It was a sunny morning, bright and early, and Alice locked Bennie’s front door behind her, dropped the keys in her messenger bag, and trekked down the street, heading to the office in her Bennie Rosato costume: curly topknot, oversized Penn Rowing T-shirt, baggy khaki shorts, and old-school tan Birkenstocks that made her walk like a duck. No wonder her sister couldn’t get laid.
She headed down the Parkway to the business district and in no time approached Bennie’s building. Skyscrapers lined the street, and people filled the sidewalks, some slinging backpacks even though they were middle-aged, proof positive that they were lawyers. She knew the MO; to an attorney, the weekend was the time to work even harder.
“Hey, Bennie!” called a man, and Alice startled a moment, then flashed him her sister’s big, easy smile.
“How’ve you been?”
“Great! Nice article in the Journal!”
“Don’t believe a word of it!” Alice shot back, and the lawyer laughed and kept walking.
She powered ahead, channeling Bennie, and it worked like magic. Her duck-walk changed to a stride, and she eyed the lineup of shops and office buildings. Ahead should be number 1717, and though she’d never been to the new digs, she had a hunch which building was Bennie’s. Most of the office buildings were modern with reflective windows, but one was smaller than the others, with a smooth limestone front and art deco- type brass plaques. Its entrance was a pair of old-fashioned glass doors, and their shiny brass handles glinted in the sun.
“Big Ben!” shouted a voice behind her. “Where’s my hello?”
Alice glanced back, uncertain about the nickname. Behind her, an old man in a turquoise street-cleaner uniform was leaning on a pushbroom, and she waved at him, like Bennie. “Sorry! Didn’t have my coffee yet!”
“I hear that!” he called back, grinning.
“Take care!”
“You, too!” Alice suppressed an eye-roll. The test-drive was going well, but she was feeling like a combination Mayor, Girl Scout, and Lawyer Barbie. She crossed the street, and next to the doors of the small building, a discreet brass sign read 1717, so she made a beeline for the entrance, opened the doors, and hit the lobby. A security guard, an older man with bifocals and a blue uniform, sat behind a wooden desk, reading a newspaper.
“That air-conditioning feels good, huh?” he called out, looking up.
“Sure does.” Alice managed a smile, but remembered that Bennie used ex-cops as guards, so this geezer was no dummy and she didn’t know the building’s security procedures. She wiped her forehead. “Boy, is it hot out.”
“We shoulda taken vacation this week.”
“Agree. I feel like Cinderella.” Alice sneaked a glance at the guard’s nameplate, STEVEN PALMIERI. She didn’t know if he went by Steven or Steve, and she’d have to get the details right. “You want my license and registration, Officer Palmieri?”
“Nah, you’re above the law, boss.”
“Thanks.” Alice walked past the desk.
“But sign in for me, will you?”
Alice froze. She had forgotten what Bennie’s signature looked like. It would be on her driver’s license, but that was in her wallet and the guard was already pushing the black log across the counter toward her.
“Need a pen?” he asked, handing her a Bic.