Holidays Can Be Murder: A Charlie Parker Christmas Mystery by Connie Shelton Page B

messages and sheets from yellow lined pads. I’ll never know how the man finds anything in here. I patted down the mountain of stuff until I felt a hard, square shape resembling the Rolodex.
    Cradling the phone to my shoulder and stabbing the button for line one, I assured myself that Drake was still on the line.
    “Hold on a second while I try to remember Ron’s filing system,” I said. “He doesn’t do anything the way anyone else does.” On a lucky guess, I flipped to the letter L and discovered several cards with Lawyer written at the top. I thumbed through them to see if I recognized any names.
    “Might try Martin Palmer or George Collins,” I suggested, reading off the phone numbers. “Or if Judy would feel more comfortable with a woman, I’ve heard Natalie Rice is good. Don’t know if any of them will be in their offices the day after Christmas, but maybe there’ll be a message with an alternate way to contact them.”
    I closed the Rolodex lid. “Did they actually arrest Judy, or just take her down for questioning?” I asked. I listened while Drake repeated the question to Wilbur.
    “He’s not really sure. They didn’t put cuffs on her.”
    “Well, either way, she probably should have an attorney with her. I’ll get off the phone so you guys can make some calls. There’s not much to do here, so I should be home soon.”
    I switched off Ron’s light, went back downstairs, and finished stacking the mail. After carrying mine and Ron’s upstairs to our respective offices, I scanned the empty rooms to be sure everything was in place, debating the wisdom of driving back downtown to see if I could help Judy. Decided they probably wouldn’t let me see her, since I wasn’t legal counsel. I locked the back door and headed home.
Wilbur, Drake, and Catherine were sitting around the kitchen table when I arrived.
“Any news?” I asked.
“We reached Martin Palmer on his cell phone,” Drake said. “He’s on his way to APD to see if he can straighten this out.”
    Wilbur looked more helpless than ever, clutching an empty mug in his hands and staring at a spot somewhere in the middle of the table. His thin, sandy hair stood out in tufts on the sides, as if he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly. Catherine looked up at me with a raised eyebrow, which I took to mean that things didn’t look too great.
“Would anyone like a sandwich?” I offered, needing something to do besides stand around.
Catherine jumped up and headed toward the refrigerator. “Yes, that’s a great idea. Let’s put some lunch together for everyone.”
The phone rang just as I was reaching into the breadbox. We all froze in place. Drake reached for it on the second ring.
“Martin Palmer,” he said, handing the receiver over to Wilbur, whose hand shook visibly when he took it.
    “Uh-huh, uh-huh.” He nodded his head as the attorney talked. “Is that it then? Uh-huh.” He pressed the button to end the call and set the phone on the table.
    We all stood in our frozen positions while he scrubbed at the sides of his hair some more.
    “Well?” Drake finally asked in a remarkably calm voice. I wanted to scream.
    Wilbur let out a huge sigh. “They’ve charged her.” His voice nearly broke and he swallowed deeply. His Adam’s apple traveled up and down again before more words came out. “She has to stay there until a hearing tomorrow. The judge will decide whether she can be out on bail.”
    Catherine crossed to him and put her arm around his thin shoulders.
    “Surely she’ll be granted bail,” I pressed. “She’s certainly not a flight risk or a danger to society.” I pulled slices of bread out of the loaf and began smearing them with mayonnaise.
    “I can’t believe this is happening at all,” Drake argued.
    That pretty well summed it up for all of us.
    “Let me call Ron this afternoon,” I said. “Maybe we can do a little investigating of our own and get some leads on the real killer.”
    “You know the