Glossed and Found

by India Ink

  I stared at Elliot. As much as I wanted to lie and say yes, I couldn’t. Auntie had brought me up better than that. I sighed. “I need my purse.”

  Kyle motioned to Auntie. “Miss Florence, can you get Persia’s purse for her?” He motioned to the other officer. “Call for another cruiser and take Elliot to the hospital after you read him his rights. And collect the stones that he threw through the window. Don’t mess up any fingerprints.”

  I felt like I was back in junior high, getting into fights again. And by the look on Auntie’s face, I was due for a scolding like I hadn’t had since that time. I slung my purse over my shoulder, listened to Kyle as he read me my rights, and indicated I understood them.

  As he put his hand on the top of my head to make sure I didn’t hit the top of the cruiser as I slid into the backseat, it occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, I hadn’t handled matters the way I should have.

  Chapter Eight

  Having never had the pleasure of being arrested before, I was in for an experience. Oh yeah, the wrong seat in the patrol car, all right. I stared at the steel mesh that separated me from the front, thinking that, actually, with my temper, it was a miracle this hadn’t happened before.

  On the way to the station house, Kyle kept his words short and clipped. “Persia, I can’t believe you did that. You bludgeoned the guy.”

  “You know how much that creep’s gotten under my skin since last spring,” I said. “He’s damned lucky I didn’t break more than his nose.”

  He glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Yeah, and you’re lucky you didn’t, either. As it is, you’re going to at least be paying some fines. The judge may take some pity on you, seeing how far Elliot’s pushed you over the past few months, but still . . . Persia, you gave him a black eye and broke his nose!”

  “I would have busted his balls, too, if you hadn’t stopped me.” I sighed and stared out the window. Jail wasn’t my idea of the best way to spend the afternoon. And poor Auntie, she had to watch me get carted off. I leaned my head back, groaning slightly. “Damn it, it’s all Elliot’s fault. I take responsibility when I really screw up, but damn it, Kyle, that freakin’ idiot had to know I was going to snap one of these days. He pushed too hard this time. Our customers could have been hurt by that shattering glass.”

  “I’m not disagreeing with you, and I guarantee that you’ll get your restraining order, and Elliot will be doing some time. I’ll talk to the judge. I’m just glad you’ve been keeping a tight record on how much he’s been bothering you.” He pulled into the driveway leading to the station. As he helped me out of the car, my hands bound behind me in the metal cuffs, he chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” I glared at him.

  “If I told you, you’d slap a harassment charge against me,” he said softly, and I knew he was thinking something I didn’t want to hear.

  I grunted. “In the mood I’m in, I probably would. You just keep your thoughts on Amy, okay?”

  “Whatever you say, Shifty. I’ve got to think of an appropriate nickname for you now. Maybe Sockeye, or Thinks With Fists?”

  I growled but said nothing. He was enjoying this all too much. As we headed toward the door, I asked, “How long do you think I’ll be in?”

  “If Miss Florence—or you—can post bail, then you should be home for supper.” He opened the door and escorted me in. The dispatcher’s expression went from blank to shocked. We knew each other, and she wasn’t used to seeing me in irons. Kyle led me to one of the desks in the main room, where he sat me down next to an officer I’d seen around but whose name I didn’t recognize.

  “This is Officer Shanna Reynolds. Why don’t you tell her everything that happened.” He glanced at the woman. “After you’re done taking her statement, process her. Be gentle, though, she’s a friend of mine.” He grinned once more before heading back out the door.

  “Well, damn,” I muttered under my breath. “Today’s pretty much been shot to hell.”

  Officer Reynolds gave me a thin smile and put a piece of paper in the typewriter. As her fingers moved over the keys, I told her exactly what had happened. She didn’t say much, but as she tapped away, I heard my name and looked up. Winthrop Winchester was making his way among the desks. Auntie’s lawyer—and mine—he was one of the best in the state. I glanced up at him as he stopped by my side.

  “I want a restraining order against Elliot now. If I don’t get it, I’m going to make certain he moves off this island.” I was dead serious. Elliot had crossed the line for the last time, and I wasn’t in any mood to give him another chance.

