Sleight of Hand

CHAPTER Fifty-Six

Dana took off her wig and glasses as soon as she shut the door to her room in the hotel near the airport that Santoro and Robb had chosen for the sting. There was a desk, a couch, and a bed. Across from the bed was an armoire that concealed a television. A suitcase was on a stand next to the armoire.

Dana turned on the TV and channel-surfed to kill time while she waited for Benedict to call. Rick Hamada and Bobby Schatz had primed the pump by building up the importance the prenuptial agreement held for the commonwealth’s case, and Dana could tell that Benedict had been excited by the bait she had dangled in front of him. Now they had to hope that the cover that had been provided by Marty Draper and the hastily constructed website for “Myra Blankenship’s” fictitious business would hold up.

Nothing on TV held Dana’s interest and she switched off the set. Her room had been rigged with surveillance cameras and microphones in case Benedict attacked her in the room. One of the microphones crackled when Stephanie Robb tested it.

“Can you hear me?” Robb asked.

“Yeah, you’re fine.”

“Benedict is still at his office. I’m guessing he’ll wait until it’s dark to make his move.”

“I hope he does it soon. That damn wig makes my head itch.”

“Hey, no one ever said police work was easy,” Santoro quipped. “We’ll tell you when he leaves.”



“Benedict is definitely a man of many talents,” Robb said shortly after sunset. “He just boosted a car from a shopping mall and he’s headed your way. We’re going to get him, Dana.”

“Just make sure you’ve got me covered. I don’t want to end up as his next victim.”

“Don’t worry. We’ve got undercover cops all over the hotel. Just sit tight until he shows up.”



Twenty minutes later, the phone rang.

“Yes?” Dana said.

“Hi, it’s Charlie Benedict. I took care of my other business and I’m going to go to the jail to talk to Horace. Do you have the prenup?”

“Yes.”

“Great! I’m in the parking lot. Can you bring it down? It will save time, and I know you’re in a rush to find out what Horace is going to do.”

“I really appreciate this, Mr. Benedict.”

“Charlie.”

“Where are you parked?”

“Come out the back. I didn’t want anyone to see us, so I’m in the next-to-the-last row. I’ll blink my lights when you come out the rear door.”

“I’ll be right down.”

“Did you get that?” Dana asked Robb after she ended Benedict’s call.

“We’re repositioning everyone now. Give us five minutes.”

Dana put on her wig. When five minutes were up, she threw a trench coat over her jacket and shirt. Then she grabbed a copy of the prenuptial agreement that Jack Pratt had worked up and took the elevator to the ground floor.

Dana took her time walking to the back of the hotel. Few people were in the back lobby and fewer still were in the parking lot. A set of headlights flashed at her as soon as she stepped out of the hotel. They were in a section of the lot toward the back that was completely dark. Every other section was lit by well-spaced lamp poles.

Charlie had stolen a beat-up Honda that was all alone in the next-to-last row of the hotel lot. Dana noticed shards of glass from a shattered streetlight littering the asphalt. Benedict got out of the car as soon as Dana reached it. He was wearing a hooded sweatshirt, jeans, and scuffed trainers. Dana knew how he had dressed when he went to Ernest Brodsky’s shop, so she wasn’t surprised, but she frowned as if his getup puzzled her.

“Hi,” Benedict said with a disarming smile. He pointed at the manila envelope Dana was holding. “Is that the prenup?”

“Yes. Why are you dressed like that?”

“Before I tell you, would you like to see a magic trick?”

“What?” Dana answered, feigning confusion.

Benedict pulled back his sleeves. “Nothing in my hands or up my sleeves, right?”

“Uh, yes,” Blankenship answered.

Benedict made a pass and a large hunting knife suddenly appeared in his hand. Dana’s mouth opened and her eyes went wide with surprise. Benedict had practiced the move he’d used to kill Ernest Brodsky, Tiffany Starr, and his other victims so often that it was automatic. As soon as Dana was distracted by his trick, his hand snaked out and he stabbed her, anticipating the thrill when the knife sliced through her flesh and invaded her heart. Instead, the knife recoiled and it was Benedict who looked as if he’d just witnessed magic.

Before he could move again, Dana grabbed Benedict’s wrist and twisted. The lawyer felt a bone snap, his eyes widened with pain, and he dropped the knife. Dana sidestepped and smashed an elbow into Benedict’s temple. Then she swept his feet from under him. Benedict fell hard. His head bounced off the asphalt and he was momentarily dazed. Before he could react, Dana broke his arm, then rolled the lawyer on his stomach and cuffed his hands behind his back. The pain in his broken wrist and arm was excruciating and he screamed. Dana knelt down and whispered in Benedict’s ear.

“The wrist was for setting Gregor Karpinski on me, and the arm was for Tiffany Starr. I can think of a lot of other things I’d like to do to you but cops are here to take you into custody, so you’re lucky.”

Moments later, Frank Santoro, Stephanie Robb, and four uniformed police officers ran up.

“Good work,” Robb said.

“It was my pleasure,” Dana said as she took off the wig and glasses she’d worn to play the role of Myra Blankenship. Then she spread back her overcoat and looked at her torso. A tear in her shirt revealed a Kevlar vest.

“You were right, Frank,” Dana said. “Benedict used his knife in the same way he used it on Brodsky and Starr.”

“I was pretty certain he wouldn’t change a successful MO.”

“My wrist!” Benedict gasped. “Take off the cuffs. It’s broken.”

“You should have thought of that when you tried to kill Ms. Cutler,” Santoro said.

“Who is Cutler?” Benedict asked.

“Tiffany Starr knew her as Loren Parkhurst and you thought she was Myra Blankenship, but she’s the person who figured out how to nail you, Charlie.”



Dana drove to police headquarters and gave a statement. She was finishing up when Robb and Santoro walked in.

“Really good work, Dana,” Santoro said. “If you ever want back on the force, you’ll get a letter of recommendation from me.”

Dana smiled. “Right now, all I want is a good night’s sleep.”

Santoro laughed. “I hear you.”

Dana grew somber. “It dawned on me as I was driving here that everything I’ve done in this case has been for Carrie Blair, but I only met her when she was pretending to be Margo Laurent. What was she like?”

“She was tough,” Robb said. “Dedicated.”

“She loved putting bad guys away and she hated to lose,” Santoro added.

“What was she like off the job?”

“I didn’t know her in that way,” Robb said. “When she married Horace Blair she became ‘The Society Prosecutor.’ It put a lot of people off and made a lot more uncomfortable. Most of us make a decent living, but none of us can even dream of being in her tax bracket.”

“I think she buried herself in her work because she was unhappy,” Santoro said. “From what I hear, the marriage hadn’t worked in a long time. Of course, I got that from the gossip columns and wagging tongues in the prosecutor’s office and the cop shop.”

“I feel sorry for her,” Robb said. “She got what most of us can only dream of getting—the money, the mansion, the fancy cars—but it didn’t seem to make her happy.”

Dana wondered if she and Carrie would have gotten along. She guessed they might have, but she’d never know now.

“I’m really beat,” Dana said. “Do you need me anymore?”

“Go home and get some sleep,” Robb said. “And thanks again. We’d never have gotten Benedict if it wasn’t for you.”

“Remember, you don’t have him yet,” Dana said. “He is one tricky bastard. Don’t let your guard down for a minute.”