.

“I was told the hearing wasn’t all that bad, and that you displayed a certain … panache.” She paused. “I heard it wasn’t your fault.”

“You heard wrong. I should’ve told the judge about Emily’s condition in the first ten seconds of opening statement. But I didn’t. I was afraid that if the judge thought she was handicapped, he would insist that she be placed in an institution.” He rubbed his hand against his forehead. “I made a judgment call. And I was wrong.”

“You did your best.”

“My client didn’t ask me to do my best. She asked me to make it possible for her to adopt a child.”

“Well, anyway. Comme çi, comme ça. What can I do for you now?”

“Find out what that Ca-Em item represents. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe Em is short for Embassy or Emmanuel or Empire State Building. But I don’t think so. Somehow all of this has to tie together.”

“You want me to call every apartment complex and condo rental property in town?”

“Well, start with the apartments and duplexes in the metro area. Do it systematically. I think one of the legal assistants in real estate could come up with a list of Tulsa rental properties.”

“Raven has an ongoing business relationship with the Jeanne Graham realty agency,” Christina said. “We use them to find apartments and houses for summer clerks and new lawyers. I bet they can help.”

“Good.” A tiny light was returning to Ben’s eyes. He’d been hesitant to assign this chore to Christina because it seemed impossibly large. Christina, however, already made it seem not only possible, but easy. “Use them. If anybody hesitates to provide rent information over the phone, give them some song and dance about being with the Tulsa Credit Union. Or maybe the IRS. Nobody wants to irritate the IRS. Tell them you need this information to complete your audit of one of their tenants blah blah blah. Of course, sir, if you’d rather, we can just audit you. …”

“I get the picture, boss.”

“Go to it.”

“Oh, I almost forgot. Maggie gave me this phone message on my way in. Your mother would like you to return her call.”

Ben took the pink memo slip from Christina and crumpled it in his hand.

“Must be important, huh?” Christina said. “She’s called several times since you’ve been here.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Ben said abruptly.

Christina’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing while I’m playing Nancy Drew on the telephone?”

“I’m going to visit Joseph Sanguine again. I think this new case assignment will give me a perfect excuse.”

“Shouldn’t you okay that with Derek first?”

“Can’t. He’s not in the office. Maggie says he had an acute asthma attack. Had to be taken to the hospital.”

“Couldn’t happen to a sweeter guy.”

Ben allowed himself a small smile. “Anything else?”

“I guess you’ve heard about Alvin.”

Ben sighed. “Yes, I’ve heard about Alvin. How did you find out?”

“Ben, you should know by now that you can’t keep secrets from me.”

“Do him a favor, Christina. Don’t spread it any further than it’s already gone.”

“Why? Oh, you just don’t want anyone to find out the firm has another ruthless seducer of women, right?”

Ben looked at her stonily.

“Well,” she said, quickly rising to her feet, “I can’t sit around all afternoon making small talk. I’ve got a couple thousand people to call, give or take a few slumlords—”

“Christina,” he said, stopping her. “Thanks. I mean, for everything. This, and the other night and, well, everything.”

Christina touched him lightly on the shoulder. “My pleasure. Just don’t let me catch you at the Red Parrot with any other chicks.”

“No danger there.”

“One question, though. Who do I bill my time to now? The adoption hearing is over. That billing matter is closed.”

Ben arched his neck and loosened his shirt collar. “It’s not over till I say it’s over,” he said. He was embarrassed at having said something so trite, but he meant every word of it. He couldn’t just give up. There had to be something else he could do. Something he could do right.