  Winthrop nodded. “I’m on it. How long till you’re done with her and we can bail her out?” he asked the officer.

  Shanna Reynolds gave him a veiled look. “Another half hour.”

  He gave me a long look. “I’ll get the ball started on the restraining order while you . . . finish your appointment here.”

  I behaved all the way through fingerprinting, which left a mess on my hands, and mug shots, which made me wish to hell I’d gotten more sleep the night before. If I had to have a picture taken that would last long after my death, then why couldn’t I have bothered with a little more makeup? Grumpy and tired despite the wonderful lunch I’d had, I finally found myself released into Winthrop’s waiting hands, not once seeing the inside of a jail cell.

  He kept his peace until we were outside, heading toward his car. “You little idiot! I can’t believe you did that,” he said. “You worried your aunt sick and gave yourself a nice little record. Why couldn’t you have just waited until the cops got there?” Blowing out a long sigh, he shook his head. “Don’t answer that. I know what your aunt calls you, and she’s right. You’re certainly more impetuous than is good for you.”

  We slipped into his car, and I leaned back against the headrest, reveling in the softness of the leather. Which reminded me, my car was now unusable until I got the windshield fixed.

  “What about Elliot? Did you get the order?”

  “Yes, it’s in the works and should be approved. Don’t you worry about him. Florence wants to sue his butt off in a civil suit for damages, and you can take him to court for harassment. By the time we’re done with that miserable loser, he’ll slink out of town and hopefully never come back.”

  “I don’t want his money,” I said. “I just want him to get out of my life for good. But I suppose he should pay for the car and the windows—that’s only fair.” I stared at my hands. The ink had stuck to my fingers, and they were now a delightful shade of purple-black.

  Winthrop glanced at me. “Don’t touch the upholstery, okay? It costs a bundle to remove ink stains.”

  I let out a long sigh. “Okay, okay. So where are you taking me?”

  “Home. Your auntie’s there, waiting for you. She left Tawny and Betsy in charge of the shop. Your friend Barbara stayed to help out.”

  Great. Now I’d inconvenienced everybody. I just hoped Elliot hurt like hell. I couldn’t help but relish the feeling of freedom that punching his lights out had given me. I’d been wanting to do that since he first showed up in Gull Harbor earlier this year, bent on making me miserable. I’d better enjoy it, I thought grimly, because Auntie was going to bite my head off.

  As we pulled into the driveway, I let out a long breath. “So, do you think I’ll end up in jail for this?”

  Winthrop snorted. “I hope we’ll be able to prevent that. By the time we get done laying out Elliot’s background and his current habit of harassment, we’ll have the judge on our side—and jury if need be. I might be able to convince him to drop charges, though.” He turned off the engine. I didn’t like the sound of this, because I knew what was coming. “If you go against your aunt’s wishes and avoid a civil lawsuit, he’ll probably jump at the offer to drop assault charges against you.”

  “But that’s not fair—” I sputtered.

  He waved away my protest. “Fairness has no place in justice. Trust me, I know. The fact is that he has no money, his job isn’
t worth squat, and he doesn’t have any assets. A lawsuit would only serve to soothe your ego; it wouldn’t do a damn thing otherwise except tie up the courts, cost you and your auntie a bundle, and take up time you could be spending on other, more interesting things.”

  I stared at him. He was serious. “But I want to pound Elliot into the ground so he can never bother me again!”

  Abruptly, I realized that I was on the verge of having a temper tantrum and squelched it. Winthrop and Auntie didn’t need me acting like a brat, although right now I felt about thirteen. Come to think of it, that was the year I’d gotten into my first fight after taking aikido for six months. Before that fight, I’d been picked on constantly. Afterward, nobody bothered me again. I’d sprained a boy’s wrist and broken two of his fingers. Luckily, there were witnesses to verify that it had been self-defense, but I hadn’t spared any feelings when he wouldn’t quit grabbing at my ass. I’d nailed the sucker.

