Earth to Emily

by Pamela Fagan Hutchins

  Nadine jumped to her feet, all her best parts jostling each other as they rearranged themselves.

  Clyde stopped, his rheumy eyes wide as he studied her. “Well, aren’t you a fine-looking woman.” He inclined his head at her, his version of a courtly bow—I knew from experience.

  “Nadine, Clyde is the founder of Williams and Associates.”

  She smiled wide. Nadine had an incredible smile, with sparkly teeth from here to Dallas and back. “Thank you. So pleased to meet you, sir.”

  Clyde waved at her to sit, and she did, which he took the time to watch and appreciate before he resumed his walk. All told, he made it from the door to the chair in front of my desk in three minutes flat, a record for him. I suspected he was trying to impress Nadine. He put his hand on the back of the chair.

  “What can I do for you, Clyde?”

  “Jack called me for a consult. Is he around?”

  “No, but he won’t be long. Do you want to wait? If so, I’ll let him know you’re here.”

  “If you don’t mind, dear.” He hung his cane on the arm of the chair and positioned himself in front of it in tiny sidesteps. He put both hands behind him to catch the arms and began to lower himself, slowly, slowly. I couldn’t breathe during this process. Jack wouldn’t let me help Clyde, but that didn’t mean I didn’t worry and wish I could. I’d hate for him to break a hip on my watch. Clyde’s hands gripped the chair’s arms on his descent, arresting his fall. He settled in, and I resumed normal respiration.

  Clyde turned to Nadine to flirt and I returned to my desk and typed an email to my boss:

  Clyde here!!! Says you called for consult. He’s waiting for you in front of my desk. Hurry? J

  The front door to the office whooshed open for visitor number four. If this kept up, I’d have to start charging admission. Or lock the door and hide in Jack’s office, so I could get something done. I hit send and looked up. Phil Escalante, one of our clients, was taking off his jacket by the doorway.

  “Phil! Come on in. We’re having a pre-Christmas get-together.”

  Phil grinned. “I forgot my fruitcake. You sure I’m welcome?” Phil wasn’t a tall guy, but he made up for size in big personality and a lot of muscle. Not that there wasn’t a goodly layer of insulation to his bulk, too, thanks to the fact that he approached everything in his life with gusto. Food, laughter, women, and booze. In fact, his trouble with the law related back to his enthusiasms. He ran a private swingers’ club. It had attracted the ire of a militant religious group who’d started harassing them outside their events. Phil had broken into the home of the group’s leader, looking for information to help fend them off, but he’d been caught, and charged with B&E and attempted burglary.

  I gestured at my fruit basket. “I’ve got you covered.”

  Nadine stood again, and something about the way she moved caught my eye. She rubbed her lips together, then they fell apart slightly. She rolled her shoulders back, which did something magical to her chest, apparently, because Clyde nearly fell out of his chair, and Phil’s attention moved from me to her in a flash of lightning. He froze for a full five seconds without breathing.

  I broke the spell. “Phil, this is Nadine. Nadine, our client, Phil.”

  Phil moved to Nadine. She towered over him, although he was a good half a foot taller than Clyde. “So that’s your name. Nadine.” He took her hand, not like a handshake, like a caress. His hand dwarfed hers. My mouth fell open, and I gawked.

  She smiled, but didn’t. Like Mona Lisa. “Hello, Phil.”

  Clyde gaped at the pair, too, eyes narrowed. I got the sense he was a little jealous. I felt a little dirty, like a voyeur.

  “Um, Phil, if I could make one more introduction?”

  Phil didn’t relinquish Nadine’s hand or gaze. “Yes?”

  “This is Clyde Williams. He founded our law firm. So he’s like Jack’s boss. A very important figure in Texas civil rights and criminal defense.”

  Clyde straightened in his chair.

  Phil got the hint. He swung fully toward the old man, and stuck out his hand. “So it’s you I have to thank, sir. Jack is representing me, and I know I’m in the best of hands. Thank you, thank you so much.”

  Clyde shook. “It’s our honor. To facilitate you exercising your right to due process and a speedy trial by a jury of your peers. We couldn’t ask for anything more noble.”

