“Hey. Do we know anyone who works at the hospital?” She snorted.
“Girl, between the two of us, we probably know everyone who works at the hospital. Why?”
“Something weird is going on and I feel the need to investigate.”
“Weird like what? This isn’t like the time we had to go spy on Dr. Ellison’s vet clinic because you thought he was mistreating the animals, is it?” she asked, not derisively, but with definitive skepticism.
“Fae Lynn, we were twelve! And that was totally Cash’s fault. He told me they were killing cats.”
“They were,” she retorted. “The terminally ill kind. One more reason Cash has earned his reputation of being...well, Cash.” I ignored her and went on.
“Anyway. Two different clients have two different problems that I think may be connected to each other and the hospital. And since everyone in town thinks a law degree means I’m Nancy Drew, I guess I’ll have to try to live up to expectations.”
“You have a real problem, you know that, Lil?” I sensed where this was going and bit back urging her to bite me. “If you weren’t such a damn people-pleaser, you’d have less of a problem telling them no.” My resistance failed me.
“Bite me, Fae Lynn, you know as well as I do, that if anyone asked you to do something for them, you’d come running, whether it was legal or not,” I shot at her and sensed her softening.
“Kiss it,” she told me without any force. “Is this something you want to discuss before we jump in?” I smiled triumphantly into the phone.
“Actually, yes. Do you want to come by the office after you get off, and we can go get an iced tea at Tally’s?”
“I’m not paying Tally for her overpriced tea, when the stuff I packed in my jug is just as good,” she informed me. “You’ve got glasses and ice, right?”
“Yeah.” What office worth its rent wouldn’t have the requirements for a big glass of sweet tea? Mama and Nonnie had made sure when I moved in that I’d had big tumblers and a working fridge in the break room of the building.
“I’ll bring the tea, you provide the info. I’ll try to think of someone we could go talk to. Besides Cash, I’m assuming?”
“Correct assumption. See you around four-thirty.”
“Or before if I can’t stand the suspense.” I’d probably see her at three. She’d have no qualms whatsoever about walking out the door and waving to the rest of the dispatchers. Like they’d try to stop her. I was actually pretty surprised she hadn’t just up and walked the two blocks from the courthouse to my office. I resumed my email to Amber, a feeling of relief easing the knots in my neck. Fae Lynn was excellent at coming up with a plan.
While I wrote and avoided thoughts of dead bodies, every once in a while, I’d reach up and fiddle with my hair, wondering if it had really been such a good idea to let Barbie go scissor-happy. The bell jangled and I sighed. I wasn’t really in the mood to deal with the impending, sure to be disaster that was Cash Stetson. I hoped like hell it wasn’t him, but the secretary Daddy’d promised still hadn’t shown. At this point, even Nonnie and her useless chatter would be a welcome distraction compared to Cash. I continued to stare down at my desk, lost in a state of semi-incoherence, until a decidedly male silhouette filled the doorway. I mean, really? Didn’t Cash have a job?
“What’n the hell’d you do to your hair?” A gruff male voice filled my office. I sprung out of my chair.
“Charlie!” I ran around my desk and attempted to wrap my arms around his burly mass. This was the legendary uncle of the annoyingly perfect Yankified lawyer who’d done a hit and run to my favorite sheath dress. As earlier mentioned, Charlie had been the first of the courthouse attorneys to spot me in one of his courtrooms. At twelve, he’d put me to work making copies and affixing postage. During undergrad summers, I’d worked as an intern. Charlie was fully convinced it had given me a leg up and was the only reason I’d gotten into SMU. He was extremely ticked when I’d spent law school summers interning at fancy Dallas firms instead of coming home do to civil domestic disputes for him. I had not informed him I was coming home; I hadn’t informed him when I’d gotten here; I sure wasn’t brave enough to ask him for a job. Truth be told, I was a little ashamed. Charlie was my unappointed mentor and legal aspiration. He lived the law and wouldn’t be too happy about the fact that I’d abandoned the practice I’d built up to come flail around in his pond. I was a little surprised it had taken him this long to come find me.
