“Probably not,” I answered. “Do you think criminal attorneys are responsible for their clients’ crimes?” I looked down at the plate in front of me. The eggs were cooked just the way I like them: fluffy, with a lot of fresh ground pepper. I reached for the fork he’d set down on the table. “Law firms decide who they represent and who they don’t. If they had a problem with the morality of this situation, it was then they should have made the decision. All this does is show what a rotten piece of work Kelton Kingston is. He’s even a worse human being than we expected.”
“But,” Greg argued, “if he paid someone to cover up the facts of the accident, that’s fraud, isn’t it?”
“It’s certainly something.” I dug into the eggs. I didn’t think I had much of an appetite, but as soon as they touched my tongue I became ravenous and shoved them in, along with the toast, while Greg cleaned up the kitchen. When I was done, I started to get up from the table.
“What do you need, Odelia?” Greg asked as he rolled over to get my dirty plate. “I can get whatever you need.”
“What I need is to get dressed if Steele will be here any minute.” I shuffled into the bedroom. I had stiffened up again, but moving my bruised legs helped them feel better.
After hearing everything, Steele pretty much told us what I’d told Greg earlier. He had no idea about the work the firm had done for Kingston thirty years ago but said it was still covered by attorney-client privilege. “And that means for you too, Grey,” Steele warned. “You’re still an employee of the firm and cannot speak of this to anyone. Do you understand?”
I nodded. We were in our living room. Steele was dressed for the office but had left his suit jacket in his car. He turned to Greg. “That means you too, Greg. Odelia should not have told you this, but since she did, you need to keep your trap shut too. Saying anything implicates Odelia in a breach of confidentiality.”
“But this is immoral,” Greg protested. “Don’t you agree?”
I could tell Steele wanted to say something other than what I knew was coming. “It doesn’t matter what I think personally,” Steele said. Yep, that’s what I expected him to say, especially in front of Greg. “I’m an attorney of T&T,” Steele continued, “and therefore one of Kingston’s attorneys, even though I don’t work with him and his companies directly.”
“Then what good are you, Mike?” Greg shouted.
Whoa!
Steele straightened up in his seat on the sofa, and his handsome face grew hard. “I’m going to let that pass, Greg, because we’re friends and because I know you didn’t mean to say it. You’re upset by everything that has happened in the past few days, and you’re worried about Odelia.”
“Speaking of which,” I said, trying to join the party, “what’s happening with my job?”
Greg was rolling back and forth in his wheelchair, clearly agitated. Muffin and Wainwright watched from Wainwright’s bed like spectators at a tennis match. “I’ll tell you what’s going on with your job, Odelia,” Greg said, his voice harsh but low. “There’s no way in hell I’d let you go back to that place, not even to work for Mike. They’ve treated you like shit since this all began. And now this. I don’t want you working anywhere that has any connection with Kelton Kingston. You deserve better.” He looked up at Steele. “And so do you, Mike.” He rolled back and forth again.
Steele stood up. “To answer your question, Odelia, nothing has been decided about your job yet. The partners are still hoping this will all blow over and Kingston will forget about you, and you can return to work unnoticed.”
I looked at my boss, then at my husband. In spite of his rage, I knew when it came down to it, Greg would not stand in my way if I decided to return to T&T. He wouldn’t be happy about it, but he also wasn’t the type of husband to order his wife around. I looked back at Steele and hugged my bad arm to my side. “Steele, I don’t know how I feel right now. I really like my job, but, like Greg, I’m upset about the firm being in bed with this horror show of a human being. I’m sure we have many clients that skirt the edge, but this, if it’s true, is really heinous. Do I need to make up my mind right this minute?” I looked at the two of them, one then the other.
Greg didn’t say anything, and I knew we’d be discussing this later. Steele gave me a weak smile. “Of course not, Grey. But know you are missed. By all of us.”
