• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

By Root 624 0

words before her were sharp, incisive, and her mind hopscotched through a dozen prosecutorial tricks she could use against Drake Boone. The next instant she seemed floating in space. She allowed herself a luxurious shiver and pressed her legs tight together. Christine had not had a man for almost six months, and she had never had a man like Breeze Albury. Three times her hand, unbidden, reached for the phone. Three times she intercepted it. Was he still asleep? Perhaps he had already gone. Would he come back? Did she want him to? What could she say? Thanks for making me feel like a woman again, Breeze; too bad I have to put you in jail. That’s not a very nice morning-after hello, is it?

Christine lay her head against the cool black metal of the typewriter. It was resting there when the visitor walked in.

“Good morning, remember me?”

Christine jerked up, guiltily.

“Oh, oh, Miss Ravenel, uh, Laurie, yes, hello.” Christine felt the blood rush to her face.

“Am I interrupting anything?”

“No, no, please sit down.”

They exchanged pleasantries, Christine battling for composure. How could Laurie know? Only if Breeze had told her. Maybe he had called her from Christine’s own phone, her own bed. Maybe they had joked about how easy it had been for the big fisherman to make her. Christine felt mortified. For one paranoid instant she loathed Breeze Albury.

“We have something important to talk about,” Laurie said.

“Yes,” Christine said grimly.

“Last night…”

“Look, Laurie, what I…”

“Last night there was a big meeting, maybe an historic meeting for Key West. I think you should know about it. Unofficially, of course.”

“Oh. Well.” Christine toyed with a pencil.

“Bob Freed and his friends have decided to fight back. They are fed up with the harassment and the corruption around here, and they’re going to do something about it.”

“Oh.”

“You OK? You’re sweating.”

“No. Yes, thank you. Please go on.”

“They have a list of targets, and they are going to investigate them systematically. They are going to trace the course of corruption—up to the top—and then they are going to root it out…. Can I get you a glass of water? I can come back another time….”

“No, no, I’m fine, really. What exactly would they do with the information they acquire?”

“That’s where you come in.”

“Tell me.”

Laurie spoke for ten minutes with great animation, a righteous Valkyrie. Christine took great care not to look her in the eye, but the lawyer in her was intrigued by what she heard.

“I think that is fascinating, Laurie,” she said at last, “but one thing I must caution you against is trying to take the law into your own hands.”

“That’s a joke. You know the law around here as well as I do.”

“I know, but the second you start behaving like the people you’re after, I can’t help you anymore.”

“I am sure we can find some common ground.” Laurie smiled, and it occurred to Christine what a handsome woman she was.

“At least let’s talk again. I appreciate your coming.”

Laurie rose to go.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot to ask before. How’s Ricky?”

“Oh, he’s fine, thanks, eats and breathes baseball.”

Laurie’s hand was on the doorknob.

“No, I mean his arm. How is his arm?”

“His arm? What’s wrong with his arm?”

“It’s broken, didn’t you know? He’s still in the hospital, isn’t he?”

Laurie paled, staggered a step.

“Hospital? God, I didn’t … the meeting lasted so late I stayed with … Oh, Ricky.”

“I’m sorry.” Christine reached across the desk to comfort Laurie.

“Oh, God, I’ll go there right now…. Thanks for telling me.”

“I’m sorry,” Christine said again, uselessly. Even then she didn’t realize her mistake.

Laurie turned again for the door. Then she stopped.

“How do you know about Ricky’s arm?”

“Breeze told me,” Christine Manning said in the voice of a little girl.

“Breeze told you!”

“I …”

“You’ve seen Breeze.” It was an accusation. “How? Why? I’ve been worried sick about him. Where is he?”

“I don’t know. I talked to him, that’s all. He’s been helping me….”

“Breeze? Helping you?”

They stood there for a long, strained moment, two strong, confused women, each