Read Online Hide & Find (Mayfield Cozy Mystery Book 3) by Jerusha Jones - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jerusha Jones
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what was in them.
What were the odds the FBI would be aware of my visit to the bank? No matter how sneaky there were, they couldn’t have planted a tracking device on Lentil yet, could they?
I snatched up the registration signature card and admission ticket and stuffed them into the bottom of my tote bag next to my stash of burner cell phones. I’d love to conceal the date I had access to the box, or even the fact that Skip had planned in advance and procured a box at all. Perhaps I could take advantage of Mr. Sykes’s minor procedural omission before he scanned the evidence of my visit into the computer records, if they even did that kind of thing. Maybe their system was so old it really was paper-only. Better luck for me.
I tossed the key in my bag too. I wouldn’t be returning, but there was no need to inform the staff of that fact. I was more than happy to let the rent lapse on an empty box.
CHAPTER 8
When I pulled up next to the First Presbyterian Church to retrieve Loretta, she was waiting on the steps with a woman dressed in a twin set and smart slacks under a boiled wool coat, a string of pearls around her plump neck. I recognized her immediately — Maeve Berends, the county clerk who was helping me work through the documents needed to establish a legal identity for Emmie.
I hopped out of the truck and trotted over to them.
“Nora.” Maeve pulled me in for a quick hug. “It’s been a pleasure to meet your mother-in-law.”
“I didn’t know—” I gestured vaguely toward the church’s heavy wooden door.
“That I’m an alcoholic? Most people are tired of hearing about my problems, so I save the details for when they seem pertinent, for when they might help others.” She nodded toward Loretta. “We’ve been having a good chat.”
Loretta shivered and hugged her arms around herself, her face the same sickly pale shade it had been earlier. I suddenly realized just how ill-prepared she was for the frigid weather. Her thin layers of clothing did nothing to block the cutting breeze.
“Ready?” I asked her.
After Loretta managed a pinched smile and headed for the truck, Maeve grabbed my hand and leaned in to whisper, “Hear her out. She has a good idea. Tarq’s one of us, but he would never ask for help.”
Of course, Maeve would know Tarq, at the very least from his days as a practicing attorney when he frequented the courthouse where she worked. Maybe he’d even joined AA, because as far as I knew he no longer drank, but he’d done enough damage earlier in his life to be suffering the fatal consequences now.
I squeezed Maeve’s hand in reply and hurried after Loretta.
We buckled up, and I got the heater vents aimed her direction. “Okay. Spill.”
Loretta cast a tentative glance at me, and I gave her the raised eyebrow sign of tell-me-or-else.
“Tarq has more work to do for you, right? You need him? That’s why we stopped by his place earlier?” she ventured.
I shifted Lentil into gear. “Yeah, I really need his expertise — and his boldness. He has a fearlessness because of his condition. In order to help me, he has to confront scary people and do reputation-damaging things, tasks most other lawyers would turn down flat. I don’t think I’d be able to find anybody else who’d be willing to take me on as a client.”
She exhaled loudly. “I thought so. I might be fuzzy-headed sometimes, but I’m not dumb. I know more than you think I do, Nora, and I know you’re trying to shield me. But here’s the thing—” she bent her knee and shifted on the seat so she faced me, “I don’t have anything left to lose either. Tarq and I — we’re in the same boat.”
“You’re sick?” I gulped.
Loretta’s laugh stuttered out. “No, not that I know of. I’ve just come to the conclusion that I don’t have any dignity left that’s worth preserving. I lost it years ago, drank it away. But if I could give myself
What were the odds the FBI would be aware of my visit to the bank? No matter how sneaky there were, they couldn’t have planted a tracking device on Lentil yet, could they?
I snatched up the registration signature card and admission ticket and stuffed them into the bottom of my tote bag next to my stash of burner cell phones. I’d love to conceal the date I had access to the box, or even the fact that Skip had planned in advance and procured a box at all. Perhaps I could take advantage of Mr. Sykes’s minor procedural omission before he scanned the evidence of my visit into the computer records, if they even did that kind of thing. Maybe their system was so old it really was paper-only. Better luck for me.
I tossed the key in my bag too. I wouldn’t be returning, but there was no need to inform the staff of that fact. I was more than happy to let the rent lapse on an empty box.
CHAPTER 8
When I pulled up next to the First Presbyterian Church to retrieve Loretta, she was waiting on the steps with a woman dressed in a twin set and smart slacks under a boiled wool coat, a string of pearls around her plump neck. I recognized her immediately — Maeve Berends, the county clerk who was helping me work through the documents needed to establish a legal identity for Emmie.
I hopped out of the truck and trotted over to them.
“Nora.” Maeve pulled me in for a quick hug. “It’s been a pleasure to meet your mother-in-law.”
“I didn’t know—” I gestured vaguely toward the church’s heavy wooden door.
“That I’m an alcoholic? Most people are tired of hearing about my problems, so I save the details for when they seem pertinent, for when they might help others.” She nodded toward Loretta. “We’ve been having a good chat.”
Loretta shivered and hugged her arms around herself, her face the same sickly pale shade it had been earlier. I suddenly realized just how ill-prepared she was for the frigid weather. Her thin layers of clothing did nothing to block the cutting breeze.
“Ready?” I asked her.
After Loretta managed a pinched smile and headed for the truck, Maeve grabbed my hand and leaned in to whisper, “Hear her out. She has a good idea. Tarq’s one of us, but he would never ask for help.”
Of course, Maeve would know Tarq, at the very least from his days as a practicing attorney when he frequented the courthouse where she worked. Maybe he’d even joined AA, because as far as I knew he no longer drank, but he’d done enough damage earlier in his life to be suffering the fatal consequences now.
I squeezed Maeve’s hand in reply and hurried after Loretta.
We buckled up, and I got the heater vents aimed her direction. “Okay. Spill.”
Loretta cast a tentative glance at me, and I gave her the raised eyebrow sign of tell-me-or-else.
“Tarq has more work to do for you, right? You need him? That’s why we stopped by his place earlier?” she ventured.
I shifted Lentil into gear. “Yeah, I really need his expertise — and his boldness. He has a fearlessness because of his condition. In order to help me, he has to confront scary people and do reputation-damaging things, tasks most other lawyers would turn down flat. I don’t think I’d be able to find anybody else who’d be willing to take me on as a client.”
She exhaled loudly. “I thought so. I might be fuzzy-headed sometimes, but I’m not dumb. I know more than you think I do, Nora, and I know you’re trying to shield me. But here’s the thing—” she bent her knee and shifted on the seat so she faced me, “I don’t have anything left to lose either. Tarq and I — we’re in the same boat.”
“You’re sick?” I gulped.
Loretta’s laugh stuttered out. “No, not that I know of. I’ve just come to the conclusion that I don’t have any dignity left that’s worth preserving. I lost it years ago, drank it away. But if I could give myself
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