He looked up from me and his eye caught on something. I followed his gaze. He’d noticed the notes spread out on the kitchen table. Our home has a very open floor plan for Greg’s convenience. From the living room you can see most of the dining area and part of the kitchen, except for the bit hidden by a common wall. Steele walked over to the table and looked down at the notes, studying them. I was really glad we hadn’t put down a sticker with T&T on it under Marla’s column. I’d thought about it.
Greg and I joined him at the table. “I suppose you’re going to say we can’t look into the murder that took place at my shop on Monday,” Greg challenged.
Steele turned and looked at Greg. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Greg,” he said with a slow smile. “All I see is a jigsaw puzzle. Lots of people enjoy working them.”
Steele bent down and kissed me lightly on the cheek, something he’d only done a few times before in all our years of working together. One of those times had been on my wedding day. Another time was on his. This time it felt like goodbye.
Next, Steele held out his right hand to Greg. Greg eyed it, then took it, and the two men shook. “I would be very troubled if this changed our friendship, Greg.”
“So would I, Mike,” Greg said in agreement. “So would I.”
twenty-one
When Greg finally went to work, he decided to leave Wainwright behind to keep me company. He was still agitated from our meeting with Steele, so I was happy to have Greg gone for a few hours. Wainwright, on the other hand, was clearly depressed by the turn of events. Going to work with Greg was his job, and he was one employee who never asked for vacation time.
My whole body was very sore from the fall, in spite of there being no other major injuries beyond my left shoulder. It really did feel like I had been in a car accident, where the muscle pain was worse the next day from all the jarring and jerking. Greg told me to spend the day relaxing. He made our bed before leaving, a chore that was usually mine. Before leaving, he set my laptop up on the end of the kitchen table so I wouldn’t have to do it, and he made sure I had enough iced tea and lunch fixings handy. Even in his surly mood he was considerate and concerned. It was almost to the point of suffocating. Loving, but suffocating.
My cell phone rang. It was Mom. We talked a few minutes, but I didn’t tell her about my fall. She would be home this weekend and I could fill her in then. Greg and I also decided this morning not to tell Clark because he’d just tell Mom. The two of them were worse than a couple of gossips in a hair salon when it came to family. Mom wanted to know if I’d found out anything about Burt yet and if I had any word about my job. I told her no on both, which was easy to slip past her because neither was a lie. Then she filled me in on the drama of the seniors’ trip and signed off, saying she was heading to a hot bingo game.
I was barely off the phone when Zee showed up on my doorstep with a casserole dish of her incredible chicken and dumplings. “This is for your dinner tonight,” she said, taking the dish to the kitchen and slipping it into my fridge. Wainwright, tail wagging, followed her. I wasn’t going to argue with her generosity. Her chicken and dumplings was one of my favorite things.
“I called Greg this morning to see how you were doing,” she said when she joined me. I had planted myself into one of our recliners, my feet up, a carafe of iced tea and the TV remote by my side. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t still in bed,” Zee continued as she took a seat on the sofa near me. Wainwright, realizing no chicken was in his immediate future, went to his bed. Muffin was MIA. “Although I should have thoug
ht about you having to get up and down to answer the door—I’m very sorry.”
“Don’t be, Zee,” I told her. “As much as it hurts, I’m finding it helps my overall body aches to move about periodically. It lessens the stiffness, even if does hurt like hell when I first try to move. The shoulder just needs time.” I laughed. “You should see the bruise on my left thigh. It’s as big as a dinner plate. If I was wearing shorts, I could show it to you.”
“Are you taking anything for the pain?” she asked. “Greg said they gave you pain pills.”
“They did, but I don’t like those things. They make me loopy. I took some ibuprofen a little while ago, and it’s starting to kick in.”
“Well, don’t be a hero, Odelia,” Zee admonished. “If you’re in pain, take one of the painkillers and take a nap.” She fussed with her pale yellow blouse. “I also wanted to speak with you about something—something you may or may not like.”
Now I was really glad I hadn’t taken those painkillers. I shifted in the recliner and held my breath when aches ricocheted up and down my body. “That sounds ominous.”
