Dark Ambition (25 page)

He laughed. At least that part about her hadn't changed. "Heck, you can buy mine as well."

Ben got to the restaurant before Jennifer, and he was seated in a corner booth sipping a beer when she walked in, swinging a briefcase in her hand. It had been five years since he had last seen her. As he watched her approach, he realized that she was even more strikingly beautiful than he remembered. Her facial features were perfectly sculpted. She had lost none of her grace and elegance.

A waiter rushed over. Jennifer asked him for a club soda. "I'm working tonight," she informed Ben.

"You look good," he said.

He had not intended to make this comment. It just came out. She smiled, knowing it was an instinctive reaction. That pleased her.

As the waiter placed the drink in front of her, she took a sip to cover her momentary confusion. "You wanted to talk about Clyde Gillis?" she said.

To his regret, he saw the gates close. "Yeah. Listen, suppose I could eliminate the death penalty. Would you be willing to plead him to murder one?"

"Sorry, Ben. No way," she said firmly. "Clyde Gillis didn't do it."

He hesitated, thinking of another angle. "I doubt if I could ever get approval, but suppose, just suppose, we were willing to drop down to murder two?"

Jennifer kept her face deadpan, but inside she was tingling with excitement. She knew Ben so well. He was giving a lot away. The self-confident expression was a mask he put on for all meetings with defense counsel, but his words were signaling that he knew his case had serious problems. If it didn't, he would never have made the offer she had just heard. Later, when Gillis came around, they could discuss a possible deal. She was certain that anything Ben offered now would remain on the table.

A good-looking blonde dressed in a short black miniskirt and a scoop-neck blue sweater came into the restaurant and sat down at the bar. Ben followed the sway of her sensual body with his eyes. Subtly, he thought, but not subtly enough.

"You haven't changed at all," Jennifer said, startled at the sudden flash of jealousy she felt.

Ben saw it too, and he seized it as the opening he had been looking for. "You know, you never gave me a chance to explain. Would you like to know what really happened when I went to California?"

"I don't want to talk about it." She couldn't afford to be distracted. Not now. Clyde Gillis's life was on the line. "But I do have a counterproposal."

"What's that?"

She ignored his hopeful face. "We do our best to forget our past, and we behave like two professionals who have difficult jobs. We cut the sarcasm and wise-guy comments. We behave civilly to each other. How's that?"

Maybe he had been too eager to explain about California. "I think that's a great idea, as long as I get to call you Jenny again."

She smiled. "Okay, Ben, if it means that much to you."

That was progress. He could explain about California later. For now, though, he had to return to the business at hand. "Tell me what kind of deal you want."

"A dismissal."

Ben leaned back. "Are you serious?"

"I'm dead serious. I'm convinced you've got the wrong man."

He frowned. She knew he couldn't go that far. "Jenny, that's what defense lawyers always tell me about their clients. Can you give me something more to go on?"

"I think that George Nesbitt killed the secretary of state. You guys can't find Nesbitt. So you grabbed the first likely suspect."

Ben bit his lip. "Since we're now behaving like a couple of professionals, I have to tell you, not for attribution, of course, that I'm worried about everything you just said. The trouble is, I can't explain away the evidence we found in Gillis's truck."

"It could have been a plant. But in any event, you can't rely on that evidence as a trial lawyer. I doubt if you'll even be able to get it in. Fruits of a poisonous tree. You guys violated his rights before the search."

He waggled his hand, palm side down. "You might or might not keep it out. Lucille's not fond of motions like that. However, let's put that aside for now. If you really believe that Gillis didn't kill Winthrop, then who did?"

"From everything I've seen, I think that agents of a foreign government hired Nesbitt to kill him."

Ben recoiled in surprise. "You want to tell me which government?"

She was silent for a moment. "Right now I can't say any more on that subject. But I will tell you one other thing. Winthrop was a slimeball. He went to bed with everything in a skirt."

Ben smiled tightly. "And that'll be your defense? It's okay to kill philanderers?"

"Maybe."

"To me, that sounds like Ann Winthrop's line. That's not going to do you any good. But please, can't you tell me about these agents of a foreign government?"

"I'm glad I've got your interest," she said lightly. "I think I'd better wait for Judge Hogan."

Jennifer felt her old attraction to Ben returning, and she wasn't certain she liked that. It was time to go. "See you in the morning." She finished her drink, placed five dollars on the table, and got up to leave the restaurant.

Ben returned her awkward good-bye and watched Jenny walk away. God, she was much more self-confident than he remembered. As the door closed behind her, he noticed the blonde at the bar was giving him the eye. She was alone. The chair on either side of her was empty. He couldn't even remember the last time he had had sex. Between his job and trying to be a good father to Amy, there never seemed to be time for sexual relationships, not even a one-night stand. Being with Jenny had strongly reminded him of this gaping void.

There was no harm in trying. He stood up and walked toward the bar. Then he suddenly remembered he had promised to come to Fulton's house for dinner. "Theo's a great cook," Fulton had said. The guy's wife was probably slaving away in the kitchen now, to serve her lord and master.

Ben didn't want to disappoint her. Five paces before the bar, he cut a sharp right toward the door.

Gwen swung around on her bar stool and watched him walk away. As she had listened to his approaching footsteps, she knew that the fish had taken the bait. There was no hurry. He wasn't going anywhere. She was now in control. She could reel him in later.

 

 

 

Chapter 16

 

Ed Fulton was waiting for Ben when he returned to his office. "Where were you?" he asked.

Ben had been thinking about Jenny on his walk back from the restaurant, and Fulton's words hit him like a bucket of ice water.

"I didn't realize that I reported to you."