  I raced up the steps, taking them two at a time, as Winthrop followed more sedately. As I opened the door, Beast came rushing up, happy to see me. He planted his feet against my shoulders and gave me a big lick with his floppy old tongue. I laughed for the first time since Elliot had gotten jiggy with the rocks and followed his hulking form into the kitchen.

  Auntie was fixing dinner. Or rather, arranging takeout on china. Yum, Peking duck, deep-fried prawns, pot stickers, and chicken fried rice. She looked up as I came into the kitchen and dropped the box of rice on the counter, rushing over to embrace me.

  “Oh, Imp, I was so worried! I called Winthrop the minute that Kyle took you away.” She pushed me back, staring at me.

  “Where’s Barb?” I asked, looking around.

  “She called to say she’d be here in an hour or two. She’s eating dinner out.” Auntie sighed and brushed a stray bang away from her face. “What the hell did you think you were doing? Elliot could have hurt you—he could have had a gun!”

  I shook my head. She was far more worried than she needed to be, but that was family for you. “I’m fine, Auntie, really. I didn’t even have time to see the inside of a cell before Winthrop showed up. Everything will be fine. And you know perfectly well that Elliot’s a wimp. By law, he can’t carry a gun, and I’m sure he’s too scared to touch one.”

  She sniffed, her mouth twisted in a worried frown. “Persia, I want to talk to you about that. I know you know how to shoot. As long as he’s on this island, I want you to buy a gun, and I want you to get a concealed weapons permit. Elliot’s gone over the edge. Maybe next time he won’t play fair. Maybe he’ll be sneakier.”

  Me? With a gun? I sat down, staring at the counter. On one hand, Auntie made a lot of sense, but could I be trusted with a weapon like that? I honestly couldn’t answer that myself, let alone trust somebody else to know.

  “Auntie,” I said softly, “that’s probably not the wisest move. Look at the way I went after Elliot. I know myself enough to know that I’m better off without one. I don’t want to get locked up for shooting somebody.”

  Winthrop cleared his throat and sat down at the table, opening his briefcase to bring out a sheaf of papers. “Persia’s right, Florence. Your niece is a wonderful young woman, but she’s got a hair-trigger temper, and I’d hate to see her end up in a situation she couldn’t get out of.”

  Auntie and I put dinner on the table, and I fetched another plate for Winthrop. As I took my seat, he raised one eyebrow. “So, have you made a decision about how we’ll proceed? Are you still insisting on suing Elliot? By all means prosecute him, but if you want my advice, you won’t take him to civil court.”

  “What are you talking about—” Auntie looked indignant.

  I interrupted. “He’s got a point, even if I don’t like to admit it.”

  Winthrop explained to her what he’d told me. Auntie grumbled, but she was a smart cookie, and she immediately saw his point of view. “I don’t like it, either, but Persia, I agree. Listen to Winthrop. We don’t need you chancing a court case that might land you in jail, even though you were provoked.”

  Feeling backed into a corner from all sides—including my common sense, which I wasn’t very happy about listening to at the moment—I gave Winthrop a nod. “See what you can do. Tell Elliot that if he drops charges, we won’t sue his butt off. But I want that restraining order, and I want to see him in jail.”

  Winthrop shuffled his papers and slipped them back in the briefcase. “You’re making the right decision, Persia. I know it doesn’t feel good, but trust me—I have waged so many lawsuits that I can’t even begin to count them, and at least half were a waste of time due to lack of assets on the defendant’s side. It would cost you far more than you’d ever win.”

  He accepted a plate from Auntie. Winthrop seldom stayed for dinner, but I knew he ate out a lot with clients. I wondered how his wife felt about him being gone so often. He never mentioned her, and neither did Auntie, but I assumed he had one. I’d seen a picture of a woman and children on his desk when I was in his office.

  My curiosity got the better of me. “Winthrop, are you married?”

  Auntie snorted wine out of her nose. “Ouch! Persia, you take the cake.”

  Winthrop answered, smooth as silk. “Why? Are you interested?” he asked, a smirk on his face that made the towering lawyer suddenly seem much more intimidating than usual.

