Saving Grace (Katie & Annalise Book 1) by Pamela Fagan Hutchins Page A
Authors: Pamela Fagan Hutchins
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five-hundred-dollar retainer, to get started.”
I needed to do this, but was just writing this man a check and trusting him to look into it enough? Would spending the insurance money I hadn’t needed make me feel less guilty? I wanted to call Nick and ask his advice. I wanted to run out the front door. I wanted a rum punch. I wanted Mom and Dad back. I swallowed hard and pulled out my checkbook.
As I wrote him a check, he continued to talk. “My case load is very heavy right now. I know I can’t get to this for a few weeks. It’s not an emergency, after all, as your parents are already dead.”
Another skin-crawling moment. He was right, though. Crass, but right. I set the check on the desk with my business card on top of it and used my fingertips to push them across to him. They dug a trail of clean through the dust on his desk.
“Well, thank you, Ms. Connell. I’ll be in touch,” he said, grabbing the check before my fingertips left it.
As Ava and I stood up to depart, he said, “Oh, one last thing. It’s better for me if I talk to the potential witnesses fresh. It interferes with my investigation when my client tries to do it first herself. So, if you please, let me do what you have hired me to do, and you enjoy the rest of your stay on our lovely island.”
“Fine,” I said.
And we left, as fast as I could get out of there.
Chapter Ten
Ava and I traipsed down the sidewalk, silent as an old married couple instead of two women who had known each other for fifteen hours. I still walked ahead of her, but I was slowing down. From life, though, not from limin’.
When we reached the car, Ava put both her palms flat on the roof. “Tell me you hungry and ready for a cocktail.” She brought one forearm in front of her face and looked at an imaginary watch. “Yep, definitely time for a late lunch.”
“I need to see Baptiste’s Bluff,” I said. “I just need to see it. I don’t think I can turn this over to Walker and let it go without seeing it for myself.”
Ava struck a stage pose, putting her bent arms in the air, all ten fingers pointing to the sky, and gestured from her shoulder in a rhythmic emphasis. “Well, of course you need to see it.” She dropped her dramatic stance and leaned toward me. “And I take you, but you gonna have a flying fish sandwich in one hand and a Red Stripe in the other when we get there.” She pointed to a street ahead and to the left. “Drive, and go that way.”
After we got back into the hot Malibu, we drove out of town along the winding north shore, blue on our right, green on our left. We rolled the windows down and let our hair blow. I needed a hurricane to blow my storm system out and into the sea air, but a strong coastal breeze would do for now. We passed a marina. The smell of diesel and dead fish were overwhelming for a moment, and I exhaled through my nose. I pulled some of the hair out of my mouth that the wind had blown in and took a sip from the water bottle I’d brought from Walker’s office. The same bottle I had given a punishing rubdown with a Sani-Wipe from my purse once we’d gotten into the car.
After ten minutes of driving, Ava pointed to a hut on the beach.
“Pull over there,” she said.
The hut turned out to be a small take-out restaurant, with a bar and some beach stools. There was no name on it that I could see. Ava slipped off her/my shoes and got out of the car, so I followed suit. We crossed the sand to the nameless hut and were greeted by a couple of dogs.
“Coconut retrievers,” Ava said. She commanded them to get back in a deeper voice than I’d heard her use before, and the dogs obliged, tails wagging.
Ava hailed up the proprietor like an old friend and gave him our order. He stuck out his palm, so I pulled out a twenty. His eyes twinkled, and he held out his other palm. I pulled out a second twenty. He nodded, and I placed one twenty in each. He put the money under the counter in a basket and turned back to his
I needed to do this, but was just writing this man a check and trusting him to look into it enough? Would spending the insurance money I hadn’t needed make me feel less guilty? I wanted to call Nick and ask his advice. I wanted to run out the front door. I wanted a rum punch. I wanted Mom and Dad back. I swallowed hard and pulled out my checkbook.
As I wrote him a check, he continued to talk. “My case load is very heavy right now. I know I can’t get to this for a few weeks. It’s not an emergency, after all, as your parents are already dead.”
Another skin-crawling moment. He was right, though. Crass, but right. I set the check on the desk with my business card on top of it and used my fingertips to push them across to him. They dug a trail of clean through the dust on his desk.
“Well, thank you, Ms. Connell. I’ll be in touch,” he said, grabbing the check before my fingertips left it.
As Ava and I stood up to depart, he said, “Oh, one last thing. It’s better for me if I talk to the potential witnesses fresh. It interferes with my investigation when my client tries to do it first herself. So, if you please, let me do what you have hired me to do, and you enjoy the rest of your stay on our lovely island.”
“Fine,” I said.
And we left, as fast as I could get out of there.
Chapter Ten
Ava and I traipsed down the sidewalk, silent as an old married couple instead of two women who had known each other for fifteen hours. I still walked ahead of her, but I was slowing down. From life, though, not from limin’.
When we reached the car, Ava put both her palms flat on the roof. “Tell me you hungry and ready for a cocktail.” She brought one forearm in front of her face and looked at an imaginary watch. “Yep, definitely time for a late lunch.”
“I need to see Baptiste’s Bluff,” I said. “I just need to see it. I don’t think I can turn this over to Walker and let it go without seeing it for myself.”
Ava struck a stage pose, putting her bent arms in the air, all ten fingers pointing to the sky, and gestured from her shoulder in a rhythmic emphasis. “Well, of course you need to see it.” She dropped her dramatic stance and leaned toward me. “And I take you, but you gonna have a flying fish sandwich in one hand and a Red Stripe in the other when we get there.” She pointed to a street ahead and to the left. “Drive, and go that way.”
After we got back into the hot Malibu, we drove out of town along the winding north shore, blue on our right, green on our left. We rolled the windows down and let our hair blow. I needed a hurricane to blow my storm system out and into the sea air, but a strong coastal breeze would do for now. We passed a marina. The smell of diesel and dead fish were overwhelming for a moment, and I exhaled through my nose. I pulled some of the hair out of my mouth that the wind had blown in and took a sip from the water bottle I’d brought from Walker’s office. The same bottle I had given a punishing rubdown with a Sani-Wipe from my purse once we’d gotten into the car.
After ten minutes of driving, Ava pointed to a hut on the beach.
“Pull over there,” she said.
The hut turned out to be a small take-out restaurant, with a bar and some beach stools. There was no name on it that I could see. Ava slipped off her/my shoes and got out of the car, so I followed suit. We crossed the sand to the nameless hut and were greeted by a couple of dogs.
“Coconut retrievers,” Ava said. She commanded them to get back in a deeper voice than I’d heard her use before, and the dogs obliged, tails wagging.
Ava hailed up the proprietor like an old friend and gave him our order. He stuck out his palm, so I pulled out a twenty. His eyes twinkled, and he held out his other palm. I pulled out a second twenty. He nodded, and I placed one twenty in each. He put the money under the counter in a basket and turned back to his
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