  Clyde had a way of making me want to salute the flag. Only there wasn’t one in there. I settled for beaming with pride at him.

  “So, Phil, are you here to work on the discovery responses with me?” I asked.

  “I am.” He shot a suggestive glance at Nadine. “Then I have a lunch date.”

  She tittered, and if I’d have been holding a drink, it would have hit the floor.

  Glancing back and forth between the two of them, I said to Phil, “Well, if you can give me a few minutes, there seems to be a line forming at my desk.”

  He moved over to the couch and stood by Nadine. “I think I could bear the wait if you could spare a seat on this couch beside you, Nadine?”

  The two looked at each other in a way that made me really, really hungry for chocolate.

  I waved at him. “Have a seat, Phil.”

  Phil bowed to Nadine, and she sat first, and he followed suit, very, very close beside her.

  Time to get control of the room. “So, Nadine, you want to go first?”

  She rubbed her lips together to moisten them, a coquettish move if I’d ever seen one. “I wanted to tell you how it went with Betsy this weekend.”

  To Clyde, I explained, “Betsy is the daughter of our deceased client Sofia Perez, who was murdered while incarcerated at Potter County Detention Center. We’re filing a survivor action against the county on Betsy’s behalf.”

  Clyde nodded. “Sofia. Betsy. Yes, good, good.” He turned toward Nadine again, holding on to the armrest to keep himself facing her. “We’re all ears, Nadine.” More like all eyeballs—eyeballs to Nadine’s cleavage. Nadine was holding her girls up high, so I was guessing she didn’t mind all the male admiration.

  “I made the Rainbow Room visit to her at the Hodges’ place this weekend, like we’d discussed. I told them we were clearing out some items that we had to have off the books in 2014. Never mind that it didn’t make any sense. They bought it.” She smoothed one side of her wispy flyaways behind an ear. “I gave Betsy the backpack, but it didn’t go all that well.”

  My stomach clenched. “No? What happened?”

  “She started crying. She said she already had a backpack, that she lost it in “Mexico,” and that her mama made her promise she’d never lose it, so her friend Emily was going to find it for her.”

  “Oh no.”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “I haven’t the slightest clue where to find that backpack.”

  “Sounds like you’d better start looking anyway.”

  “For real.”

  “It got worse.”

  “Oh?”

  “The Hodges. They are some weird-ass people. Their place is like the Stepford wives, Branch Davidian version.”

  Phil lunged forward in his seat. “Trevon and Mary Alice Hodges?”

  Nadine turned to him. “Yes.”

  “They go to that Mighty is His Word church, the ones where the assholes that harassed me go.”

  My fists clenched in my lap. “We’ve got to figure out a reason to get her away from them.”

  Clyde shook his head. “Freedom of religion is an important right, too.”

  I lifted my shoulders and dropped them. “I wouldn’t disagree with you, Clyde, but in this case, it’s more like they’re inflicting their religion on others. Which can have the effect of depriving others of their right to freedom of religion.”

  “Not to mention freedom of association,” Phil added. “And freedom to make a legal buck.”

  I was impressed. Not all of our clients became so knowledgeable about the law, but Phil seemed to have it down. That, and
a healthy capitalist spirit.

  Clyde opened his mouth, but at that moment Jack burst in. I glanced at my computer screen. I’d missed his email reply, but it was there: Tell him I’m on my way.

  “Hello, all. Clyde, good of you to drop by,” Jack said.

  The notion that Clyde could spontaneously drop by tickled me. Clyde had a home nurse, a housekeeper, and a driver, all of whom worked full time to keep him moving at all. He thrived on the law, though, and I knew that his continued involvement with the practice he loved kept him one foot out of the grave.

  “How’d it go?” I let my eyes drink in the beautiful sight of Jack Holden as he answered.

  “Crooked cop complaint filed. Red flag waved at bull. Or bulls, as the case may be.” He held up a plastic bag. “And one missing mobile phone returned.”

  “What? They found my phone?”

  He tossed it to me. “Surprise, surprise.”

  “I’m so glad I hadn’t replaced it yet.” I pulled it out of the bag and turned it on.

