Courting Disaster by Carol Stephenson Read Free Book Online Page B

one.”
    “Carling!”
    I spun and found Andy Lopez standing behind us. His curious gaze swung from me to Bill. “What’s going on?”
    I ratcheted a smile to killer intensity. “Hey, Andy. Just in time. I just learned a new joke from Bill. How can you tell the difference between a dead skunk and a dead attorney on the road?”
    Andy gave me a pained look. “I have no idea.”
    I winked as I moved past him. “The vultures aren’t gagging over the skunk.” I kept walking and did a wave over my shoulder. “See you gents later. Gotta go.”
    As I hurried down the hall, I heard Bill tell Andy another lawyer joke. Score one for me. Bill had another joke for his repertoire and a new victim.
    Rock music blasted from my cell phone, and I dug through my purse to pull it out. Spotting my office number on the caller ID, I hit the green call button.
    “Carling, it’s Maria,” my secretary said.
    “What’s up?” I exited the building.
    “I just got a call from Rocket Fertilizer. The police have arrested Mike Staminski for drug possession.”
    “What? How long ago?”
    “About an hour.”
    “Then I’ll head straight to the police station. I assume Rocket has contacted their bail bond company?”
    “Yes.”
    “Okay. I’ll check in later.”
    I walked quickly toward my rental Mustang, gleaming black and beautiful under the hot Florida sun. I felt my pulse kick up a notch, whether in anticipation of the Mustang’s power or the action at the police station, I couldn’t say. All I knew was that there was no going back to a sedate sedan for me. I’d refused any other make or model at the car rental place.
    However, not even the zippiest car could avoid the never-ending road construction in West Palm Beach. A ride that should have taken fifteen minutes crawled into thirty before I parked at the station. Add the fact that the desk sergeant took her sweet time dragging her feet to take me back to the holding room, and a good two hours had passed since the Rocket driver’s arrest. Plenty of time to work him over if he hadn’t held firm in asking for an attorney.
    Sure enough, when I entered the room two detectives in street clothes sat on one side of the table facing my client. I recognized both officers. The older, gray-haired detective had been on the force for years, while the younger man with a top-notch muscular physique had been his partner only several months. They worked well as an interrogation tag team. At present they gave all the appearance of engaging in a casual conversation, leaning back in their chairs. They both shot me a look of irritation at having their game interrupted.
    On the other hand, Mike Staminski was pale and sweating, the epitome of a man with secrets just begging to be revealed.
    “Gentlemen.” I smiled as I walked over to Mike. “I assume my client’s been properly Mirandized?”
    “Carling.” Detective Bob Sherwood, the older officer, stood up. “Sure. The arresting officer read him his rights, but Mr. Staminski never said he had an attorney.”
    “Uh-huh.” I squeezed Mike’s shoulder before I took the seat next to him. “He didn’t mention I was representing him as to the accident he had with his truck last week?”
    “He did say his company had retained a lawyer for an accident.” The younger detective, Marcos Hurtado, answered with an easy smile.
    “So it didn’t occur to you that he might want to call me?”
    Hurtado shrugged. “He said he didn’t need one. He might get fired by his boss if he knew he was in trouble again.”
    I glanced at my client. “Mike, is that right?”
    The driver squirmed, looking miserable. “I make no trouble. I need the job.” He spread his big, heavily callused hands. “Now this.”
    I gave him a reassuring smile. “It will be all right.” I faced Sherwood, who had sat down again. “What’s the charge?”
    “We haven’t officially charged him yet. He was detained for suspicion of drug trafficking. An officer stopped him for a