Final Exam: A Legal Thriller (12 page)

“Who do you think you’re talking to?”
 

“Oh, I know full well who I’m talking to.
 
But I can’t imagine that this is why you brought me down here,” he said, gesturing at the wide expanse of
Cavallaro’s
office, “to discuss your apparent proficiency in helping the police gather evidence against your wife.
 
So I repeat my question, what is it that you want to talk about?”
 
Ben continued to remain perfectly still.
 

This contrasted sharply with
Cavallaro’s
ranting and raving, something not lost on the older man.
 
Uncomfortable with Ben’s placid demeanor,
Cavallaro
smoothed his pants and sat back down.
 
He seemed to consider the possibility that he had not served his wife well.
 
“What I want to know,” he said trying to regain his footing, “is what you’re going to do to keep my wife from being charged with a murder she didn’t commit.”
 

Ben nodded slightly as though weighing his answer carefully.
 
“The unfortunate truth of it,” he responded, “is that I’m not going to do anything to prevent that.
 
There’s nothing I can do to prevent that.
 
The police are under the serious impression that they have enough evidence, or are about to have enough evidence, to bring her in and charge her with Daniel Greenfield’s murder.
 
In fact, I’m a bit surprised they haven’t done so already.
 
But rest assured, the day is coming, and soon, probably.”
 

This news seemed to hit
Cavallaro
hard, and he slumped in his chair.
 
“Then what do we do now?” he rasped.
 

“We wait, and we start preparing for the things we have to do after she is arrested.
 
For example, we’ve already begun researching and preparing a brief to be used at her bail hearing.
 
We’ve also discussed surrendering her to the authorities so as to avoid your son having to witness his mother being led off in handcuffs and the ensuing media circus that would undoubtedly follow.
 
I’ve also visited the crime scene.”
 

“The crime scene?”
 
Cavallaro
interrupted.
 
“What do you know about the crime scene?
 
What do you know about how he was killed?”
 

“He was bludgeoned,” Ben said.
 
He watched
Cavallaro
closely as he said these words.
 
Cavallaro
exhibited no visible response.
 
If the manner of Greenfield’s death surprised him, he didn’t show it.
 
Feeling Ben’s eyes upon him,
Cavallaro
swiveled in his chair and looked out the back window of his office at nothing in particular, his right hand slowly rubbing his chin.
 
“So what am I supposed to do?” he asked without turning back, “Just sit here?”
 

“No, you need to prepare for when the call comes.
 
We should get a heads-up, but you still should prepare for having your son stay with you for a while.”
 
Cavallaro
nodded in apparent agreement, still looking out the window.
 
Ben continued.
 
“The two of you should come up with some sort of story - Mommy has to take a trip, that kind of thing.
 
But you’re not going to shield him from this forever.
 
He’s got to go to school and, as you know, kids hear things and then they talk about them.
 
You don’t want some snotty-nosed kid spilling the beans in the middle of the cafeteria one afternoon.
 

“Hopefully, we’ll be able to get bail.
 
We should be able to, but you never know.
 
Some judge might think that you’re rich and more than able to skip town, perhaps even leave the country.
 
At least that’s what the prosecutors are going to tell the Court.
 
You can bet on it.
 
If things go well, we should have her out of there pretty quickly.
 
If things go well.”
 

Cavallaro
turned back to him.
 
“So you’re convinced they’re going to arrest her,” he said as a statement rather than a question.
 

“Yeah, I am,” Ben answered.
 
“Detective Nelson as much as told me that it’s coming.
 
I don’t see any reason to doubt him.”
 
Ben pointedly didn’t ask
Cavallaro
about any possible connections between Megan and Daniel Greenfield.
 
He knew he couldn’t trust anything
Cavallaro
would tell him.
 

“So what else am I supposed to do,”
Cavallaro
asked with a sarcastic edge in his voice.
 

“What are you supposed to do?” Ben asked as he opened his briefcase and grabbed the manila folder inside. “What you’re supposed to do is play the dutiful, supportive husband at all times and make sure all the expenses are properly paid.
 
Toward that end, here’s a Retainer Agreement,” he said tossing the manila folder down on the desk in front of
Cavallaro
, who lowered his eyes to look at it, but did not touch it.
 
“I’ll give you forty-eight hours to review it, sign it and get it back to me with the retainer check.
 
And another thing, you better start thinking about arranging for the bond.
 
It will probably be a big one if we get one at all.”
 

“Just like that?”
Cavallaro
asked looking up at Ben who stood impassively above him.
 

“Just like that.
 
And one more thing,” Ben said slinging his briefcase over his right shoulder, “don’t summon me again.
 
If you do, or if you continue to treat my staff like dirt under your five hundred dollar loafers, I will wait until this case is over and Megan is freed and then make her divorce from you my life’s work.
 
And I’ll succeed.”
 
He turned and headed toward the door.
 
“I’ll see myself out.”
 

Cavallaro
didn’t respond.
 

All eyes were on Ben as he walked back down the hall past the receptionist’s desk and out the wooden doors.
 