"When it comes to the Gillis case, I'm supposed to be an equal partner."

"You may not believe it, but the Gillis case isn't the only thing I'm working on." Ben caught himself and eased up. "Besides, I thought you and I were supposed to be turning over a new leaf."

Fulton remained as antagonistic as before. "We were, but you should have told me that you had a relationship with Gillis's lawyer. I shouldn't have had to hear it from Sarah Van Buren."

Ben could feel his anger rising. "I have two answers to that. The first is that it was in the past. And the second is that it's none of your fucking business."

Fulton wasn't going to let it go. "But it is my business. If you've still got a thing for her, then we've got a major problem."

"Yeah, we've got a problem, all right," Ben shot back, "because you interrogated Clyde Gillis at his house in a way that violated his constitutional rights. If the judge throws out the evidence we later got from his truck as the fruit of a poisonous tree, then our whole case goes down the drain." Ben made a sucking noise with his mouth. "Just like that."

At this thought Fulton blanched. "Judge Hogan will never do that."

"What makes you so sure? The many cases you've tried before her?"

When Fulton didn't respond, Ben pressed on. "If you're thinking that one of your buddies in the White House can put the fix in with the judge, forget it. Aides to presidents with more clout than Brewster have tried that before, and the iron lady turned them in to the disciplinary panel of the D.C. bar."

Ben thought for an instant of relating what Jenny had told him about agents of a foreign government being involved, but decided to hold it back. She might just be probing and bluffing. No point sending the hotshot into orbit unless it was absolutely necessary.

"Is she any good?" Fulton asked.

"Who?"

"Your old girlfriend."

"Look, asshole—"

"I mean, as a lawyer."

"She's damn good. Watch her. You'll round out your education. Someday when you grow up and get to court yourself, you can use her as a role model." Ben suddenly stopped and smiled disarmingly. "Look, Ed, I don't mean to be nasty. Somehow you just bring it out in me."

The ex-marine's face unclenched a notch. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have busted your chops about Jennifer Moore. Let's head out to my house for dinner."

* * *

Jennifer sat in her seat in the last row of the sold-out Dolly Madison Theatre and watched the curtain going up on the premiere of
Beauty Queen of Leenane.
Yet she wasn't focused on the show. She was mapping out in her mind the motions she wanted to file to strengthen her position in the Gillis case, plus the research that she and Louise, the young associate working with her, had to do. She was going to make sure she looked good in front of Ben in that courtroom tomorrow.

For Jennifer, the play couldn't end soon enough, but she refused to leave early. She had come for Ann, who was standing behind Jennifer with her back to the door, her eyes riveted on the stage. She would stay until her friend was ready to go home. Then she would return to the law firm for several more hours of work.

Mercifully, the play, performed without an intermission, was short. Jennifer jumped to her feet to join the rest of the audience in the standing ovation that was typical in Washington, regardless of how good the performance was.

"They really liked it," Jennifer said to Ann a few minutes later when they stopped at a bar next door for a glass of champagne—their traditional drink when one of Ann's shows opened.

"Linda still isn't playing the part right," Ann said with a snarl.

"She was a lot better than Saturday."

Ann pressed her lips together. "Del knew I was right. He could have shaped her up, but he didn't. He wanted to show me who's the creative boss."

"You really think that?"

"I know it." She ordered a second glass of champagne. "You, too, Jenny?"

"No. I'm okay."

"You going back to work tonight?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Some motions for Clyde Gillis's arraignment tomorrow."

"Of course. I should have remembered." She placed her hand on Jennifer's wrist. "You shouldn't have come tonight."

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world. Besides," she added wryly, "who needs sleep?"

"How are you coming with Clyde's defense?"

Jennifer's thoughts flashed to the meeting with Ben that afternoon. "We're doing fine. Thanks to you and the Chinese connection, I've got something. I'll be able to blow a lot of smoke."

"I gather that you didn't sleep much last night either."

"What do you mean?"

Ann looked worried. "I heard about Marianne Kelso's party."

"Did you hear I misbehaved?"

"Not from Marianne. Jim Slater called me."

Jennifer unconsciously patted her hair. "What'd he want?"

"Oh, he pretended to be calling to see how I was doing after Robert's death. In reality, I think he was digging for intelligence about you."

Jennifer was pleased and flattered. "Really?"

Ann narrowed her eyes. "You sure you want to get involved with him?"

Jennifer could see how genuine Ann's concern for her was. "The truth is, I don't know. I honestly don't know."

"I just don't want you to get hurt."

Jennifer hesitated and then said, "Suppose I told you that I like spending time with him?"

Ann sighed. "I can see why. He has a lot going for him."

"And one very big negative."

"You said it. Not me."

* * *

Ed Fulton lived in a comfortable two-story colonial just off Western Avenue on the D.C. side of Chevy Chase, close to Rock Creek Park. He didn't get this house on his salary, Ben thought. There's got to be some family money. The trees towering over the house had shed a blanket of leaves that covered the yard. A large deer with antlers cut across the road, startling Ben.

Fulton smiled. "We see them all the time."

Ben expected Fulton's wife to be a small, mousy-looking woman who saw herself as an appendage of her hard-driving, ambitious husband. Instead, Theodora was a tall, striking brunette with haunting chestnut eyes and magnificent clear skin with a touch of olive that told of her Mediterranean roots. Wearing a navy skirt and a powder-blue sweater that was flattering on her full-bosomed figure, she had a clean, fresh look, as if she had just stepped out of the shower. Ben smelled the scent of a luxurious perfume when she shook his hand at the door. "I'm always pleased to meet one of Eddie's colleagues," she said, sounding as if she meant it.