Charlie was endearingly inappropriate. He had a full head of silver hair, a thick caterpillar-like mustache, and his pants were always falling down. He purposefully kept his office personnel head count below the federal standard so he wouldn’t have to adhere to federal law regarding employees and the probability of a sexual harassment case. He probably made at least seventeen sexually harassing remarks a day. I know because once I’d counted. He’d finally decided I was off limits when I went off on him loudly and verbally in front of the courthouse after he’d called me a Playboy bunny lookalike, which I am not. Bless his heart, I hurt his feelings with my tirade more than he’d ever insulted me. He felt so bad he’d bought me a computer. We compromised by him towing the line, just not stepping over it. I took what I would and raised my eyebrow his way when I wouldn’t. I loved Charlie. He and his wife, Annabelle, were two of my favorite people. Come to think of it, I hadn’t received a lecture from her either, which was strange.
“You look like a damn supermodel. It’s not lawyerly at all.” He reached up to mess with my hair. I batted his hand away.
“Barbie said I needed a pick me up.”
“Barbie cuts the hair of half the hookers in town.”
“Be nice.” I rolled my eyes. “Do you want coffee?”
“No.” He moved to sit behind my desk, and I rolled my eyes a second time, grabbed my own mug and one of the wing chairs in front of my desk.
“To what do I owe this visit, Mr. Locke?”
“I came to give you the lecture I’m sure you’ve been anticipating, kid.” I leaned back and sighed.
“Bring it on.”
“I actually changed my mind on the way over and just decided to say I told you so and leave it at that.” Charlie had met Van at Christmas breaks. He couldn’t stand him. I always thought partly because Charlie didn’t really like anyone who didn’t defer. It was the one time I ignored Charlie’s judgment on a person’s character. Obviously, not my best decision. You do enough divorces and you become an armchair psychologist real quick. His discernment skills were top notch.
“Thanks, although that was actually the first thing that came to mind, so it was superfluous of you to come over.”
“I’m not sure how to feel about me being the first thing you think about when you catch your fiancé screwing his secretary, but oh well.” He winked. Insert third eye roll.
“Thanks.” He nodded and stood to go. Charlie Locke, a man of few words.
“Do you need anything?” No. Yes. Of course. My stutter thought did not go unnoticed and he nodded.
“I’ve got a few cases that are chump change. I’ll send them your way. Just don’t screw them up.” I hugged him again before he could get away and smelled the overly fashionable Burberry cologne Annabelle bought for him. I took a great big whiff and almost cried. Dang, it was good to be home. He extricated himself from my grip.
“Don’t go getting soft on me, kid. No time for that. You’ll be fine, just remember what I taught you and throw yourself into your work; this will all be like a bad dream.” He tipped his hat at me and walked toward the door, grabbing his unnecessary cane on the way out. He turned back.
“Have you met my newest associate?”
“Uh, kind of. Actually, he…” I started as a tornado flew through the door.
“Holy shit, sister! You are never gonna believe this. Have you heard? I’m surprised your phone’s not ringing off the hook. Do you even have it turned on? That’s just like you to get distracted.” Tally rambled as she crossed over to my
desk to search for my phone. She was decked out in a denim miniskirt and turquoise pointy-toed cowboy boots, complete with a low black tank top to show off her boobs. The pearls were hidden underneath a cloud of hair, and her already too-lush mouth was glossed up with diva red.
“Charlie!” She squealed, spotting him.
“Well, hello sweetheart,” Charlie drawled, openly leering. He and Tally had a different relationship. She had no qualms about being told she was a Playboy bunny look alike. Well, because she kind of was, at least a Victoria’s Secret model.
“Tally, what did you storm in here to tell me?” I asked.
“Oh,” she exclaimed, stricken, looking first at Charlie and then back at me. “Someone shot Cash.”
Chapter Fifteen
Someone tried to kill Cash. In retrospect, it was probably more of a death threat than an actual attempt. The shot was wide, way wide. With all the rednecks around here, I was leaning toward the shooter making a statement, but I’m no detective.
