The Good Twin(25)
“Charlotte?”
“I promise, Daddy.”
Rick turned again to Ben. “I wanted you to come tonight to hear this. When I’m gone, I don’t want you pressuring Charlotte to turn the firm over to you. Ted’s been with me almost twenty years. He deserves it.”
“You’re right, Rick,” Ben said, a serious look on his face and a somber tone to his voice. “Ted should take over the firm. No one knows the business better than he does.” Until Mallory takes Charly’s place. Then it’s mine. All mine.
Two nights later, Ben walked into a grungy establishment in the Bed-Stuy section of Brooklyn and immediately spotted Jeff Mullin at the bar. He walked over to him and slapped him on the back. “How you doing, buddy? It’s been a while.”
Mullin turned to him, and Ben got his first good look. He was easily twenty pounds lighter than he’d been in high school, and he’d been slim back then. His eyes were sunken, with dark circles underneath, and his hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in weeks.
“Yeah, almost ten years,” Mullin said.
Ben ordered a beer, plus another for Mullin, then said, “Let’s go grab a booth.” They found an empty one near the back and slid onto the cushioned benches.
Almost immediately Mullin asked, “Why have you been looking for me?”
Ben shrugged. “People talk. I heard things have been hard for you. We were friends once. I just wanted to see if I could do anything for you.”
Ben saw Mullin looking over his tailored suit and gold cuff links, and thought he’d been smart to leave the Rolex at home.
“Sure. If you have an extra ten grand at home, I’d be happy to take it off your hands.”
Ben looked around the establishment. Across the room, two men sat at the bar, as did a woman at the end, each looking scruffier than the next. Three booths were occupied, one by a single man and the other two with couples. The booths on either side of Ben were empty. He leaned in to Mullin, and with his voice barely above a whisper, said, “How about fifty grand?”
Mullin laughed. “What do you want me to do? Kill someone?”
Ben stared at him without saying a word.
Mullin’s eyes grew wider. “Damn! That is what you want.”
Ben picked up his beer and took a swallow. “Let’s say, hypothetically, that someone did need that. What would you say?”
“I’d say you got the wrong guy for it.” Mullin looked away from Ben, then began running his hands down his pants legs. After a while, he said, “I did my killing in Afghanistan. I’m finished with that.”
“Okay, then, our business is done.” He pulled a twenty from his wallet and threw it down on the table. “Good seeing you again, Jeff.”
As he started to rise, Mullin reached over the table and grabbed Ben’s arm. “Hold on. I said I wouldn’t do it. Doesn’t mean I don’t know someone who would. For the right price, I could introduce you.”
“How do I know I can trust you not to run to the police?”
“Man, the last person I’m going to talk to is a cop.”
“Even if you get busted for something? Using this info to trade for a deal?”
Mullin looked around the bar. “I don’t squeal on buddies. You still a buddy?”
“We were back in high school, when I wrote those English papers for you. And when we both got drunk and broke the principal’s office window, I got caught and never named you.”
“There you go,” Mullin said. “That makes you a buddy. What do you want to tell me?”
“I want to find someone to kill my wife.”
Mullin let out a low whistle. “How much?”
“Fifty thousand for you. Two hundred thousand for the killer.”
Mullin took a few quick breaths, then downed some more beer. “I got the guy for you.”
“Is he trustworthy?”
“I’d trust him with my life.”
CHAPTER 18
November 6, 2016
From: bswann129
To: malloryart24
Re: LA
Hi, Love,
Miss you loads. Class not the same without you. Have great news. Stan has a business trip to LA next week, and he promised to take me along. We’re getting in on Nov. 8, leaving on the tenth. Can we see you for dinner?
Brian
November 6, 2016
From: malloryart24
To: bswann129
Re: LA
Hi, Brian,
I’m so bummed out. My company is sending me to Phoenix for two weeks, and I won’t be in LA. I miss you, too. Tell Stan he owes me a dinner whenever I get back to NY.
November 18, 2016
From: bswann129
To: malloryart24
Re: Thanksgiving Stan says come for Thanksgiving, and he’ll cook up a feast. He’ll even pay for your flight, and you can stay in our guest bedroom.
November 18, 2016
From: malloryart24
To: bswann129
Re: Thanksgiving I wish I could. They have me on a deadline for a big-ticket project. I’ll be working late on Wednesday night before Thanksgiving and back in the office early Friday morning.
Ben made his way over to Holy Apostles Soup Kitchen, on West Twenty-Eighth Street and Ninth Avenue, to help serve Thanksgiving dinner. Usually, Charly joined him, something they’d done together every year since they’d married, but tonight she was spending it with her father and grandfather. It wasn’t just Thanksgiving that he volunteered. He tried to do it one night a month, but sometimes work interfered. Or a preference to spend the evening with Lisa. Thanksgiving, though, had become sacrosanct, now out of habit rather than desire. He’d worked at some food shelter, alongside his parents, every Thanksgiving since he was ten years old. His parents had instilled in him from a very young age the importance of giving back. For a long time, it made him feel good about himself when he did. No longer. Now, he continued so he could artfully drop it into conversation with a client, or even a prospective client. To show what a good person he was, so considerate of those less fortunate, so trustworthy. He generously contributed to various charities for the same reason—not just the ones whose events Charly attended for the sake of making connections. No, he gave regularly to his alma mater, and to the New York City Police Athletic League—he thought sports was important for every kid. Sometimes he donated to the Fresh Air Fund. He had gone to summer camp himself and thought that would be good for every kid. It was easier to give money than his time, but clients often congratulated him on his selflessness and then referred their friends to him. Even if his motive for volunteering had changed from altruistic to pecuniary, he still thought of himself as a good person for keeping it up.