He reached the elevator doors just as two people got off.
 
As the doors to the elevator closed leaving him alone, he shook his head and said, “What a prick,” under his breath.

Rather than go directly to his car, Ben decided to go for a walk and grab a char dog at Gold Coast Dogs on State Street.
 
It wasn’t too cold outside and the exercise would do him good.
 
As expected, the hotdog hit the spot.
 
On his way back to the car, at the corner of State and
Kinzie
, in front of Harry
Caray’s
Restaurant, Ben’s cell phone buzzed.
 
Ben extricated it from the clip on his belt and looked at the display.
 
He didn’t recognize the number.
 
He flipped it open.
 
“Benjamin
Lohmeier
,” he said.
 

He immediately recognized the voice on the other end of the line.
 
“Ben, this is Scott Nelson.”

12

As soon as she answered, Ben started right in.
 
“Nance, it’s me.
 
I just got off the phone with Nelson.
 
D-Day is here,” he said all in rush.
 

“Oh, no,” she said, “I was hoping …”
 

“Yeah, me too,” he interrupted, “but we’re hoping for other things now, I guess.
 
We’re going to work the surrender at eight.
 
I want to be back down here by seven, seven-thirty.”
 

“Where are you?” she said.
 
“Are you outside?
 
What’s all that noise?”

“Yeah, I’m on my cell phone.
 
I’m walking over to Meg’s office.”
 

“You mean you haven’t told her yet?”
 

“No, I just found out.
 
I’m going to walk over and talk to her in person.”
 

“Okay,” she said, “what do you want me to do?”
 

“I’ve talked to Mark already, and he’s going to call Ken, and they’re going to meet over there later this afternoon.
 
Mark’s going to have some motions and stuff to put on the system so we can get them ready and on file ASAP.
 
Dan should be working on the brief for the bail hearing.
 
That should take place tomorrow morning.”
 

“Yeah, I think he’s already working on that.
 
He’s got a draft pretty well done.
 
Dianne is already typing it.”
 

“Good.
 
I’ve got to stop back at the house after I talk to Meg so I can change into a suit.
 
I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking dressing like this today, but I’ve got to have a suit on later.
 
I should be back there sometime this afternoon.
 
Put me through to Conlon.”
 

“Oh, by the way, how did your meeting with the asshole go?”
 

“Kind of fun actually.
 
I’ll fill you in later.”

Nancy transferred Ben to Dan Conlon, who said that the first draft of the brief had indeed been completed and was being typed at that very moment by Dianne Reynolds.
 
Conlon also pulled copies of the key four or five cases cited in the brief and would make extra copies for the Court and the prosecution.
 
Convinced that things were under control back at the office, Ben signed off and continued over to Meg’s office.
 

Ben found her in a hallway on her way to the bathroom.
 
They both stopped in their tracks when they saw each other.
 
She knew instantly why he had come and her shoulders sagged.
 
Tears welled up in her closed eyes as she fought to compose herself.
 
Without saying a word, Ben went to her, took her softly by the arm and led her to a small conference room at the far end of the corridor, closing the door behind them.
 
They sat in silence for several minutes before Ben relayed the details of his brief telephone conversation with Detective Nelson.
 
Nelson would be coming by the townhouse around eight to pick her up.
 
She would then be transferred to a local stationhouse on the near north side for processing before transferring to the main lockup at the Cook County Jail.
 

Their entire conversation lasted only a few minutes and Ben rose to leave.
 
“I’m sorry.
 
I have to get going.
 
I have a lot of things to do before I get back to your place.”
 

She nodded.
 
“I’ll be alright.
 
Just get going.
 
I’ll see you later.”

“Would you like me to take you home?” he asked.
 

“No.
 
No.
 
I’ll be okay.
 
I’m just going to sit here for a little bit and get myself together.
 
Then I’m going to talk to Joe.
 
You go ahead.”
 

She got up to say goodbye, and he put his arms around her in a long embrace, an uncharacteristic move for him.
 
“Trust me,” he whispered into her ear.
 
“We’ll get through this.
 
We’re going to beat this.”
 

She nodded.
 
“I’ll be okay.
 
Now you go ahead.”
 

He opened the door, took one last look at her, then closed the door behind him and was gone.
 

Traffic on the Eisenhower was light and he was back in his driveway in less than forty-five minutes.
 
He decided to grab a quick shower before he changed.
 
After he finished, Ben went around the corner to the walk-in closet and picked out a charcoal gray suit, white shirt and conservative blue tie.
 
He couldn’t believe that he was dressing with TV in mind.
  

As zero hour and Megan’s arrest rapidly approached, Ben felt himself enter a sort of zone with respect to the case.
 
While in this state, Ben’s intensity level and focus would skyrocket, while he subconsciously drove all extraneous matters, including people, from his thoughts.
 
He had experienced this single-minded sense of purpose at various points throughout his youth and it grew increasingly prevalent during his college and law school years.
 
During these periods, people frequently found him short-tempered and difficult.