Read Online Imperfect Contract by Gregg E. Brickman - Free Book Online Page B

her chair and looked into my face.
    "What did they tell you about the woman?  If you don't mind my asking, that is."
    "They said she was in her fifties and worked in a legal office on the other side of town.  And, I still don't believe it—she's white."
    "So?"
    "That makes it worse."  She knitted her brows together as if she was stricken with a severe migraine.
    "Why?" 
    "I don't know, but it does.  He insisted Jamel date African-American girls, his own kind Barry would say.  I can't believe he'd take up with a white woman."
    "Amelia, it happens all the time."
    "Not in my family it doesn't, not to me."  She pointed at me.  "Sophia, what about my son?  When he finds out about the girlfriend, it'll make me look like a fool, and he'll lose respect for his father."
    "Maybe he doesn't have to find out."  I said.
    "He will.  Stone said he was going to talk to Jamel and see if he knew about the woman.  He implied that if I didn't admit to trying to kill Barry over it, maybe Jamel would."
    I was having trouble reading her.  There was something strange in the exchange.  She started out weepy and sad, and now she was angry.  Was it because she had found out about the girlfriend?  Did the race issue make it more insulting for her?  Or, had she known all along, but now it was exposed?

 
     
     
    10
     
     
    When I left the hospital that evening, getting out on time for a change, Ray Stone stood next to my car in the parking lot.  "Fancy meeting you here."  I said, digging into my pocketbook for my car keys.
    "I've been trying to reach you.  Don't you return your calls anymore?"
    I glanced at my cell phone.  "Oops.  It's not on."
    "Makes it hard to get in touch with you."  He laughed, but the accompanying smile was over-confident and annoying. 
    "Yup.  I should leave it off more often."  I stuck the key in the car door.  "Look, Ray, I'm tired.  I want to go home." 
    I wasn't in the mood.  I hadn't processed the information from Amelia yet and felt he had somehow set up the poor woman.  And why was he here?
    He stuck his long arm out, over my shoulder, and braced the door shut.  I thought he was trying to be casual about it, but he didn't fool me.  "I interviewed Amelia today.  We need to talk."
    "Questioned."
    "Huh?  We're on the same side.  I don't need to question you."
    "Questioned.  I said questioned.  Amelia, I mean.  You questioned Amelia.  Maybe interrogated, confronted, and accused would be better ways of putting it."  I frowned at him while I continued to fiddle with the lock.
    "If you like."  He stepped back a few steps.  "Clue me in.  Why are you concerned?"
    "I don't know why I'm concerned.  Earlier, I was anxious to hear from you and find out your side of the story.  But it seems you destroyed the woman.  Here she is.  Her husband is critically ill.  She doesn't have a clue if he'll ever be a shadow of his former self.  Her life and business are in ruins.  You tell her he was cheating on her, then accuse her of trying to have him killed.  I guess I have sympathy with the wife of the victim."  I took a breath.
    "You don't think she had motive?"
    "What motive?"  I knew where he was going. 
    Nurses are trained problem solvers.  We're critical thinkers.  That's why we're good at finding solutions to our patients' problems, and it's why we're good at solving mysteries.  We know how to collect the facts, study them, and arrive at reasonable conclusions. 
    But we get involved.  Caring and compassion motivate us to be safe and accurate.  Sometimes it clouds the mind.
    "Look at it this way."  Ray held up his left hand, using his right index finger as a pointer to tick off the issues.  "There are five thousand dollars missing from their money market account.  The withdrawal emptied the cash reserve of the business, I might add.  The withdrawal slip bears her signature.  She denied knowing about it."
    "Maybe she didn't," I said with as much venom as I could muster.
    He