CHAPTER TWENTY

The next morning, Benny was standing by the kitchen sink looking out the window to the back patio. “What’s the ramp to the back door for?”

“It’s for Rob Arslan. I ordered it so he’d feel welcome,” Nora answered as she straightened the chairs at the table.

“That’s a nice thing you did. Hey, this here’s a huge house, right?” Benny said as he turned to watch her. “So why we gotta have all the meetings in the kitchen?”

“You’d prefer the wine room?” Nora whispered.

“You gotta stop calling it that—show some respect for my war room,” Benny whispered back, just as Carmen entered the kitchen, leading a medium-height, bald man with a gray Vandyke-style goatee. He wore rimless glasses that were sliding down his nose and a perpetual angry look, as if always squeezing his eyebrows together to move the glasses higher.

“Nora, Benny, I’d like you to meet Porter Raleigh.”

Nora extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, Porter. Thanks for coming on a Saturday.”

“Likewise,” Benny said, shaking hands.

“My pleasure,” Raleigh answered, pulling out a chair. It came out pleh-zha.

“Where you from?” Benny asked as they moved to the table. “I know you’re Mr. Connecticut and all, but I’m pickin’ up some Beantown.”

He smoothed his goatee with one hand. “Born and raised in Boston”—Bahh-stun—“so you’re picking up something real. And let me say it’s an honor to meet you, Benny. I’ve heard great things about you.”

Benny didn’t return the compliment. “So you Sox or Yankees? I hear Connecticut is split.”

“You’re right,” Raleigh said, “and you’re standing on the line. It actually goes through Westport. Any farther up and your accent might be a problem. Any closer to Gotham City and mine might be.”

“I’m sorry,” Benny said in a tone of exaggerated seriousness, “what accent are you referring to?”

Carmen laughed. “Okay, okay, enough with the rivalries nonsense. We’re here to talk about Nora and the Westport cops. Why don’t we start by Nora giving Porter the lay of the land, how she ended up here, Helen’s story, her interaction with the cops.”

Raleigh sat for a long moment when they finished the briefing, pulling a white cloth handkerchief from his pocket before removing his glasses and slowly cleaning the lenses. After hooking the glasses behind each ear, he returned the handkerchief to his pocket, did his ritual one-hand goatee smoothing, and then spoke.

“I would say, based on my forty years of service as a federal prosecutor and now as a private practitioner, that the key here is going to be firing across the bow of the State’s Attorney before they charge. From the sound of things, the cops are going to push because that’s what they do. It’s what they have to do. A wealthy businesswoman was killed in their town and it’s a major problem to have it uncleared. But the State’s Attorneys are different animals. They have a lot more than one town to worry about and they also don’t want to be embarrassed.”

He paused and turned toward Nora. “So, with your permission, assuming you want me to be your lawyer, I’d like to do two things. First, call your deputy at Saugatuck who’s dealing with the investigators and make sure he’s insisting they do it right. And, second, call the prosecutor—I’ve known Aileen Shapiro for years—to make sure she isn’t letting herself get stampeded by the cops into doing something that will blow up in her face. There will be no interview right now, but I’ll tell her you’ll voluntarily provide hair and DNA samples—I agree we don’t want it to get out that you’re stonewalling somehow. Our posture is that you’re innocent and we’ll work to prove that to them.”

Glancing at Carmen, who was nodding, Nora said, “Yes, I’d like you to be on the team. And, yes, it makes sense for you to do those things. I’ll give them the sample whenever they want. And if they show up with the warrant—when they show up—we’ll stay out of their way and give you both a call.” She gestured to Benny. “And meantime, he’ll keep working to understand the universe of possible suspects.”

Benny nodded and turned to Raleigh. “And just so we’re clear. It isn’t just our ‘posture’ that she’s innocent. She’s actually innocent.”

Raleigh’s bald head reddened. “Of course,” he said stiffly. “I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise. Our client is innocent. I’ll be in touch and my firm will be sending a retainer letter.”

As Raleigh rose and followed Carmen to the front door, Benny lifted his right hand and flicked under his chin with the backs of his fingers, before whispering to Nora, “Well, ain’t he a fancy piece a work, Mr. Forty Years, and if he don’t stop grabbing that little beard of his I’m gonna shave it for him.”

She smiled. “Behave. We need that obnoxiousness.”