Final Exam: A Legal Thriller (14 page)

“No, that pretty much covers it, I think,” Mark said without looking up as he scratched notes on a yellow pad in his heavy hand.
 

“You know,” Ben said as he got down and noticed Mark taking notes, “you don’t have to press so hard on the paper, do you?
 
I mean, you’re not trying to typeset here.”
 

“It’s just the way I write.”
 

“You know, I’ll talk to Phil about that empty office down the hallway by the men’s bathroom.
 
It’s not the best location in the world, but at least it’s an office and it’s pretty private.
 
I’m sure he won’t mind if you work in there.”
 

“That would be great,” Mark said.
 

“It’ll be great,” Ken said, “until somebody comes along and takes a dump in that bathroom.
 
Mark my word.
 
You’ll see.”

14

Ben went back upstairs to his office, checked his voicemail and e-mail and sat down to work on his presentation for the bail hearing.
 
At about five-fifteen, Dan Conlon brought him the final draft of the motion for bail, supporting brief and the stack of cases cited therein.
 
He dumped them on the bench next to Ben’s briefcase.
 
Fifteen minutes later, Nancy stuck her head in to tell him she was taking off for the night.
 
“You need anything else before I go?” she said.
 
“I can stay if you want me too.
 
I don’t have any plans.”
 

Ben looked up at her with a vague expression of not having heard a word she said.
 
“No.
 
That’s okay, you go ahead,” he said finally.
 
“I think I’ve got everything I need here.”
 

“Well, okay,” she said, “good luck tonight, tomorrow too.
 
You think this is going to be on the ten o’clock news?”
 

Ben shrugged.
 
“I hope not, but it wouldn’t surprise me.”
 

She wished him luck again and was gone.

Ben pulled a copy of the bail brief out of the pile and reviewed it once again, not that he could make any changes anymore at this point.
 
A pretty good effort, he thought to himself, as he put it back in the pile.
 
He looked at his watch - it was almost six.
 
He had to leave.
 
He grabbed a fresh notepad and stuffed it into his briefcase and stood there for a second thinking about whether he’d forgotten anything.
 
Deciding that he hadn’t, Ben put on his suit coat and overcoat, slung his briefcase over his shoulder and grabbed the stack of pleadings for the Court, shutting his light off on the way out.
 

As he passed the office at the top of the stairs, he nodded in at Marc Swift, another associate, who was on the telephone.
 
He was always on the telephone.
 
He ran into Casey Gardner in the copy room, on his way back from the bathroom.
 
“Good luck,” Casey said slapping him on the shoulder as they passed each other.
 
“Hey,” Casey said as he stopped in the doorway of the copy room right outside Dan Conlon’s office.
 
Ben stopped at the opposite end of the room and turned to face him.
 
“What do you think?
 
Did she do it?” Casey asked.
 

Ben gave a gesture that was partway between a shrug and a shake of the head.
 
“It would be hard to imagine … No, I don’t think so.”

“Well, somebody did.”
 

“Yeah,” Ben said, “somebody did.”
 

“Well, anyway, good luck.”
 

“Thanks,” Ben said as he turned and headed for the door.
 

Ben pushed through the back door and stepped out onto the porch.
 
He stood there for a moment and watched the wind blow swirls of snow off the roof of the garage.
 
A tall lamplight stationed on the snowy bank beyond the parking spaces and driveway illuminated the area and gave a faintly
Christmasy
feel to the scene.
 
Then the light went out.
 
It did that a lot, Ben recalled.
 
He often looked out at this light from the window behind his desk and noticed that it went off and on and off again with surprising frequency.
 
He could be sitting and working at his computer and catch the light going on or off out of the corner of his eye and was always somewhat startled by it.
 

Occasionally, he would look out the window to see whether anything caused the light to go on, such as a passing car or a commuter walking through the parking lot from the train station, but was never able to come up with anything.
 
Ben shrugged, shook his head and headed down the steps toward his car.
 

***

Almost thirty miles away, Megan Rand
Cavallaro
watched her husband and son move away down the corridor.
 
When they reached the elevators, she turned and went back inside her condominium.
 
She leaned against the closed door and listened silently until she knew they were gone.
 
When would she next be able to take Anthony in her arms and tell him that she loved him?
 
She slid down the door to a sitting position and buried her head in her hands as tears began to well in her eyes and drip down on to the knees of her pants.
 

What if they didn’t believe her?
 
What if she were found guilty?
 
Thoughts like these swirled around her head leaving her dizzy with fear.
 
What if Joe died while she was in prison?
 
Who would take care of Anthony?
 
Who would go to Anthony’s high school graduation?
 
To his wedding?
 
Who would make sure that he always knew how much his mother loved her only child?
 
She couldn’t know.
 

After a while, the tears slowed, the cathartic release having done all it could, and Megan rose to her feet and began preparing for Ben’s arrival and that which lay ahead.
 
First, she decided on a quick shower, not knowing when she would next get another in the comfort and quiet of her own bathroom.
 
As the hot water cascaded down her back, she studied the sounds, scents and sensations around her as though for the first time.
 
The smell of the soap and shampoo and the feel of the thick bath towel wrapped around her brought fresh tears to her eyes.
 
She fought to compose herself as she wiped the steam off the mirror with her hand and gazed at her own reflection, both from the front and the side as if composing her own mug shot.
 