“After you called and said you couldn’t make the trip back to the mailbox place,” she began, “I went anyway.”
“What? Zee, no, you shouldn’t have,” I protested.
“Why not?” She stuck out her chin in defiance. “If I hadn’t insisted on tagging along, you would have gone alone—at least if you hadn’t taken that spill.”
I couldn’t argue with that. “So did you meet her?” I asked instead. Remembering my manners, I also asked, “Would you like some iced tea or something?”
“Don’t worry about me, Odelia,” she said with a smile. “I know your home almost as well as my own. I’ll get something if I want it. You sit still.”
“So,” I prodded. “What happened with Holly?”
“She seems like a very nice young woman, but somewhat tragic,” Zee reported. “Then again, her mother recently passed. Like the boy in the mailbox store said, she’s quite pretty, petite with long black hair. I didn’t see her eyes because she was wearing large sunglasses. Oh, and she drives one of those cute little Mini Coopers.”
“Did you actually speak with her?”
Zee nodded. “I did. I was very nervous at first but realized she was going to get away if I didn’t move on her. So I got out of my car and kind of ambushed her as she was leaving the store.”
“Ambushed?” I asked in amazement. Zenobia Washington was not the ambushing type. I was, but not her. She was too polite.
Zee nodded. “Yes, I actually stood between her and her car so she couldn’t leave until we had a word.”
I nearly laughed out loud picturing the short, stocky Zee standing in the way of a lithe millennial. My money would have been on Zee. “I’ll bet you played the mom card,” I said with a chuckle.
Zee smiled. “Of course. It’s the only weapon I have. I just looked that girl in the eye and pretended she was one of my own. I needed answers and wasn’t going away without them.”
“And?”
“I told her who I was and that you and Greg needed to speak with her. That it was very important and you meant her no harm.”
“And did she say she’d get in touch with us?”
Zee fussed again with her blouse, plucking at an imaginary piece of lint from the front. “Not exactly. She threatened to call the police if I didn’t get out of her way.” Zee looked up, her eyes wide. “She even got out her cell phone and started counting down.”
I was really laughing now. “But I thought you said she seemed like a nice but tragic young woman.”
“She is,” Zee said, sticking to her assessment. “I mean, she didn’t swear at me or give me the finger. Some young people would have done that without a second thought. And she did give me time to move out of her way, which I did.” She paused. “But not without insisting that she call you. Then, as she was getting into her car, I blurted out that we’d met Jordon West.”
“You didn’t?” I was sitting straight now and not caring about my aches and pains.
“I did,” Zee said. “I don’t know what came over me, Odelia. It just sort of popped out, like a last-ditch effort. She stopped and I thought she was going to talk to me after all, but instead it was just a long pause. Then she got into her car, slammed the door, and drove off.”
“Sounds like you’re lucky she didn’t run over you.” I hesitated, then added, “By the way, can I ask a favor of you?”
Zee looked surprised. “You can ask me anything—you know that.”
I screwed up my mouth, not in pain but embarrassment. “Would you help me put on a bra before you leave? Nothing hardwired, just one of my soft sports bras. I think my girls would be happier with a little support.”
“What are best friends for?” she said with a big grin.
Shortly after Zee left, I took her advice and took a nap. I still didn’t take a painkiller. I crawled on top of our made bed with my Kindle, intending to read, but was out like a light before I’d gotten through one page.
I woke two hours later to find Muffin curled up next to me and Wainwright in his spot on the floor at the end of the bed. I went through the now-common ritual of moving slowly, willing myself to keep everything functioning in spite of the pain. After a trip to the bathroom, which was taking much longer now, I decided to get out of the house. The weather had cooled and I wanted to take advantage of it. Even if I had to shuffle down the street, I wanted to walk to the beach. I felt it might clear my head and be good for my battered soul.
