Read Online ( 2011) Cry For Justice by Ralph Zeta - Free Book Online Page B

was in peril. I glanced at Nora. She gave me a sympathetic glance. It seemed nothing ever ruffled her feathers. Even in the worst circumstances, she always managed to keep that positive outlook, that bright smile that first caught my attention. It was a quality that so many of her terminally ill patients, like my father, cherished.
    She gave me a shrug and said, “What do they know? They never seem to get this stuff right. Maybe it’ll blow over by tomorrow. You’ll see.”
    I just smiled. It was a nice attempt to cheer me up, but the view out the windows told the real story. It was pouring, and the wind showed no signs of weakening. I ambled over to the navigation station and flipped on the Si-Tex weather chart plotter. The six-by-six color screen told the digital version of the story: the large low-pressure area and cold front extended for hundreds of miles and was now draped over the Florida peninsula. Soon it would be over the Bahamas. To make matters worse, the weather system was a slow mover, and although not a huge event like a tropical storm, it still packed quite a punch. Offshore buoys north of Ft. Pierce were reporting swells in the twelve- to fifteen-foot range not the kind of seas you wanted on a pleasure cruise.
    My reverie came to an abrupt end as Nora approached me and kissed me softly. “Hey, I wanted to say thank you.”
    “For what?”
    “For agreeing to talk to Amy.”
    “Sure,” I said. It wasn’t as if she had given me much choice. I leaned down and kissed her. She kissed me back, which once again brought those manly needs to the fore. My hands took on a life of their own and went a-hunting. It didn’t work.
    Nora pushed away and declared, “You’re good, I’ll give you that, counselor.”
    “What?” I had thought we were getting somewhere.
    “Men like you are so dangerous.”
    “Not dangerous enough, it seems.”
    “What time is it?” she asked, ignoring my remark.
    “Almost six. Why?”
    “Plenty of time.”
    “For what?”
    “To clean up,” she said. “You’re meeting Amy at Duffy’s on the Waterway,” she said as she opened the door and went into the head. “She’ll be there at seven. As in tonight . Waiting for you. That gives you plenty of time to change and get there.”
     
     

Five
    I arrived at Duffy’s on the Waterway and parked the Porsche in a corner spot where it wouldn’t be dinged by blind or careless drivers.
    I was ten minutes late not too bad, considering the short notice. Privately, I hoped my “date” wouldn’t show up. Outside, the weather seemed to be going from bad to worse. The occasional bolts of lightning that lit up the clouds to the northwest were becoming more frequent, and the distant rumble of thunder echoed closer in the night. My shirt got a bit damp as I sprinted to the entrance. Umbrellas were for sissies.
    The expansive restaurant was typical of south Florida dinning hangouts by the Intracoastal Waterway. It was the kind of place where good-looking kids from nearby universities waited for scarce job openings. Management was very friendly, and the place was spotless, served an enviable menu of locally caught seafood and top cuts of beef, and had a large bar that attracted plenty of well-heeled customers. In winter, when the snowbirds had all flocked down to Palm Beach County, it was damned hard to get a reservation for dinner on a weekend evening before nine o’clock. Sometimes you had to wait up to two months for a six or seven p.m. table. Tonight, even though the restaurant’s big lobby and bar lacked the usual throngs of diners waiting to be seated, the place was still hopping. The din of the crowd, the clink of silverware on china, and soft island music gave the place an air of exotic charm. I had a quick conversation with the attractive hostess, who promptly informed me, to my disappointment, that my date was already seated. Yet another young and very friendly hostess escorted me to my table.
    Her back was to me, but I could