Read Online Hanging on a String by Janette M. Louard - Free Book Online Page A

undeterred.
    â€œWhatever she decides, she’ll be just fine,” I said, and in my heart I knew that I was right about this. My sister was going to be fine. “And I’ll support any decision she makes.”
    â€œJasmine, listen ... talk to her—”
    â€œI’ve got to go, Mom,” I said, before placing the telephone in the cradle.
    I remembered a time, many years ago, when I was a little girl. I was tired, and we were in church. We’d gone to my grandmother’s Baptist church in Georgia. Unlike the efficient (quick) Episcopal services I was used to, we were in our third hour of worship, and the end was nowhere in sight. I remember laying my head on my mother’s lap—I must have been around seven years old—and she’d stroked my hair. I felt safe that day. Safe and loved by my mother. I was glad for that memory. It reassured me that there was love there. Even when my mother’s words hurt, there was still some love in there.
    Â 
    Several hours after my mother’s telephone call, I was knee-deep in Chester’s files. A quick knock on my door announced the arrival of Lamarr, the head of the mail room and my all-around helpmate. He was one of the few people in the firm whom I considered to be a friend. I had enlisted his aid in obtaining all of Chester’s files, which were now placed on my floor, my chairs, and in every other available space in my office.
    â€œHere’s the last load, Jasmine,” he announced. “Thank God.”
    I looked up from the work and was relieved to see a friendly face.
    â€œYou look as if you’ve just lost your favorite teddy bear,” he said.
    â€œTough times,” I replied.
    Lamarr closed the door behind him. “This thing with Chester has gotten everybody pretty spooked.”
    I let out a long sigh in response, unable to think of anything to say other than the obvious. For most folks, including me, murder was a spooky thing.
    â€œI know this might be a stupid question,” Lamarr continued, looking directly at me, “but is something else, something other than the demise of Chester Jackson, bothering you?”
    He knew me too well. “Thea left her husband.”
    â€œWhat happened?” Like most of my male friends, Lamarr had a not so secret crush on my sister.
    â€œHe cheated on her.”
    He shook his head. “I don’t believe that. Brooks isn’t stupid enough to do that.”
    I thought back to the conversation I’d just had with my mother. Both she and Lamarr obviously had more faith in Brooks than was warranted.
    â€œCould we change the subject?” I asked. I didn’t feel like discussing my sister’s marital issues, particularly after my less than wonderful conversation with my mother on the subject. The demise of my own marriage still caused the occasional bouts of pain, and the thought of my sister having to go through the same crisis depressed me.
    â€œHow many files have you got there?” I asked him.
    â€œForty-two files. That should be all of them, or that’s what Irmalee says.”
    I got up to help Lamarr unload the cart laden with Chester’s case files.
    I thought of Irmalee’s bitter reaction to my offer of condolences earlier this morning and shook my head. I hoped I didn’t have to deal with her too often, although I knew she would be the most logical person to help me if I had any questions about the files.
    â€œI told her that she probably shouldn’t have come to work today,” said Lamarr as we took case files off the cart and searched for space in my office to store them. “But she wasn’t about to hear that. It’s almost as if she feels like she’s still working for him.”
    â€œThey were close,” I said neutrally.
    â€œYes, they were,” he agreed, but there was something about the tone of his voice that made me stop and look at him.
    I knew that tone of voice well. He had