  Nadine snorted. “What is it about the cops in this town? We’ve got one Asian cop that practically lives up at the Polo Club, and he’s not there working security. He’s a lousy tipper, too. And one of our dancers is so freaked out about a bad cop she won’t even come to work.”

  I had certainly had my fill of bad cops this week, but the others I’d encountered here were fine. “The one I met when I got conked over the head last fall was good enough.” The conking had occurred when I’d stumbled across a murder in progress, while I was trying to find Betsy. That cop—Wilson, maybe?—had a horrible mustache, but other than that he seemed nice. “Hopefully it’s a minority of them.”

  “I’m not the one to vouch for that.” Phil shook his head. “I can’t get any help with those fanatics harassing me.”

  Clyde raised a fist in the air at least six inches above his lap. “There’s a thin line between police and police state, and it’s our job to guard that line.” And with that, he collapsed in a heap in front of his chair.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “How’re you doing, Clyde?” I lifted the gnome-like hand from the bed and squeezed it.

  We were at the Southwest Hospital Emergency Room, three hours after he’d bit the dust at our offices. I glanced around the curtained space and shuddered. I’d logged more time here than I’d cared to last fall, and I didn’t love being back.

  Clyde waved his other hand at me. “A bunch of fuss about nothing. I’ve told these quacks I have to be home before dinner.”

  Jack and I shared a smile, and Clyde’s regular home nurse, Betty, clucked. “Slow down, Mr. Williams. We’re gonna see what the quacks have to say before we go making any plans.”

  If Betty ever left nursing, the beefy woman had a future in sumo wrestling. She certainly threw her weight around when it came to Clyde. She’d met us here minutes after we’d arrived and immediately taken charge. Clyde’s driver was out in the waiting room. The two doted on Clyde. We all did, really.

  “Low blood sugar. That’s all it was. Low blood sugar.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Whatever it was, you can’t go running off by yourself like that anymore, you hear me? You’re lucky you didn’t break a hip in that fall.”

  As Clyde started to wind up, Jack stepped between the two of them. “See you later, Clyde. Merry Christmas.”

  I saluted him. “Merry Christmas, sir.”

  Clyde’s face softened. “Merry Christmas, you two.” He motioned me over to him and I leaned close. “Tell Nadine I’m fine.”

  I nodded gravely.

  Jack held the door to the room open and I exited. As soon as it shut, Clyde’s voice resumed, arguing with Betty. I felt bad for the old guy, but I sided with her on this one. Thank God I’d had help around when Clyde fell. Getting old sucked, although it did beat the alternative.

  Jack and I walked down the hall without speaking. I was hyperaware of his nearness, in a good way. When we reached the door to the parking lot, I slipped on my jacket, and he took my arm. We exited together, walking to my car. The cold hadn’t eased up, and the wind whipped against my face. I pulled the collar of my coat closed higher on my neck.

  “The shop called. My Jeep is ready. Can you drop me by to get it?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  “After that, can you hold down the fort by yourself for a few hours?”

  “Don’t I always?”

  He squeezed my arm. “You’re taking Wednesday off, right?”

  “It’s Christmas Eve. I had planned to. Do you need something?” We approached my car and I pulled my keys from my pocket and clicked to unlock the doors.

  “No, no. It’s just, well, in case we don’t get around to it before then, I thought maybe we could talk Wednesday night.”

  “Christmas Eve night?”

  “Well, if you don’t have plans.”

  “Other than it being Christmas Eve, you mean?”

  “Maybe you could come to services at my church with me. And then we could talk.”

  I stood at the driver’s side, hand on the door handle, Jack beside me. My heart stopped beating in my chest. After a slow count of three it exploded into a chaotic rhythm. Was Jack asking me out?

  Jack shuffled his feet. “If you aren’t already committed—”

  “No, no. I’m not. I mean, yes, I’ll go with you.”

  “Good. I’ll pick you up at five thirty.” He opened the door to my car.

  I stood there beside him, smiling, floating, not sure if it was real yet. “Sounds perfect.”

