a system Ed could live with.
He turned back to Gus. She was wiping down
the counter behind the bar, an enigmatic smile curving her mouth.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.” Her smile widened. “Just that
when you think hard enough, your brain makes noise.”
He snorted. “I wasn’t thinking that
hard.”
She nodded, but he could tell she didn’t
believe him.
“That guy over there?” He gestured toward
the table where Solomon sat with an attractive woman in a neat
summer suit and Niall Mullen, a local boy made good. Niall had gone
off to college, then Harvard Law School. He’d returned to his
hometown to practice, and convinced two of his classmates to join
him. Solomon was one. The woman was the other. Ed couldn’t remember
her name. She handled mostly civil suits, so her path and Ed’s
rarely crossed.
“What about him?”
“He’s a big shot, right?”
“He helped you arrest that drug dealer from
Florida,” Gus recalled, tactfully not adding that Solomon had
helped only because Ed had wrongly charged Solomon’s client with
the crime.
“So, he comes into the station house first
thing this morning to contest a public indecency citation.”
“Was there a riot and I missed it?” Gus
asked.
Ed laughed. “Some lady flashed her tits on
the beach on Sunday.”
“And she was cited?” Gus tossed her
dishcloth aside and shook her head. “You cops don’t have anything
better to do?”
“Sulkowski was there. He saw her running
around with her chest hanging out. So he cited her. What was he
supposed to do?”
“Toss a towel over her and tell her to cover
up.”
“He did that, too.”
“My tax dollars at work,” Gus muttered.
“He couldn’t just ignore the situation.
There were a lot of people on the beach. What got me was that she’d
hire a big gun like Caleb Solomon to fight her infraction.”
Gus shrugged. “I guess she wanted the
best.”
“Hmm.” Ed took another sip of beer, savoring
the cold bite of the foam sliding down his throat. “Can’t blame her
for that. I want the best, too.” He leaned across the bar and stole
another kiss. “That’s why I’ve got you.”
Chapter Five
Caleb had been back in his office ten
minutes after the press conference ended. Five minutes after that,
the air conditioner had conked out again. Perhaps it was a cat with
nine lives, perhaps a mystic attempting to prove that reincarnation
was possible. Or whatever was the opposite of reincarnation: rather
than having a second life, the building’s AC was enjoying a second
death.
Megan phoned the repair guy, who’d departed
from the office just a few hours ago after assuring her he’d fixed
everything. He’d said there had been a problem with the compressor,
or maybe the condenser. Megan couldn’t remember, and Caleb didn’t
know the difference between a compressor and a condenser, anyway.
All he knew was that, once again, he was being baked alive in his
office.
Jerry Felton’s case
was big and complicated. He wanted to map out an initial strategy
with Heather and Niall. He also wanted to be able to think clearly,
and not to wind up drenched in sweat by the time he met up with
Meredith at the Lobster Shack. Fortunately, Heather and Niall were
happy to relocate to the Faulk Street Tavern to discuss the
information Caleb had wrested from the DA and discuss which
accounting firm they should hire to review Felton’s financials and
those of his accuser, Sheila Valenti. Caleb had worked with one
accountant on a few occasions, Heather with another. Niall could
serve as the tie-breaker.
Niall could also serve as the local-boy
resource. He’d grown up in Brogan’s Point. Although he didn’t know
Jerry Felton much better than Caleb did, he knew people who knew
him, and who were familiar with the inner workings of the town’s
municipal government. He could ask around about Sheila Valenti,
find out where her weaknesses lay, learn whether her moral compass
had a faulty compressor or
He turned back to Gus. She was wiping down
the counter behind the bar, an enigmatic smile curving her mouth.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.” Her smile widened. “Just that
when you think hard enough, your brain makes noise.”
He snorted. “I wasn’t thinking that
hard.”
She nodded, but he could tell she didn’t
believe him.
“That guy over there?” He gestured toward
the table where Solomon sat with an attractive woman in a neat
summer suit and Niall Mullen, a local boy made good. Niall had gone
off to college, then Harvard Law School. He’d returned to his
hometown to practice, and convinced two of his classmates to join
him. Solomon was one. The woman was the other. Ed couldn’t remember
her name. She handled mostly civil suits, so her path and Ed’s
rarely crossed.
“What about him?”
“He’s a big shot, right?”
“He helped you arrest that drug dealer from
Florida,” Gus recalled, tactfully not adding that Solomon had
helped only because Ed had wrongly charged Solomon’s client with
the crime.
“So, he comes into the station house first
thing this morning to contest a public indecency citation.”
“Was there a riot and I missed it?” Gus
asked.
Ed laughed. “Some lady flashed her tits on
the beach on Sunday.”
“And she was cited?” Gus tossed her
dishcloth aside and shook her head. “You cops don’t have anything
better to do?”
“Sulkowski was there. He saw her running
around with her chest hanging out. So he cited her. What was he
supposed to do?”
“Toss a towel over her and tell her to cover
up.”
“He did that, too.”
“My tax dollars at work,” Gus muttered.
“He couldn’t just ignore the situation.
There were a lot of people on the beach. What got me was that she’d
hire a big gun like Caleb Solomon to fight her infraction.”
Gus shrugged. “I guess she wanted the
best.”
“Hmm.” Ed took another sip of beer, savoring
the cold bite of the foam sliding down his throat. “Can’t blame her
for that. I want the best, too.” He leaned across the bar and stole
another kiss. “That’s why I’ve got you.”
Chapter Five
Caleb had been back in his office ten
minutes after the press conference ended. Five minutes after that,
the air conditioner had conked out again. Perhaps it was a cat with
nine lives, perhaps a mystic attempting to prove that reincarnation
was possible. Or whatever was the opposite of reincarnation: rather
than having a second life, the building’s AC was enjoying a second
death.
Megan phoned the repair guy, who’d departed
from the office just a few hours ago after assuring her he’d fixed
everything. He’d said there had been a problem with the compressor,
or maybe the condenser. Megan couldn’t remember, and Caleb didn’t
know the difference between a compressor and a condenser, anyway.
All he knew was that, once again, he was being baked alive in his
office.
Jerry Felton’s case
was big and complicated. He wanted to map out an initial strategy
with Heather and Niall. He also wanted to be able to think clearly,
and not to wind up drenched in sweat by the time he met up with
Meredith at the Lobster Shack. Fortunately, Heather and Niall were
happy to relocate to the Faulk Street Tavern to discuss the
information Caleb had wrested from the DA and discuss which
accounting firm they should hire to review Felton’s financials and
those of his accuser, Sheila Valenti. Caleb had worked with one
accountant on a few occasions, Heather with another. Niall could
serve as the tie-breaker.
Niall could also serve as the local-boy
resource. He’d grown up in Brogan’s Point. Although he didn’t know
Jerry Felton much better than Caleb did, he knew people who knew
him, and who were familiar with the inner workings of the town’s
municipal government. He could ask around about Sheila Valenti,
find out where her weaknesses lay, learn whether her moral compass
had a faulty compressor or
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