“I tracked down the plumbing problem,” she said, pointing to the hole where floorboards used to be. “Leaky pipe. Just below your bedroom.”

“So… I assume you’re working on it?”

“Like, you thought maybe I was going for a swim under your bed?”

“Well… I didn’t… I-”

“Yes, I’m working on it. I knew I’d end up soaked-I always do when I handle these plumbing jobs for you. Don’t worry. I’ll mop up the mess.”

Now that he noticed, she did appear to be wet, which certainly had an effect on the adherent qualities of her suit.

“So I thought-be smart for once, Joni. Switch into your suit before you start the job. Hope you don’t mind.”

Ben managed to speak even though his tongue was thick and cottony. “I can live with it.”

“Good. I was afraid you might have a stroke or something.”

“What? Since when-”

“I know how uncomfortable you are with some things. Like human physiology.”

“That’s… not at all…”

“I told my mom what I was doing when I changed. She asked if she could come, too.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Wanted to see the expression on your face.”

“I don’t see why that would be at all amusing.”

“Me neither. You were totally stoic. Cool and debonair.” She looked away, smiling. “Anyway, the plumbing job’s just about done. I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“Good.” He loosened his tie and tossed it down on his bed. “I have some things to do.”

She grabbed a wrench and went back at it. “Really? Hot Scrabble game?”

The weird thing was she said that like there was something wrong with it. “No.”

“Don’t tell me-you and Christina are going to do something else? Monopoly, maybe? I guess for you that would be, like, second base.”

He popped open his briefcase. “Christina’s in Chicago.”

“Why?”

“She’s working on a case.”

“But you’re not?”

“It’s her own deal.”

Joni’s eyebrows knitted. “I didn’t think she had her own deals.”

“Well, she does.”

“Is there, like, something wrong between you two?”

“Not at all. She’s just working.”

“Hmm.” Joni gave the pipe a final twist, which required flexing her biceps and creating a rippling effect that Ben thought he was unlikely to forget anytime in the near future. Then she began putting the floorboards back into place. “Well, it’s none of my business. But can I give you some advice?”

“I need a college junior to be my spiritual adviser?”

“Ben, you know how I love and respect you. And you know what a mentor you’ve been to me. But despite my relative youth, there are a few things I know more about than you.”

“Such as?”

“Life.” She hammered the floorboards back into place. “Maybe you should give Christina a call.”

“She’s busy.”

“Couldn’t you help?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I don’t suppose you’re inclined to tell me why.”

“Not in the least.”

“Same old Ben.” She grabbed a towel, then walked right up to him, wet bikini and all. “Could you at least do me a favor? Dry my back. There’s a spot I can’t reach.”

Reluctantly, Ben took the towel. Damn, but being a landlord was hard! The responsibilities were overwhelming.

Mike dropped by around eight, using the excuse of a hot Xena rerun and bearing a New York-style pizza from Mario’s. Actually, the Xena thing was a pretty good excuse as far as Ben was concerned. He hadn’t seen this episode before; Xena was in top form, hacking away in her black leather.

“So, you’re really going to take this Chicago case?” Mike asked.

“Christina is,” Ben replied. “I’m not having anything to do with it.”

“Word is lots of people are out to get that Christensen kid. Anyone associated with him is in danger.”

“Swell. I like this case even better now.”

“Why don’t you let me call someone at Chicago PD? Maybe they can send an officer over to keep an eye on Christina? At least during the trial.”

“Don’t bother. You know Christina won’t allow it. The jurors would assume Christina thought she needed protection from her client. Which would not exactly improve her chances.”

“Maybe they can send someone low-key. Plainclothes.”

“I don’t think it will make any difference.”

“Oh, well. It’s not as if she’s ever gotten herself in trouble before.” He popped open a beer. “So, why is she in Chicago while you’re here?”

Ben’s forehead creased. “I assume she’s working on her impending trial.”

“But you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.”

“And there’s nothing unusual about that.”

“No, there isn’t. We’re two separate human beings. We have separate lives. Separate identities.”

“Fine, fine. Don’t go all I-did-not-sleep-with-that-woman on me. You want the last slice of pizza?”

Ben cast his eyes down to the nearly empty cardboard box. “Not enough to arm wrestle you for it.”

“Good call. I’d cream you.”

“I’ve been working out.”

Mike dangled the tail of the last Combo Supreme over his lips. “Success is counted sweetest / By those who ne’er succeed…”

Maybe he should call her, Ben thought, as he sat in his overstuffed chair staring at nothing. Forget that he had turned the case down, that she had gone over his head. She had been practicing for almost two years now; it was not unusual for her to handle a case on her own. Joni had said he was a mentor. Maybe he should take that attitude. Offer her that kind of assistance, just like when he was starting out and he’d had-

Well, okay, he pretty much did it on his own. But that didn’t mean Christina had to. He should just pick up the phone and-

But he couldn’t. Not this time. Not this case. It went too deep. The hurt was too ingrained. He couldn’t make himself do it. And even if he did, how could he know he was doing a good job? He couldn’t possibly be objective, not here, not with-

He stretched his feet out on the ottoman. His stomach was churning, and it wasn’t because of the pizza, either. This was tearing him apart. He played the piano for a while, but it didn’t calm him. He tried to work the New York Times crossword, but couldn’t focus. All he could think about was Christina.

He had known her for so long now, cared about her so deeply, he felt closer to her than anyone he had ever known in his life. Not that he would ever tell her that. But it was true. He hated leaving her dangling in the wind like this. What was that kid’s mother doing, anyway, giving a case of this magnitude, with this much media saturation, to a lawyer of Christina’s relative inexperience?

Of course he knew exactly what she was doing. And that was why he couldn’t give in.

He gripped the arms of his chair resolutely. This was the way it had to be, like it or not. He could not help Christina with this case. Not at all. Not a bit. Absolutely not. Never.

The next morning, Ben unlocked the front doors and tiptoed into his office. As far as he knew, everyone else was in Chicago, but he was taking no chances.

With great stealth he made his way to Christina’s office. Her desk was a mess, as usual, but this time she had a pretty good excuse. He was glad, because it made it all the easier for him to execute his plan.

He punched on the computer monitor at Jones’s workstation. He knew Christina had a laptop and would check for e-mail periodically. First, he forwarded a hyperlink to a Web page on the University of Chicago Law School’s Web site: STUDENTS SEEKING INTERN POSITIONS. Next, he sent a link to the Lexus database that keyed up the text of State v. Harmon. Christina was brilliant when it came to arguments in equity, which were the heart of any motion for a continuance, but she sometimes forgot about the more arcane legal precedents; what’s more, Ben’s sources had told him that Judge Lacayo was a sucker for public policy arguments. Since he was using Jones’s e-mail program, Christina would assume the case had come from Paula. Which was good.