  ***

  I sat in an examination chair in Dr. Parks’s orthodontic office half an hour after dropping Jack at the mechanic. Large mauve flowers floating in a sea of green ivy assaulted me from walls in three directions. Apparently, Dr. Parks had consulted my mother for decorating tips.

  The orthodontist probed inside my mouth and shook his head. “Well, can’t say I didn’t warn you. Oh, your poor mother. All that money, wasted.” He removed his hands from my mouth, then pulled off his gloves finger by finger, snapping the rubber as he did so. “I can have a treatment plan together for you after Christmas. Martha will take all your X-rays now.”

  “Treatment plan? Can’t I get another retainer?”

  He shuddered. “Goodness no. What’s there to retain? Your teeth are nowhere near alignment. But these days we can do wonders with products like Invisalign that work as well as traditional braces and are less obvious, in less time, too. No one will even notice you’re wearing them.”

  “How long would I have to have them?”

  “Well I haven’t seen your films, but maybe six months.”

  “And the cost?”

  “A few thousand. My office would get you the exact figures.” He pushed his stool away and rolled across the floor.

  I nearly gasped. I wanted to ask him why I needed to do this, but before I could he said, “Martha will be here shortly,” and was gone.

  “Thank you,” I whispered to the empty room.

  My head reeled. My bank account couldn’t take that kind of hit. Every cent I had was accounted for in the adoption process and with the duplex. Even after Dr. Parks’s dire predictions—and presumptions—a few days ago, I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to do this. So what was I doing here? The X-rays would have to wait. I ripped the bib from my neck and got to my feet. I retrieved my purse and headed for the reception and billing area. I stopped at the window for checkout.

  “Hello. My name is Emily Bernal. What is the charge for my exam today?”

  The woman behind the counter had gray curls that lay flat against her skull like they’d been painted on. She peered up at me through half-glasses perched at the end of her nose. “Emily Phelps? It’s me, Mrs. Parks. How are you?”

  Of course. The orthodontist’s wife had always worked with him. “Hello, I’m good. And you?”

  “Dealing with the insurance companies gets harder every year, but, other than that, fairly well, thank you.” Her eyes swept the desk in fr
ont of her. “I’m afraid I don’t have your file.”

  “Well, Dr. Parks examined me, and Martha was going to do X-rays, but my office called, so I’m going to have to run.” I held up my cell phone. “An emergency.”

  “We’ll take care of the billing by mail then. Are you still at the same address?”

  “Yes,” I said through gritted teeth. That question was almost as bad as when the host at a restaurant said, “Just one, ma’am?”

  “Would you like to reschedule your X-rays?”

  “I’ll call. Thank you and good-bye.”

  She waggled her fingers at me.

  I turned to go, and as I did, I almost ran headlong into a man coming in through the exit door. “Excuse me,” I said.

  “Pardon me.” Police uniform. Red hair. Full face. He kept walking.

  I called after him, “Officer Burrows?”

  He looked back at me, eyes narrowed. “Yes?”

  Steam built up in my ears. “You don’t even remember me, after what you did?”

  “Hmmmm.” He pulled a small flip notepad and pen from his pocket.

  Hissssssssss went the steam. “You arrested me and took my phone?”

  “I guess.” Burrows scribbled something in his notepad.

  “Officer Burrows?”

  He looked up and snapped the notepad shut. “Take care, now.” He walked briskly down the hall, away from me.

  What the H-E-double-hockey-sticks was up with him?

  Chapter Eighteen

  After I left the orthodontist, I returned to the office. I unlocked the door and let myself in. Snowflake didn’t run out to greet me, which was odd.

  “Snowflake?”

  No jingle of bells and dog tags. I was still a lot unsettled by my encounter with Burrows, and my heart pounded in my ears. I pulled the baby Glock from my purse. I knew Jack had said he wouldn’t be here, but he hadn’t said a word about the dog. I tiptoed down the hallway, moving cautiously up to and around the kitchen door, checking for intruders within. Nothing but the normal white refrigerator, white cabinets, and wooden-topped table and white chairs. I did the same at the door to Jack’s office, dropping into a shooting stance on the far side of the doorway as I peered in. No one. I bent over and checked for feet under his massive desk.