27

Everyone should have a place where they can go to get away, Ben mused, as he sat down with his Trollope novel and a cup of hot tea and stared at the specials board at Novel Idea. It was a great place to have lunch, and since it was, technically, a bookstore, when you were finished, you could look at the new releases. Of course, Ben rarely read anything written after 1901, but still. The best of it was, he came often and regularly enough that people knew and recognized him. There was even a sandwich named after him on the menu. It was like Cheers for Ben-the place where everybody knows your name.

Even on his busiest days, he tried to slice away a half hour to relax, nourish his body with tortilla soup, and nourish his brain with nineteenth-century lit. It was a chance to refresh and recharge.

Usually.

“Ben, we’ve got to talk.”

Somehow, here in his sanctum sanctorum, Christina was sitting at his table. And she’d closed his book. And she’d taken his tea.

“Christina, I’ll be back in the office in-”

“And you’ll shut your door and blow me off. And I have a flight for Chicago leaving in ninety minutes and I can’t mess around with you anymore.”

He grabbed for his book, but she pulled it away. “And what makes you think I’ll listen to you here?”

“Because if you don’t, I’ll create a big scene. And I know how you hate scenes. Especially here, where everybody knows your name.”

Scott, the owner, stopped by. “Can I get you anything else, Ben?”

“Yes. A new table. With one chair.”

He grinned. “You two. What kidders. French onion soup, Christina?”

“Yes, that would be lovely.” Scott returned to the kitchen. “Looks like I’m here to stay, Ben.”

He folded his hands. “You know, Christina, you’ve done some bad things before, but this is truly evil.”

“I know. I feel horrible about it. But we have to talk.”

“If it’s about the Christensen case-”

“You know it’s about the Christensen case. Specifically, it’s about Ellen Christensen.”

Ben’s movements slowed. “What about her?”

Christina leaned across the small round table. “I know, Ben.”

“You know what?”

She looked him right in the eyes. “I know.”

Dee, the manager, passed by their table. “Saw you on TV the other night, Christina. Loved your hair.”

“Thanks.”

“Smart move, Ben. I’d let her do all the press conferences from now on.”

Ben grabbed his tea and pulled it back to his side of the table. “I’ll bear that in mind.”

“I’m serious,” Christina said, once they were alone again. “I know all about it.”

“You couldn’t possibly-”

“I’ve talked to your mother.”

Ben was floored. “What! How dare you-”

“I knew she’d shoot straight with me, and she did.”

“She couldn’t know everything that-”

“She knows more than you realize. She had a private investigator look into it, after you came back from Toronto acting like an escapee from the lunatic ward.”

“She didn’t!”

“She did. I’m sure he didn’t learn everything, but believe me, he learned enough.”

“She had no right.”

Christina reached out instinctively and took his hand. “Ben, I’m so sorry that had to happen to you. I guess I’ve always known there must’ve been something, something in your past, but I never dreamed…”

He pulled his hand away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“And I don’t blame you. I mean, my ex-husband left me, but it was nothing like-”

“I don’t want to talk about it!”

She held up her hands. “I just wanted you to know-that I know.” She drew in her breath. “And I understand. But I still need your help.”

He shook his head. “Christina, please don’t ask me to-”

“Frankly, Ben, I’m not asking you anything. I have two things to tell you.”

“Oh?”

“First, I’ve hired an intern.”

“What?” he said, doing his best to appear shocked. “What did you think you were doing? We can’t afford that!”

“We’ll manage somehow. Don’t worry-Vicki is smart. You’re going to love her.”

“What’s the second message? You’re moving our office to Park Avenue?”

“No. You’re joining the Christensen defense.”

“The hell I am.”

“That’s right. The hell you are.”

“So you think that just because you’ve talked to my mother, I’m going to relent and take over your case?”

“I don’t want you to take over.”

“Excuse me?”

“I want you to help. But it’s my case. You can second-chair.”

“Me? Second-chair?”

“I’ve done the pretrial work and it is my case.”

“Second-chair?”

“I know you have more experience in the courtroom, but frankly, Ben, I’m much smarter.”

“Is that so?”

“I just need help, and I’m bright enough to get it when I need it. So you’re going to join the team.”

“Christina, I will not have anything to do with that woman.”

“You don’t have to. She’s not the client. Her son is.”

“I will not have anything to do with this case. I told you before-”

“And I accepted it, before,” she said, cutting him off, “because I didn’t know what had happened. But now I do. I understand how you must feel. But joining in this defense is probably the last best hope you have to get over this. And if you refuse to help and this defense tanks, you will regret it for the rest of your life. You’ll be guilt-ridden and… well, pretty much just as you are anyway, only more so. Because you’ll know you could’ve helped, but didn’t. Because of something that-”

“I can’t believe that you would ask me to do anything for her!”

Christina looked up at him. “I’m not asking you to do it for her, Ben. I’m asking you to do it for me.”

Ben fell silent.

“We’ve been through a lot together, you and I. And I felt as if we’d gotten to know each other pretty well. All things considered.” She tossed back her curls. “At the same time, I’ve always felt there was some sort of-I don’t know-barrier between us. Something that prevented us from ever… oh…” She threw down her hands in frustration. “Whatever. The point is, I never knew what it was. But I do now. And I will never let it come between us again.”

“Christina…”

“Please, Ben. Please. For me?”

As they looked at each other, decades seemed to pass in the space of seconds.

After a while, Dee reappeared. “Another cup of tea, Ben?”

“No,” he said slowly, speaking to Dee but looking at Christina. “We need to get out of here. We’ve got a flight to catch. And a ton of work to do.”

28

The man sitting on the other side of the desk was wearing that same gray suit. “I don’t understand what the difficulty is. I’ve had nothing but good reports about you.”

Well, that was good to hear. Charlie the Chicken could still deliver.

“Do you have some complaint about the hours?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“I admit, I have kept you busy, but I thought that was what you wanted.”

“It was.”

“Is it the kind of work? The clients?”

“No. All that has been fine.”

“I know that last job was… somewhat unusual.”

That would be one way of putting it. If the words sick, twisted, and demented weren’t available.

And what a job it was. He’d known something was up from the moment he’d opened the door. For one thing, she wasn’t nearly as old or as unattractive as most of his new lady friends had been. And what was that thing she was wearing? Pink and diaphanous, it was like a sarong designed by Victoria’s Secret. She was very direct, forward, not a bit embarrassed. She took him not to the bedroom, but into the main parlor.

Where another woman was waiting.

“Would you mind taking off your clothing?” the first woman said, while the second, a brunette wearing a black teddy, giggled.

“I aim to please,” Charlie answered, and he complied. He’d thought they were ready to start the action, and was already envisioning how he would arrange things so he could delight them both simultaneously, dealing with the complexities of multiple breasts, a plethora of private parts…