Free Mistaken Identity by Lisa Scottoline

the cloth chair across from the associate’s pristine desk. Bennie needed a bright, resourceful lawyer, and it didn’t hurt that Mary had an identical twin, whom Bennie had met last year.
    “Bennie!” DiNunzio said, startled, sitting at her computer keyboard. She was on the short side, well built, with dirty blond hair. Her makeup was simple, and her navy-blue suit modest and smart. Despite her professional appearance, DiNunzio always looked vaguely nervous to Bennie, who tried to put her at ease.
    “I thought I’d visit you, instead of having you in my office.” Bennie scanned the small office. The desk was clean, devoid of pictures or stand-up calendars. Leather-bound hornbooks stood in a straight-edged row on the bookshelves. Red accordion files were arranged alphabetically on the top of the credenza. An antique quilt hung on the wall, its patchwork colors the only disorder in the room. “Nice quilt,” Bennie said.
    “Thanks.”
    “Enough small talk?”
    DiNunzio smiled. “Yes.”
    “Good. How busy are you?”
    “I’m in the middle of a Third Circuit brief in
Samels.
It’s due on Friday, and I have another motion due to Judge Dalzell in
Marvell.
”
    “They’re writing assignments. You got any trials?”
    “No.”
    “Arbitrations or hearings? Any stand-up time at all?”
    “Not recently.”
    “You’re starting to sound like a big-firm lawyer. You want trial experience, don’t you? I thought that was the reason you and Carrier came here.”
    “It was. I just haven’t felt … ready.” DiNunzio colored slightly, and Bennie felt a guilty pang. The associate had been lying low after the Steere case. Not that Bennie blamed her, but it was time to get back on the horse.
    “You’re ready, Mary. I wouldn’t ask you to do more than you could. You want to be a trial lawyer, don’t you?”
    “Yes,” DiNunzio answered quickly, though she had spent most of the morning thinking of new careers. She could be a cat-sitter, a pastry chef, a teacher. Daydreaming about other jobs had become her full-time job. Somebody had to do it. “Sure, I want to be a trial lawyer.”
    “Then you can’t keep doing clerk work, can you?”
    “No,” Mary answered, though clerk work sounded fine to her. Law clerks never left the library, which cut down significantly on the opportunities for them to sleuth around or get shot at. Clerk work sounded great, even without dental. “I’d love a new case.”
    So Bennie began to explain the case, and Mary tried not to panic.

12
     
    T he computer lab at the prison was a shoebox of thick cinderblock, windowless and painted the standard washed-out gray. Inmates sat at the counter of computers and bent over the smudgy keyboards. Alice stood behind them as they powered up the ancient machines, since her gig was to teach computer technology. To Alice, anybody who would give up dealing smoke for word processing needed a course in economics, not computer tech.
    A guard stood at the door, his arms linked behind his back, but for the first time it didn’t bother Alice. In the upper corners of the room hung large curved mirrors that hid the surveillance cameras, but even they didn’t bug her anymore. Rosato had called and said to expect an emergency hearing today. Things were starting to happen on her case and happen fast. She was on her way out of this hellhole. Good fucking bye.
    Alice folded her arms in satisfaction over the V-neck of her blue cotton top. Navy-blue pants hung loosely on her thin frame, ending in white Keds she’d bought at the shop. Keds had the lowest street-status in the joint, but Alice didn’t give a shit about the things the inmates cared about. One of them had been caught after a family visit trying to smuggle a pair of Air Jordans in her bra.
Shouldn’ta pumped it up
,
Alice had cracked.
    “This computer ain’t workin’!” an inmate called out from the seat nearest the door.
    Alice ignored the outburst. She had a rule against calling out but the inmates