Everyone had converged on my office for some unknown reason. There was a hell of a whole lot of chaos going on. The police, Cash, and his parents were there, along with mine. Charlie hadn’t moved and Nonnie had shown up for the party as well.
Sheriff Clay and his two cohorts in black were taking statements while I filled glasses with Tally. We’d gone to high school with the two officers, and one had had a major crush on me, a crush that had gotten me out of several speeding tickets whenever I came home to visit. Danny was a cutie, but he had several teeth missing and his family tree didn’t fork quite right. He was a definite Bubba, bless his heart. The other officer taking statements was a barroom-haired, manly-woman who’d disliked me slightly less than Tina, but I wasn’t wholly sure why.
I tried to focus. Cash was sitting in my chair, looking grey around the edges and chalky in the middle. He caught me looking at him and smiled shakily. I made my way over to him.
“What happened?” I asked without prefacing my question.
“We were having a ribbon-cutting ceremony to open up a new wing at the hospital and someone in the crowd started firing.”
“You’re sure they were aiming at you?” He turned his head to the left, revealing a nick at the top of his right ear, a trail of dried blood tucking into his starched, white shirt collar.
“Someone’s either a good shot, or a very bad one,” he joked. I wasn’t interested in his levity. I was trying to maintain my professionalism. It was hard. He looked like he needed a hug. And it was never just a hug with me and Cash.
“Who do you think it was?” I asked. Scotty should sign me up. Cash sighed, reaching up to unconsciously rub his fingertips over the tip of his injured ear.
“I don’t know. I need some tea.” He moved to get up and go around me, avoiding any more speculative conversation with me. Mama came up behind me with more information.
“What do you know?”
“Cash was making a speech when it happened. The shot was very wide. Odd. I’d say it was Tina, but she’s not to be found.”
“Were you there?” I asked her.
“Yes. Both your father and I were. We donated a chunk to the new wing.”
“You didn’t see anything?”
“No. It came from behind us, and higher up, because everyone up front was on a mini-stage, and it didn’t look like it came from an angle, the way Cash reacted.” I was wide-eyed at my mother’s astute observations. Scotty should sign her up.
“Did you tell Sheriff Clay that?”
“Of course I did, although he was much more interested in your father’s version, which didn’t include all the details. Because you’ve met your father.” I nodded at that. My dad’s a forest guy.
“They’re sure it was meant for Cash? Who was standing next to him?”
“No one right then, he was up at the podium and everyone else was sitting down.”
“Anyone oppose the new wing for any reason? Someone mad because they didn’t name it after somebody’s dead uncle?” My mom gave me a look.
“They named it after Janelle Simcox’s mother. She was the librarian at the public library for fifty years. No one’s going to question that.”
“Well who else is mad at Cash?”
“No one, recently,” Mama said. “Back in his heyday, there would have been plenty of brothers, daddies, or mamas itching to teach him a lesson. He’s done so much at the hospital to change his reputation enough that no one wants to actually kill him anymore.”
“Then we’re back to Tina.”
“Maybe, but Tina’s not about making statements. She’s about action. If she wanted him dead, she’d have just killed him and been done with it.”
“True,” I conceded.
“Who did Cash think it was?” Mama asked.
“He didn’t want to talk about it,” I told her with a twist of my mouth. Mama pursed hers. Sheriff Clay and Daddy made their way over.
“I think we’ve taken all the statements we need,” Sheriff Clay announced. “Cash, son, we’ll be in touch as soon as we know something, if anything.”
“Thanks, Clay,” Cash answered, standing and shaking the sheriff’s hand. Charlie, Cash’s father, Daddy, and Sheriff Clay walked out of my office, discussing the incident. The sheriff’s deputies trailed behind.
