know. A few years ago. Right after I came to Florida. We took a few classes together.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me this?”
“Why would I? It was just a couple of dates. It didn’t mean anything.”
“You never said a word about knowing Jill Rohmer all through her trial.”
“I didn’t know her. I knew her sister. Why are we talking about Jill Rohmer anyway?”
Glen walked to his office door. “I think your brother could use a cup of coffee.”
“No, that’s all right,” Charley protested.
“I would love a cup of coffee,” Bram said at the same time.
“Be right back.” Glen closed the door behind him as he left the room.
“What’s the matter with you?” Charley hissed at her brother.
“Whoa. Hold on there. What’s your problem?” Bram grabbed the sides of his head, as if to keep it from falling off.
“What’s my problem? You’re my problem,” Charley raged, trying to keep her voice down. “You’re so damn irresponsible.”
“Just because I got a little drunk…”
“You didn’t just get a little drunk. You got a lot drunk. And God only knows what else. And you would have driven home in that condition if Glen hadn’t stopped you.”
Bram’s hand moved gingerly to his cheek. “Yes, I vaguely remember something about that.”
“Do you vaguely remember we were supposed to get together yesterday?”
“Do you have to talk so loud?”
“Do you think I enjoy driving all the way to Miami for nothing? Do you think I like being phoned at work by some guy I’ve insulted in print, telling me he’s got my brother? What made you pick this place, for God’s sake?”
“I read about it in your column. It sounded interesting.”
It was Charley’s turn to grab her head. “Okay, that’s it. The rain’s letting up. We’re going home.” She grabbed her brother’s arm, dragged him to his feet. He loomed over her like a tall tree.
“My coffee,” he protested, as Charley pushed him out of the office toward the front door. “I’ll follow you in my car,” he said as they reached the parking lot.
“You sure you’re okay to drive?”
“I’m fine,” Bram insisted. “I’ll be right behind you.”
“Promise?”
Bram nodded his silent consent as he folded his body inside the tiny MG.
But when Charley turned right on South County Road and looked into her rearview mirror only seconds later, he’d already disappeared.
CHAPTER 5
O kay, that’s it. I’m not doing this anymore,” Charley exclaimed, tossing her cell phone back into her purse as she turned off Old Dixie Highway, and made her way through the twisting warren of streets behind the Palm Beach Convention Center, heading for home. It was almost three o’clock in the afternoon. She had returned to the office after attempting many times to contact her brother to no avail. She’d even resorted to subterfuge, calling from a variety of different phones in an effort to get around his caller ID, but still he wasn’t answering either his home phone or his cell. She’d left at least half a dozen messages. (“Bram, where the hell are you? Stop being such an idiot.”) Not surprisingly, he hadn’t answered any of them. Clearly he didn’t want to speak to her. And after a few hours of aimless research for her next column, she decided to call it a day.
“You want to get drunk and get yourself beaten up, end up in jail, or worse, that’s your problem. Not mine,” she said now, nodding at her reflection in the rearview mirror, as if to underline her newfound resolve. “I will not be the one riding to your rescue anymore. I will not show up at the morgue to identify your bruised, broken body. Let Anne do it,” she said, reminded of her sister in her pillow-filled New York apartment, as she drove past tiny New York Street. “Maybe she can fit it in between speaking engagements. And maybe, just maybe,” Charley continued, turning onto New Jersey Street and pulling into her driveway, “her publicist can even
“Why didn’t you ever tell me this?”
“Why would I? It was just a couple of dates. It didn’t mean anything.”
“You never said a word about knowing Jill Rohmer all through her trial.”
“I didn’t know her. I knew her sister. Why are we talking about Jill Rohmer anyway?”
Glen walked to his office door. “I think your brother could use a cup of coffee.”
“No, that’s all right,” Charley protested.
“I would love a cup of coffee,” Bram said at the same time.
“Be right back.” Glen closed the door behind him as he left the room.
“What’s the matter with you?” Charley hissed at her brother.
“Whoa. Hold on there. What’s your problem?” Bram grabbed the sides of his head, as if to keep it from falling off.
“What’s my problem? You’re my problem,” Charley raged, trying to keep her voice down. “You’re so damn irresponsible.”
“Just because I got a little drunk…”
“You didn’t just get a little drunk. You got a lot drunk. And God only knows what else. And you would have driven home in that condition if Glen hadn’t stopped you.”
Bram’s hand moved gingerly to his cheek. “Yes, I vaguely remember something about that.”
“Do you vaguely remember we were supposed to get together yesterday?”
“Do you have to talk so loud?”
“Do you think I enjoy driving all the way to Miami for nothing? Do you think I like being phoned at work by some guy I’ve insulted in print, telling me he’s got my brother? What made you pick this place, for God’s sake?”
“I read about it in your column. It sounded interesting.”
It was Charley’s turn to grab her head. “Okay, that’s it. The rain’s letting up. We’re going home.” She grabbed her brother’s arm, dragged him to his feet. He loomed over her like a tall tree.
“My coffee,” he protested, as Charley pushed him out of the office toward the front door. “I’ll follow you in my car,” he said as they reached the parking lot.
“You sure you’re okay to drive?”
“I’m fine,” Bram insisted. “I’ll be right behind you.”
“Promise?”
Bram nodded his silent consent as he folded his body inside the tiny MG.
But when Charley turned right on South County Road and looked into her rearview mirror only seconds later, he’d already disappeared.
CHAPTER 5
O kay, that’s it. I’m not doing this anymore,” Charley exclaimed, tossing her cell phone back into her purse as she turned off Old Dixie Highway, and made her way through the twisting warren of streets behind the Palm Beach Convention Center, heading for home. It was almost three o’clock in the afternoon. She had returned to the office after attempting many times to contact her brother to no avail. She’d even resorted to subterfuge, calling from a variety of different phones in an effort to get around his caller ID, but still he wasn’t answering either his home phone or his cell. She’d left at least half a dozen messages. (“Bram, where the hell are you? Stop being such an idiot.”) Not surprisingly, he hadn’t answered any of them. Clearly he didn’t want to speak to her. And after a few hours of aimless research for her next column, she decided to call it a day.
“You want to get drunk and get yourself beaten up, end up in jail, or worse, that’s your problem. Not mine,” she said now, nodding at her reflection in the rearview mirror, as if to underline her newfound resolve. “I will not be the one riding to your rescue anymore. I will not show up at the morgue to identify your bruised, broken body. Let Anne do it,” she said, reminded of her sister in her pillow-filled New York apartment, as she drove past tiny New York Street. “Maybe she can fit it in between speaking engagements. And maybe, just maybe,” Charley continued, turning onto New Jersey Street and pulling into her driveway, “her publicist can even
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