Wainwright wanted to walk faster than I was capable, but after a few tugs on the leash, he understood that we were not moving beyond a snail’s pace. As soon as we got there, I plopped down on a bench, thankful one was open. I was exhausted, and my legs and hips hurt. I was seriously thinking I might have to call Uber to take me the two blocks back home when I was ready to go.
Wainwright was thrilled to be at the beach. He loves his morning walks and had missed a couple this week. The bench was located on a grassy hill above the actual beach. I let him off his leash, which was a no-no, but everyone knows Wainwright and turns a blind eye to our rules transgression. The dog nosed around and marked his territory before settling down on the grass by my feet. I’d worn a visor and sunglasses against the brightness of the sun, and I had slathered on some sun block before leaving home. It was about four in the afternoon, but the sun was still strong. I’d brought a lightweight cross-body tote in which to stash one of Wainwright’s portable water dishes, a few doggie treats, and two bottles of water, along with my Kindle. I’d settled the strap on my left side, close to my neck so it wouldn’t rest on my injured shoulder joint. I needed my one useful hand to hold the leash.
Wainwright’s low growl immediately snapped me to attention. I must have dozed off in the sun. Startled, I pushed the brim of my visor back and looked to see what had put the dog on alert. He was standing in front of me, his flank against my legs, looking to my right. I knew the low growl was meant as a warning to whoever was there not to approach. The faithful animal was guarding me against strangers.
A young woman was standing a few feet away from my bench. She had long black hair and large sunglasses that covered most of the top half of her face, making the bottom half look almost childlike. In spite of it being summer and warm, she wore black jeans and a black short-sleeved T-shirt and carried a messenger bag slung over her shoulder. I noticed a couple of small tattoos on her arms. She looked unsure of what to do—stay or flee. Her hands were palms out and up about waist high, ready to protect herself against the dog.
I quieted Wainwright. He stopped growling and sat down but remained in front of me with his eyes on the stranger. “Can I help you?” I asked her.
It took her a moment to find her voice. “Are you Odelia Grey?”
I nodded and laughed. “Are you here to serve me legal papers of som
e kind?” But it really wasn’t a joke, considering all the snooping I’d been doing in the past few days.
“No, of course not,” she said, surprised. “Why would you even think that?” She was obviously someone who didn’t know me.
I patted the dog, letting him know he could relax, and thought about who this young woman might be and probably was. “Are you Holly West?” I asked.
“Why do you ask?” she countered. “Are you going to serve me with a subpoena or something?” A slow smile crossed her lips briefly. It was then I knew I might like Holly West once I got to know her. She was quick, had a sly sense of humor, and she didn’t swear at my best friend when stalked by her.
“How did you find me?” I asked, patting the vacant section of the bench next to me.
“I think the question is, how did you find me?” She eyed Wainwright with caution, making no move to sit.
“Don’t worry,” I told her. “Wainwright won’t hurt you unless you try to hurt me. Otherwise, he’s a big teddy bear.”
Taking me at my word, Holly sat down on the other half of the bench. As soon as she did, Wainwright made a slow move to sniff her. She edged back, then relaxed and let him get a snoot of her scent. He sniffed her arms and hands as they lay still in her lap. His tongue shot out and licked a hand, which startled her, then she laughed softly. “He really is sweet.”
“You have been Wainwright approved,” I told her. “Scratch him behind his ears and you’ll have a friend for life.” Slowly she moved her hand to the dog’s head and started patting him, then scratched him behind his ears. The dog’s tail wagged.
“If you’ve been following Greg,” I said, opening the conversation to the important stuff, “then you’ve seen Wainwright before.”
She didn’t deny my comment, nor did she answer it. Instead, she said, “Your friend Zee is quite persuasive.”
Tit for tat.
“Really?” I turned to face her. Holly kept her face forward, her eyes on the gorgeous ocean view in front of us. “According to her, you didn’t say a word except to threaten to call the police. And I know she didn’t give you my address, so how did you find me today? You tell me your methods, I’ll tell you mine.”
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