She looked like hell, her eyes puffy and red.

Meg removed a pair of gold, heart-shaped earrings and set them softly on the counter next to her watch.
 
She would need neither where she was going.
 
After fumbling in the medicine cabinet for some Visine, she clumsily put two drops into each eye.
 
She reached for her make-up, then hesitated, figuring there wasn’t really any point.
 
She didn’t use much make-up anyway so she applied a little mascara and some moisturizing cream and left it at that.

Meg stepped out of the bathroom and into the coolness of her bedroom and walked over to the closet to pick out something to wear.
 
What do you wear to an arrest?
 
She didn’t know.
 
She settled on a black sweater, jeans and a pair of suede casual shoes.
 
As good as anything.
 
After she finished getting dressed, she tidied up the bedroom and threw her dirty clothes into a hamper.
 
She found her cell phone on the dresser and turned it off.

Coming into the kitchen, Meg noticed the clock on the wall and realized that Ben wouldn’t be there for a while.
 
She rinsed off the dishes and placed them into the dishwasher with some Cascade she found under the sink and started the machine before wiping off the counter with a wet sponge.
 
For just an instant, she thought about changing the message on her answering machine before realizing that anyone who wished to speak to her would undoubtedly know that she couldn’t come to the phone and why.

When Meg finished in the kitchen, she pulled the vacuum out of the hall closet and did a quick once-over on the living room carpeting, moved the magazines from the coffee table to a pile on a buffet against the far wall and straightened up the cushions on the sofa.
 
With nothing else left to do, she curled up on the sofa and waited quietly for Ben to arrive, taking in the small details of the room, her fate and her future pressing in on her from all sides.

***

The drive downtown took almost an hour.
 
Ben left his car in valet and pushed through the revolving doors at the entrance to the building.
 
Having been alerted to Ben’s pending arrival, the security guard sent him upstairs with barely a cursory glance.
 

Ben took the elevator up to the 22
^nd
floor and found Megan’s unit at the end of the corridor on the right-hand side.
 
She opened the door before he even had a chance to knock, the security guard downstairs having called a moment before.
 

“Hi, come on in,” she said in a soft voice.
 

Megan led him from a smallish entryway into a good-sized living room.
 
Ben had never been here before, though he wasn’t terribly surprised at what he saw in his first look around.
 
The room was light and airy, very feminine looking, a sole table lamp illuminating the entire room.
 
The carpeting was off-white, as were the walls, and a large, formal Chippendale coffee table stood in the middle of the room flanked by a pale yellow overstuffed sofa and matching wing chairs in a soft chenille fabric.
 
A glass vase with a dried flower arrangement sat on the coffee table, and Ben noticed a similar one on a buffet table against the wall.
 
Inoffensive modern art, mostly geometric shapes in pastel colors, dotted the walls.
 
Although tastefully decorated, the room felt sterile and almost non-lived in.
 
Ben noticed that he could still see the marks the vacuum cleaner had left on the carpeting.
 
He thought he could smell lemon furniture polish.

“Can I take your coat?” Meg asked.
 

“Sure.
 
Why don’t you just leave it on the chair?
 
We’ll be going in a little while.”
 

She took the coat from him and rather than drape it over the chair, hung it up in the hall closet.
 
Everything has its place, Ben thought.
 
He walked into the room and sat down in one of the wing chairs.
 
Meg stopped in front of the sofa and said, “What do you think of my arrest outfit?” holding her arms out and posing before taking a seat across from him.
 

Ben eyed her carefully.
 
He decided to play along.
 
“Very nice,” he replied.
 
“Sweaters are always good.
 
Perhaps you can come out with your own line.
 
I don’t know, maybe add some stripes?”

She laughed a little.
 
“Thanks a lot.”

“I’m always here to help.”

They sat there awkwardly for a few moments, Meg sitting very still, leaning slightly forward, her feet together and her hands folded in her lap.
 

“So,” she said with a slight smile and a shrug of her shoulders.
 

Ben fidgeted in his seat and surveyed the room.
 
“This seems very nice,” he said finally.
 
He had never been to Megan’s condo before.

“Thanks.
 
What am I thinking?” she said, “Would you like anything to drink?”
  

“Water would be fine, thanks.”
 

“I’ll go get some for you.
 
I’ll be back in a second,” she said rising to her feet.
 

Ben got up too.
 
“I’ll go with.”
 

He followed her through a doorway at the back end of the room and into a formal dining room.
 
Next to the dining room and behind the living room was the kitchen.
 
Meg turned on a light as she led him into the kitchen and took a glass from the middle shelf of one of the cupboards over the sink.
 
The room was also light and airy, even at night.
 
Beyond the kitchen and separated by a half-wall was a nicely-sized eating area.
 
The dining room, kitchen and eating area all afforded spectacular views of Lake Michigan between the buildings to the east.
 

Ben walked through the kitchen and into the eating area and stood before a large window facing the lake.
 
Light from the kitchen struck him and cast his profile in shadow on the wall to his right.
 
He gazed down at the dark water below, the lights of the City appearing as sparkles on the water lapping against the shore wall.
 
“This is quite a view,” he said, without looking back, as she entered the room behind him.
 
“I’ll bet it’s really something in the morning when the sun’s out.”