Behind me, I heard my mother make a decision. Never one to waste a good crisis, or to avoid taking care of someone, she addressed the crowd. “I think this calls for some home cooking. Cash, you look like you could use some of my world famous double-coated fried chicken. We’ll get mom to make some potatoes and biscuits, and maybe we can talk Lilly into making a pie?” Mama stated, turning to me and nodding. I nodded back, mute and torn between labeling my mom a traitor and hugging her.
“Thank you, I could use some of your fried chicken,” Cash answered, grateful written plain on his face. I did an inward grimace. The last time Cash had been eating my Mama’s fried chicken he’d been dating me and doing Tina.
Jan, Cash’s mother, was nodding in agreement with Mama, offering to bring the sweet tea and green beans. Oh man. I hoped Tina didn’t try to shoot Cash. If she was wielding a gun, she’d be aiming it my way for sure. Everyone filed out but Charlie, who had stood, sipping something strong from a tumbler that had not come from my drink supply and watching the show.
“Don’t get involved.” He took a strong quaff and set the crystal down on my desk.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I lied. He offered his first eye roll of the day.
“You do, Counselor Atkins, and you’d do well to remember those oaths you took before the supreme courts of Texas and Oklahoma.” I watched him shift his bulk around and hitch up his pants. “If Cash Stetson had died today, the culprit might just have justified cause.” I felt my hackles start to rise. Charlie never made light of the law.
“What do you know that I don’t?”
“Nothing worth sharing that you don’t know already.” He walked out before I could interpret the twisted words. I sighed and grabbed my Coach to get pie ingredients.
xxx
After everyone had converged on Nonnie’s house and stuffed themselves with fried chicken, biscuits, and mashed potatoes and gravy, I dished up a fresh-from-the-oven peach pie. I’d also gone against my better judgment and made an extra apple pie. Apple was Cash’s favorite. Call me a glutton for stupid decisions, but the man had gotten shot at today. I’d gone into the kitchen to get an extra dessert fork and was standing over the stove where I’d left the other pie, looking at it like it was a crystal ball.
“Is that apple?” Cash had snuck up behind me and was eyeing the pie hungrily. Startled, I backed up against him, the heat from the oven fusing with the heat that accompanied me whenever I touched Cash, accidental or otherwise.
“Uh, uh, yeah. Uh huh.” I twisted away from him and held out the pie scoop as a weapon. He smiled at me.
“Is that for me?” He asked, already knowing the answer. The thing about Cash is, he knows me better than anyone
ever has, but at the same time, he doesn’t know me at all. If that makes sense. I sighed and waved the scoop at him, feeling cramped in my Nonnie’s overheated, cloying kitchen.
“Yes,” I bit out defensively. “But only because the store didn’t have enough peaches for another one, and there were going to be lots of people here.” I explained irritably. A younger Cash would have disputed me and attempted to prove himself right and get under my skin and have me either stomping out of the room or attacking him with my lips. This older Cash had learned a few things while I’d been gone. He ignored my stuttering and smiled sincerely at me.
“Thanks,” he said simply. Reaching out and taking away the kitchen utensil I was still wielding, he regarded me with question. “Do you want to get out of here?” he asked, cocking his head toward the din of the buzz in the next room.
“Yes. No… No.” He looked at me patiently.
I wanted to leave. I wanted to leave with him. I shouldn’t. Definitely not with him. Married, dangerous, and always charming were all bad ideas. But I wanted to talk to him. Alone. Surely I had enough will-power to withstand a private conversation with Cash. I didn’t. I wanted to. But I didn’t. Which is probably half of why I wanted to go. “No,” I repeated. “Yeah,” I finally nodded. Old habits never die; they just get harder to justify.
He nodded back and ripped a few paper towels off the roll and dug through the silverware drawer to pull out two forks. It worried me that it didn’t necessarily irk me that he knew exactly where the silverware drawer was. He winked at me as I stood and watched, and then grabbed the pie and my arm and dragged me out the back door, waving in the general direction of the dining room as we snuck out.
I was met by six foot of bullish, pit-bull bodyguard when I set foot on Nonnie’s front porch. Apparently my weak habits weren’t old enough to be forgotten.
Home Is Where Your Boots Are Page 8