  Red-faced, I rubbed my temples. “I just thought . . . we never hear about her, and I saw a picture on your desk—”

  He let out a belly laugh. “Mrs. Winchester took the children and left for France fifteen years ago. I keep the picture there because I love my children and am proud of them. I should put up a current one, but it always occurs to me when I’m not there to do it. The photo also reminds me never to take anyone at face value. Seemingly the epitome of propriety, my ex-wife was having an affair. When I found out and filed for divorce and custody, she fled the country with the children.”

  Shocked, I asked, “What happened to your kids?”

  “Since she was a good mother, rather than put my children through a horrendous court battle, I decided to give her primary custody with the stipulation that I see them for a month every year. They’re grown now, and two have returned to the States. They visit me quite often, actually. My other daughter stayed in France with her mother. I haven’t seen her in five years, and she never writes or calls.” He looked wistful, as if he’d missed out on the best part of his life. In a way, I suppose he had.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “No apologies necessary. It was long ago, and life moves on. Now, back to your situation. We should have the restraining order by tomorrow. I’ll pay a visit to Elliot and make sure he knows what he’s facing. I’ll impress upon him that if you file a civil suit against him, he’ll be in debt to you for years.”

  “What about the vandalism?”

  “He probably won’t spend much time in jail for that, but with the restraining order, if he starts stalking you again, then we can go after him under the antistalking laws. I’ll make sure he knows what the penalties for those are, try to nip any thoughts of that sort of behavior in the bud.”

  We ate our dinner. Auntie and Winthrop carried on a lively conversation while I sat deep in thought. The excitement of the afternoon had distracted me from Lisa’s disappearance, but with the coming of nightfall, I couldn’t help but wonder where she was. Was she alive? Hurt somewhere and unable to call for help? It was cold out. If she had taken a tumble into a ravine or gotten caught in some wooded area, she wouldn’t be able to survive many more nights like we were having.

  The ring of the phone broke through my thoughts, and I motioned to Auntie that I’d get it. Heddy Latherton was on the line, and I cringed. Even though I wanted to ask her about Lisa, I dreaded wading through the mire of gossip and chitchat to get there. Unfortunately, my reputation had preceded me, and Heddy was full of questions about my infamous afternoon.

  “Oh Persia, I heard you were arrested for b
eating up your ex-boyfriend! Are you okay? I heard that you took quite a pummeling from him. He hit you with a rock or something? I can’t imagine why Kyle would arrest you for fighting back in self-defense.” She paused to catch her breath.

  Grabbing the opportunity, I set the record straight. “No, Heddy, he didn’t hit me with a rock. He broke one of the big windows at Venus Envy, and he also smashed my car’s windshield. I lost my temper and broke his nose.”

  She gasped. “You’re so brave! I’d have been terrified to do such a thing. Your aunt is a lucky woman to have such a brave niece.”

  Ever since Auntie and I’d staged a falling-out to allow me to dig up evidence at Bebe Wilcox’s, Heddy had inexplicably become my champion and friend. Auntie couldn’t stand her, and I had a feeling the sentiment was mutual, but Heddy stood up for me and had taken me into her more than ample bosom.

  I wasn’t sure I liked the honor; it meant I had to listen to her gab on and on, but it also meant that she still steered business our way, and she was always first stop on the grapevine if you wanted to hear the latest rumors making the rounds.

  “Heddy, I have something I need to ask you, and I’d appreciate it if you’d think really hard about your answer. This is important.” I let my voice linger over the last word. Heddy loved to be included in anything that might remotely be earthshaking.

  She caught her breath. “Of course, Persia. You know I’m only too happy to help. What do you want to know?”

  “You came to Lisa for a facial on Friday morning, right?”

  “Yes, that’s right. I come in every week on Friday.”

  “Did Lisa say anything about where she might be going or what she might be planning for the weekend? Anything that seemed out of the ordinary?”

  The seconds on the clock ticked by as Heddy ruminated on the question. After a moment, she said, “Well, she did mention that she was thinking of looking for a job in Seattle if things slowed down after the holidays. Is that any help?”