Devil in the Dock (A Robin Starling Courtroom Mystery) by Michael Monhollon Read Free Book Online Page B

room to work, watching Deeks trail after him, alert for any tidbit that might fall from the counter.
    “I’m trying something a bit different, actually,” Dr. McDermott said, taking a pitcher from the refrigerator. “I made the tea extra strong and have it steeping with sliced lemons and limes.” He filled two glasses with ice and poured them two-thirds full of tea. After going back to the refrigerator, he got out a liter bottle. “Then I top off with soda water and, voilà, sparkling tea.”
    He handed me one of the glasses, and I took a sip. “I like it. Not bad at all.”
    “How about a spoonful of sugar to finish it off? I’m going to add one to mine.”
    A spoonful of sugar is fifteen calories, but I was about to go running with Deeks and thought I could handle it. I held out my glass.
    “It’s really good,” I said, taking another sip.
    Dr. McDermott lowered himself into the chair across from me and sat back, his hand on his beaded glass. “So,” he said. “Tell me about your day.”
    “Oh, same old, same old.” I took another sip of the tea.
    “Come on. I’m here all day with nobody but Deacon to talk to. He’s a great listener, but otherwise not much of a conversationalist. Are you saying you spent all day in your office drafting documents?”
    “No. I don’t think I drafted any documents. I was at the courthouse this morning, drove over to the East End to prowl around a client’s house this afternoon.” I told him about it. He frowned at each appearance of the neighbors at the doors of the house and didn’t think the photos of Shorter’s homemade tombstones were as funny as I did. By the time I got to my defaced car windows, his fingers were rapping the table in agitation.
    “I swear, Robin, you do have a knack for ticking people off.”
    “And I don’t understand it. I don’t tick you off, do I? Deeks likes me.”
    “No. Maybe you’re not a threat to me the way you are to other people.”
    “I don’t mean to be a threat to anyone. I’m just out there doing my job.”
    “And as proud as I am of you, I sometimes wish you’d find another line of work.”
    I finished my tea and stood up, leaning over him to kiss his cheek and say, “Yes, Papa.” I went to rinse my glass at the sink.
    “You don’t have to wash up.”
    “Somebody has to.”
    “That’s true. That might be the best answer to my interfering suggestion that you find another line of work.”
    “Somebody has to do it?” I asked.
    “Somebody does,” he said.
     
    I changed into gym shorts and a running bra, hung my house key around my neck, and hit the road with Deeks. People were just getting home from work. Though Deeks and I did most of our running in the dark, we had encountered most of our neighbors before, including one old grouch who called after me, “That dog’s supposed to be on a leash, young lady.”
    “Hey, Mr. Carmichael.”
    He harrumphed as we went by. Deeks paused only long enough to sniff the air in his direction. No one else that evening seemed to mind that Deeks went tearing through their yards, or disappearing into their bushes, or wagging up to greet them as they got out of their cars or went out to get their mail. Some waved; some called out a greeting. One bent over Deeks and gave his side a rub.
    We did a three-miler. It would be more accurate, perhaps, to say that I ran three miles and Deeks ran six or more, dashing off to check out this smell or that, then running back to check on me. Once he charged at a plump cat sitting at the end of its driveway.
    “No, Deeks,” I called after him, but I needn’t have bothered. The cat didn’t react to Deeks’s charge other than to turn its head toward him and watch him come. Deeks pulled up short, not knowing what to do with a cat who wouldn’t run. He looked at me, wagged his tail uncertainly, then trotted over to run beside me for a while.
    “Embarrassed you, didn’t he?” I said conversationally, but Deeks ignored me, and, after a