Read Online The PMS Outlaws: An Elizabeth MacPherson Novel by Sharyn McCrumb - Free Book Online
Authors: Sharyn McCrumb
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Carla, “You could have made attorney general if you hadn’t broken me out of there.”
“Maybe, but I never was one for playing it safe,” said Purdue. “And it seemed like such a waste to keep you cooped up in there until you got old.”
“Old comes fast in prison.” Carla shivered. “They get like sheep, the institutionalized ones. Like canaries who think the cage is their home.”
Purdue nodded. “And unlike some of my old acquaintances, who are probably pillars of respectability by now, I thought that our present course of action might be more fun than what I was doing before. Lawyers get institutionalized, too, I think. Anyhow, I still think of myself as practicing law. Enforcing it, anyway.”
“How do you figure that?”
Purdue grinned. “When we take those guys’ wallets, we’re just collecting the fines for adultery and fornication. Just collecting the fines.”
Carla Larkin looked at her watch. “Happy hour,” she announced. “Let’s go and collect the wages of sin.”
“Yes,” said Purdue. Her eyes sparkled. “But this time let’s try a change of venue.”
“W e’ve passed all the restaurants on this road,” said Edith, looking through the rear window back at a hamburger joint receding into the distance. Then she looked meaningfully at her wristwatch. “And my lunch hour is over in fifty-one minutes.”
“I thought we could pick up fast food on our way back,” said Bill. “I want to show you something.”
They were speeding along a two-lane blacktop road that had slowly changed from suburban-commercial to rural-agricultural.It was the same route that Bill had traveled yesterday with Holly Milton, but this time Bill was the tour guide.
“Lawyers!” grumbled Edith. “With lawyers, you can never assume. At precisely eleven fifty-eight A.M . you said to me: ‘It’s lunchtime, Edith. Let’s go out.’ And I leapt to a foolish conclusion. Call me crazy, but I took that statement as an implied oral contract, offering me a moderately priced midday meal at your expense, but no-ooo.”
Bill did not take his eyes off the road. “I’ll feed you, I swear!” he said. “At least … I’m not sure how much cash I actually brought with me. I may have to borrow some.…”
Edith sighed. “Let’s go to the Gingerbread House then. They’ll take your check. They know you of old. Now what is so all-fired important that I have to postpone lunch to see it?”
Bill hesitated. “I think it’s better if I show you rather than tell you. Besides, there’s something else I wanted to ask you about—out of the office. What’s wrong with Powell today. Do you know?”
Edith shrugged. She hadn’t been told not to tell Bill anything about the PMS Outlaws, but A. P. Hill was a deep one. Any explanations had better come from her and not through an intermediary. Before Powell Hill left for Richmond, she had left instructions with Edith that if Purdue called again, she should be given the number of Powell’s cell phone and the switchboard of her hotel. “A. P. Hill is always worried about something,” Edith hedged. “She broods. Sometimes I think the calcium in Tums is all that’s keeping her alive.”
Bill nodded. Had he not been so concerned about his cavalier expenditure of his entire savings—some half a milliondollars—he might have pursued the matter further, but just now his own troubles were uppermost in his mind. “That’s why I brought you out here really,” he told Edith. “Sort of a second opinion. If you think she won’t like it …”
He had timed this speech to coincide with pulling into the driveway of the Dolan Mansion, as he now thought of it. When he reached the exact spot in the curve of the driveway where the white-columned house sat framed in the windshield like a scenic postcard, he stepped on the brake, letting the car idle through an otherwise unbroken silence. He waited.
Finally Edith said, “This is it? This—? You don’t mean that you bought
“Maybe, but I never was one for playing it safe,” said Purdue. “And it seemed like such a waste to keep you cooped up in there until you got old.”
“Old comes fast in prison.” Carla shivered. “They get like sheep, the institutionalized ones. Like canaries who think the cage is their home.”
Purdue nodded. “And unlike some of my old acquaintances, who are probably pillars of respectability by now, I thought that our present course of action might be more fun than what I was doing before. Lawyers get institutionalized, too, I think. Anyhow, I still think of myself as practicing law. Enforcing it, anyway.”
“How do you figure that?”
Purdue grinned. “When we take those guys’ wallets, we’re just collecting the fines for adultery and fornication. Just collecting the fines.”
Carla Larkin looked at her watch. “Happy hour,” she announced. “Let’s go and collect the wages of sin.”
“Yes,” said Purdue. Her eyes sparkled. “But this time let’s try a change of venue.”
“W e’ve passed all the restaurants on this road,” said Edith, looking through the rear window back at a hamburger joint receding into the distance. Then she looked meaningfully at her wristwatch. “And my lunch hour is over in fifty-one minutes.”
“I thought we could pick up fast food on our way back,” said Bill. “I want to show you something.”
They were speeding along a two-lane blacktop road that had slowly changed from suburban-commercial to rural-agricultural.It was the same route that Bill had traveled yesterday with Holly Milton, but this time Bill was the tour guide.
“Lawyers!” grumbled Edith. “With lawyers, you can never assume. At precisely eleven fifty-eight A.M . you said to me: ‘It’s lunchtime, Edith. Let’s go out.’ And I leapt to a foolish conclusion. Call me crazy, but I took that statement as an implied oral contract, offering me a moderately priced midday meal at your expense, but no-ooo.”
Bill did not take his eyes off the road. “I’ll feed you, I swear!” he said. “At least … I’m not sure how much cash I actually brought with me. I may have to borrow some.…”
Edith sighed. “Let’s go to the Gingerbread House then. They’ll take your check. They know you of old. Now what is so all-fired important that I have to postpone lunch to see it?”
Bill hesitated. “I think it’s better if I show you rather than tell you. Besides, there’s something else I wanted to ask you about—out of the office. What’s wrong with Powell today. Do you know?”
Edith shrugged. She hadn’t been told not to tell Bill anything about the PMS Outlaws, but A. P. Hill was a deep one. Any explanations had better come from her and not through an intermediary. Before Powell Hill left for Richmond, she had left instructions with Edith that if Purdue called again, she should be given the number of Powell’s cell phone and the switchboard of her hotel. “A. P. Hill is always worried about something,” Edith hedged. “She broods. Sometimes I think the calcium in Tums is all that’s keeping her alive.”
Bill nodded. Had he not been so concerned about his cavalier expenditure of his entire savings—some half a milliondollars—he might have pursued the matter further, but just now his own troubles were uppermost in his mind. “That’s why I brought you out here really,” he told Edith. “Sort of a second opinion. If you think she won’t like it …”
He had timed this speech to coincide with pulling into the driveway of the Dolan Mansion, as he now thought of it. When he reached the exact spot in the curve of the driveway where the white-columned house sat framed in the windshield like a scenic postcard, he stepped on the brake, letting the car idle through an otherwise unbroken silence. He waited.
Finally Edith said, “This is it? This—? You don’t mean that you bought
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