Read Online Legally Wasted by Tommy Strelka - Free Book Online Page B

front burner, Larkin.”
    “Front burner.”
    “Yes. I know you. This will sit somewhere on
your desk and it will be buried by paperwork and no one will see it
again for six months. I want this on the front burner, and I want
to go ahead and schedule the thing where I come in with a witness
and we talk about the divorce.”
    “The deposition.”
    “Right,” she nodded, “the deposition. I’ll
arrange for the court reporter.”
    “You can’t - -”
    “No,” she stated firmly and quickly. “How’s
next Tuesday?”
    “Next Tuesday?”
    “Say, two o’clock in the afternoon?”
    “I can’t do it,” said Larkin.
    “You haven’t looked at your schedule.”
    “I know that I can’t do it.”
    “You’re drinking too much.”
    “Oh?”
    “I almost took out the trash in your office.
So many bottles, Larkin. They’re spilling over the rim of the trash
can. You need to stop.”
    Larkin nodded and rocked back on his feet.
The light was rather dim inside the room, and he hoped that she
could not see the small new stains on his shirt. However simply
thinking it, seemed to make her scrutinize him. Nothing could hide
from those brown eyes.
    “What’s on your shirt?”
    “Nosebleed.”
    “Do you need Vaseline?” she asked as she went
back into the bag.
    “That’s not a cure-all despite what you
think.”
    “How’s Rusty doing? I miss him so much.”
    He wanted to throw a chair. To clinch every
muscle and bellow to the Gods to smote her ruin. “He’s fine since
he’s back in the house.”
    “I never wanted him in the garage in the
first place. That was your mother’s insistence.” Her face pinched,
but not at the thought of his mother. A sad and painful memory
resurfaced, but she swatted it away with a swing of her big bag.
“You have to be careful,” she said after turning a full circle in
place. “He can gain weight really quickly.”
    “He’s not going to get fat again. And what do
you care. You and Judge Loundsbury are going to steal my cat.
What’s next? Do you want my refrigerator? My garden hose?”
    She shrugged her shoulders and stared at him.
He found that he could no longer meet her eye to eye. “A Detective
Kincaid called for you.”
    “What?” asked Larkin.
    “Detective Kincaid. He wants you to call him
as soon as possible.” She ripped off a small pink slip from the
secretary’s desk and extended her hand.
    “You answered my phone?”
    “It was ringing when I got in the door.” She
placed the slip of paper with the detective’s phone number on the
envelope. “You know me and phones.”
    “And you have absolutely no idea how
unbelievably weird that is.” He crossed his arms.
    “Don’t cross your arms.”
    He uncrossed them. “What did he want?”
    “For you to call him,” she said.
    “But did he say what it was about? I don’t
have any active criminal cases going on right now.”
    “He didn’t say. Just call him, though,
please? He sounded like he really wanted to talk to you.” She
looked back at Charisma’s old desk. “What do you have going on,
Larkin?”
    His mind raced into bullshit mode. Lawyers
chatted all the time about their business between hearings. Larkin
had been lying for months about a personal injury case he was
attempting to settle. He began mouthing the words “truck accident”
when he realized with whom he spoke. He crossed his arms again.
    “Don’t - -” began Madeline, but Larkin
angrily cocked his head. “Next Tuesday at two,” she said after
taking a deep breath. With a flurry of steps, she walked by him and
headed for the door. He bit his lip as she passed by and chose to
hold his breath rather than smell that cinnamon smell that always
seemed to swirl around her. But it didn’t matter. His memory
realized what his senses could not and he was worse for it.
    Larkin listened to the door shut and he
walked to Charisma’s vacant desk. He stared at the envelope until
two drops fell from his eyes and splattered on the yellow