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Authors: Laura Lippman
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don’t have time for this either .
“I have information you’re having an affair with Michael Abramowitz.”
Ava looked puzzled, but only for a second. Then she gave Tess one of her full-force smiles. “Information? Possibly. But do you have proof?”
“Of course.”
“Really? I’d love to see it, or hear it. I hope I came out nicely in the photographs.” She took a dainty sip of beer.
“My proof is for my client. I am interested, however, in any explanation you might want to offer.”
Ava ate another mozzarella stick, very slowly. She appeared to be considering something, and she didn’t speak again until she had swallowed the last bite of fried cheese, then patted her lips dry with a paper napkin.
“You know, I thought I knew who you were working for when you called, but the person I was thinking of would have hired someone good, someone who knew how to dothings—assuming there was anything to do. So who are you working for?”
“Whom. Whom am I working for.”
“Whatever. Whomever .”
“Why don’t you tell me who you thought my client was, and I’ll tell you if you’re right.”
“I’m not convinced you work for anyone. You’re probably just a grubby little blackmailer, out for yourself.”
“I work for Darryl Paxton. Your fiancé, I believe. Or thinks he is.”
“Well, I like that,” Ava said. “I thought engaged people were supposed to trust each other.” She seemed offended but also a little relieved. Who was her original suspect? Tess wondered. Abramowitz, famous for his monastic devotion to his career, had been single all his life. He had no wife to check on him.
“Does a woman deserve her fiancé’s trust if she’s having an affair?”
“Do I deserve to endure this conversation when you don’t have any proof?”
“I said I did. I’ve been following you. I saw you in the Renaissance Harborplace with him. I saw you at the Gallery. Do you steal the underwear to wear for your boss? Or is that an unrelated hobby?”
This was more unnerving, Tess could tell. Cheating on your fiancé was one thing, but it didn’t keep one from being admitted to the bar. When Ava looked up, her eyes were filled with tears and her lips trembled. Save it for your next speeding ticket , Tess thought.
“Are you going to tell Darryl?” Her voice actually quavered.
“That’s my job. He hired me to find out why you were acting so weird. I think I have an answer.”
“But Michael has nothing to—” she started, then stopped abruptly, her face shifting back into its normal, haughty expression. The tone of her voice also changed, suddenly amused and airy.
“Of course you have to tell him,” she agreed. “But I needto talk to him first.” Tess smiled, a playwright watching happily as the curtain line approached. But she had never anticipated the actress might ad-lib.
“Yes, I’ll call him and tell him how my boss has been making me sleep with him so I can keep my job. I’ll tell him it’s Anita Hill all over again and it freaked me out, which is why I started to shoplift. Darryl will believe me and Darryl will forgive me. It won’t matter what you tell him.”
“You’re a lawyer. I assume if you were a victim of sexual harassment, you’d know how to handle it a little better than that.”
“Did you hear about that case in Philadelphia? A woman lawyer sued this big-shot partner, and the jury found in her favor, then gave her nothing in damages. What good is that? A victim deserves compensation, don’t you think?”
“Are you a victim?”
“At this point it’s a matter of opinion, and I think I am,” Ava said. She stood up, pulling her purse close to her body, making no move to put money down for her beer. “A court may not agree with me, but I’m sure Darryl will. That’s the only jury I need to persuade.”
Tess was flustered, incapable of a response. She had assumed Ava would rush to tell Rock her version, burying herself by revealing too much. She had counted on
“I have information you’re having an affair with Michael Abramowitz.”
Ava looked puzzled, but only for a second. Then she gave Tess one of her full-force smiles. “Information? Possibly. But do you have proof?”
“Of course.”
“Really? I’d love to see it, or hear it. I hope I came out nicely in the photographs.” She took a dainty sip of beer.
“My proof is for my client. I am interested, however, in any explanation you might want to offer.”
Ava ate another mozzarella stick, very slowly. She appeared to be considering something, and she didn’t speak again until she had swallowed the last bite of fried cheese, then patted her lips dry with a paper napkin.
“You know, I thought I knew who you were working for when you called, but the person I was thinking of would have hired someone good, someone who knew how to dothings—assuming there was anything to do. So who are you working for?”
“Whom. Whom am I working for.”
“Whatever. Whomever .”
“Why don’t you tell me who you thought my client was, and I’ll tell you if you’re right.”
“I’m not convinced you work for anyone. You’re probably just a grubby little blackmailer, out for yourself.”
“I work for Darryl Paxton. Your fiancé, I believe. Or thinks he is.”
“Well, I like that,” Ava said. “I thought engaged people were supposed to trust each other.” She seemed offended but also a little relieved. Who was her original suspect? Tess wondered. Abramowitz, famous for his monastic devotion to his career, had been single all his life. He had no wife to check on him.
“Does a woman deserve her fiancé’s trust if she’s having an affair?”
“Do I deserve to endure this conversation when you don’t have any proof?”
“I said I did. I’ve been following you. I saw you in the Renaissance Harborplace with him. I saw you at the Gallery. Do you steal the underwear to wear for your boss? Or is that an unrelated hobby?”
This was more unnerving, Tess could tell. Cheating on your fiancé was one thing, but it didn’t keep one from being admitted to the bar. When Ava looked up, her eyes were filled with tears and her lips trembled. Save it for your next speeding ticket , Tess thought.
“Are you going to tell Darryl?” Her voice actually quavered.
“That’s my job. He hired me to find out why you were acting so weird. I think I have an answer.”
“But Michael has nothing to—” she started, then stopped abruptly, her face shifting back into its normal, haughty expression. The tone of her voice also changed, suddenly amused and airy.
“Of course you have to tell him,” she agreed. “But I needto talk to him first.” Tess smiled, a playwright watching happily as the curtain line approached. But she had never anticipated the actress might ad-lib.
“Yes, I’ll call him and tell him how my boss has been making me sleep with him so I can keep my job. I’ll tell him it’s Anita Hill all over again and it freaked me out, which is why I started to shoplift. Darryl will believe me and Darryl will forgive me. It won’t matter what you tell him.”
“You’re a lawyer. I assume if you were a victim of sexual harassment, you’d know how to handle it a little better than that.”
“Did you hear about that case in Philadelphia? A woman lawyer sued this big-shot partner, and the jury found in her favor, then gave her nothing in damages. What good is that? A victim deserves compensation, don’t you think?”
“Are you a victim?”
“At this point it’s a matter of opinion, and I think I am,” Ava said. She stood up, pulling her purse close to her body, making no move to put money down for her beer. “A court may not agree with me, but I’m sure Darryl will. That’s the only jury I need to persuade.”
Tess was flustered, incapable of a response. She had assumed Ava would rush to tell Rock her version, burying herself by revealing too much. She had counted on
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