she?” Albertine asked.
“More fool she.”
“We’ve got a client,” Charlie said, slightly taken aback by Albertine’s disapproval,
“although I did tell Gigi I thought we should turn down the case.”
“Damn right, you should’ve.” Albertine shook her head, her towering pile of braids,
whorls, and curlicues tilting dangerously, despite enough shiny hair shellac to prevent
wispies in gale-force winds. “Gigi’s not really over that larcenous jackass, and I’d
hate to see him take advantage of her again. As for that skank he took up with … well!
If my Tyrone brought home someone like that, I’d take him by the ear and beat some
sense into him with a broom.”
Charlie laughed. She’d only met Albertine’s son once when he visited from New Orleans,
but he was a six-foot-three former LSU offensive lineman. Still, she didn’t doubt
Albertine could cow him into submission. “Gigi said she can handle it.”
“Hmph” was Albertine’s only response. She gave Charlie’s shoulders another squeeze,
then said, “I’m expecting a delivery of okra, so I’ve got to get back. Come on down
for a bowl of the best gumbo this side of the Big Easy later on.”
“Will do,” Charlie promised. Just the thought of Albertine’s rich gumbo made her stomach
growl.
Albertine had barely walked out the door when the phone rang. “Swift Investigations,”
Charlie answered.
“Oh, oh, Charlie! I tried you at home and you weren’t there and then I thought maybe,
just maybe, you’d gone into the office, and I’m so happy I caught you!”
“Calm down, Gigi.” Charlie struggled to make sense of her partner’s words through
the Georgia accent that got more pronounced whenever Gigi was agitated. “What’s wrong?”
A gulping sound came over the phone. “Well, there’s good news, bad news, and worse
news,” Gigi said, sniffling.
Charlie suppressed a growl. Gigi’s inability to relay information succinctly drove
her crazy. “Just cut to the chase.”
“The good news is that I found Les.”
“That’s great! So—”
“The bad news is that he’s gone again.”
“Well—”
Gigi drowned Charlie out with a wail. “And the worse news is that I’ve been arrested!”
By the time Charlie got Gigi calmed down enough to get a coherent story from her about
finding Les at her friends’ house, she’d made it halfway through a new Pepsi.
“So then I noticed the alarm had gone off—Les must’ve set it when he left and I set
it off when I let that evil Knievel out to do his chores—”
“There was a stuntman staying at the house? I thought he was dead.”
“What?” Gigi asked, sounding totally bewildered. “I’m not talking about a movie. This
is real .”
“You just said something about Evil Knievel shoveling the walk or something.”
“Knievel’s the dog, ” Gigi said, sounding as testy as Charlie had ever heard her.
“Right.” Charlie knocked back the rest of her Pepsi, figuring she would need the caffeine
in her system to make it through the rest of the day.
“Anyway,” Gigi continued, “the police came and they accused me of breaking in and
of stealing things—you know I would never steal anything—and then they brought me
down to the police station and, oh, Charlie, I don’t know what to do. Please come up here and fix it!” Gigi ended on another wail.
Charlie couldn’t ignore Gigi’s plea. “Of course I’ll come. I just need to figure out
how I’ll get there since I can’t drive that far yet.” She cycled friends through her
head. Albertine had a restaurant to run and couldn’t spend the day jaunting off to
Aspen. Dan might be able to do it if he didn’t have any parish commitments. She thought
about Connor Montgomery, the Colorado Springs Police detective she had some sort of
relationship with. The confusing sort that occurred when one party was wary of involvement
due to memories of an adrenaline-junkie
“More fool she.”
“We’ve got a client,” Charlie said, slightly taken aback by Albertine’s disapproval,
“although I did tell Gigi I thought we should turn down the case.”
“Damn right, you should’ve.” Albertine shook her head, her towering pile of braids,
whorls, and curlicues tilting dangerously, despite enough shiny hair shellac to prevent
wispies in gale-force winds. “Gigi’s not really over that larcenous jackass, and I’d
hate to see him take advantage of her again. As for that skank he took up with … well!
If my Tyrone brought home someone like that, I’d take him by the ear and beat some
sense into him with a broom.”
Charlie laughed. She’d only met Albertine’s son once when he visited from New Orleans,
but he was a six-foot-three former LSU offensive lineman. Still, she didn’t doubt
Albertine could cow him into submission. “Gigi said she can handle it.”
“Hmph” was Albertine’s only response. She gave Charlie’s shoulders another squeeze,
then said, “I’m expecting a delivery of okra, so I’ve got to get back. Come on down
for a bowl of the best gumbo this side of the Big Easy later on.”
“Will do,” Charlie promised. Just the thought of Albertine’s rich gumbo made her stomach
growl.
Albertine had barely walked out the door when the phone rang. “Swift Investigations,”
Charlie answered.
“Oh, oh, Charlie! I tried you at home and you weren’t there and then I thought maybe,
just maybe, you’d gone into the office, and I’m so happy I caught you!”
“Calm down, Gigi.” Charlie struggled to make sense of her partner’s words through
the Georgia accent that got more pronounced whenever Gigi was agitated. “What’s wrong?”
A gulping sound came over the phone. “Well, there’s good news, bad news, and worse
news,” Gigi said, sniffling.
Charlie suppressed a growl. Gigi’s inability to relay information succinctly drove
her crazy. “Just cut to the chase.”
“The good news is that I found Les.”
“That’s great! So—”
“The bad news is that he’s gone again.”
“Well—”
Gigi drowned Charlie out with a wail. “And the worse news is that I’ve been arrested!”
By the time Charlie got Gigi calmed down enough to get a coherent story from her about
finding Les at her friends’ house, she’d made it halfway through a new Pepsi.
“So then I noticed the alarm had gone off—Les must’ve set it when he left and I set
it off when I let that evil Knievel out to do his chores—”
“There was a stuntman staying at the house? I thought he was dead.”
“What?” Gigi asked, sounding totally bewildered. “I’m not talking about a movie. This
is real .”
“You just said something about Evil Knievel shoveling the walk or something.”
“Knievel’s the dog, ” Gigi said, sounding as testy as Charlie had ever heard her.
“Right.” Charlie knocked back the rest of her Pepsi, figuring she would need the caffeine
in her system to make it through the rest of the day.
“Anyway,” Gigi continued, “the police came and they accused me of breaking in and
of stealing things—you know I would never steal anything—and then they brought me
down to the police station and, oh, Charlie, I don’t know what to do. Please come up here and fix it!” Gigi ended on another wail.
Charlie couldn’t ignore Gigi’s plea. “Of course I’ll come. I just need to figure out
how I’ll get there since I can’t drive that far yet.” She cycled friends through her
head. Albertine had a restaurant to run and couldn’t spend the day jaunting off to
Aspen. Dan might be able to do it if he didn’t have any parish commitments. She thought
about Connor Montgomery, the Colorado Springs Police detective she had some sort of
relationship with. The confusing sort that occurred when one party was wary of involvement
due to memories of an adrenaline-junkie
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