Motion for Murder by Kelly Rey Read Free Book Online Page B

less noble things. "I swear. Braxton Malloy ought to be cloned. What a man. Did I ever tell you he likes to—?"
    "No," I said.
    She blinked. "You poor thing. Here I am going on about my love life when you've had a morning from hell. Is there anything I can do?"
    "Well," I began, and she said, "I'm seeing him again Friday night. I don't know if I'm up to it."
    "I'm sure you'll manage," I said.
    "So." She blew off the steam curling up from the mug. "What'd you do last night?"
    I shrugged. "Had a few beers with my landlord. Cleaned my apartment."
    She grimaced. "That doesn't sound too exciting."
    "It got more exciting this morning."
    "Oh." Her cheeks were pink. Maybe it was the steam. "I guess it did. I'm sorry. Hey, at least he didn't have the gun again."
    At least. I had to get away from this stifling compassion. I got up and went to the kitchen for a piece of cheesecake. It was as good as I remembered. I polished off that piece and cut another, eating it while standing at the counter. It almost made me forget my head hurt. Outside, the rain had started falling harder.
    Missy came in when I was rinsing my plate, and since I was heavily fortified with all that fat and sugar, I decided to make a preemptive strike. "Listen, about that paper you took from Dougie's desk yesterday."
    "Oh, that." She rinsed her mug and put it on the drain board. "That was just something that belonged in a client file and had gotten lost."
    "In his desk?"
    "You know Dougie." She smiled toward the door. "Speaking of which, would you look at what the cat's dragging in? He's here."
    No self-respecting cat would sink a claw into Dougie Digits. He was wearing Spandex jogging shorts and a muscle shirt, and he was bulging out of both. Either he'd been out running or he was auditioning for Lawyers in Lust. Raindrops were sluicing through his chest hair and had beaded like car wax on his head.
    "Ladies." He stopped and stared at me. "Jesus, you look like crap."
    "We had a little problem here this morning," Missy told him. "Adam Tiddle came back."
    Dougie backed up a step. "Is he still here?"
    Missy shook his head. "He's at the hospital, getting his finger sewn back together." She patted my shoulder. "Jamie here fought him off."
    "With what? A machete?" Dougie slammed his briefcase down on the table. It popped open, and a dog-eared copy of Penthouse slid out. "You cut off his finger? For God's sake, Winters, he'll probably be lawyered up by the end of the day. And not by one of us!"
    "I didn't cut off his finger," I said. " He cut off his finger. But thanks for your concern."
     "He cut off his own finger?" Dougie snorted back laughter. "Dumb country fuck." He shoved the Penthouse back in his briefcase, slammed it shut, and hefted it. "Hey, what'd he have? Scissors? Letter opener?"
    I rolled my eyes. "A knife. He had a knife."
    "You don't say." Dougie scratched his armpit. "Wasn't maybe a Ginsu Knife, was it?"
    "I didn't inspect it," I told him. "Too busy trying to avoid it."
    He waved that consideration aside. "This might be a hell of an opportunity," he said. "We could sue the manufacturer."
    "Dougie" Missy began.
    "Obviously that blade's a hazard. They fail to protect dumb, country fucks from chopping off their own fingers." Dougie was growing happier by the minute. "We'll do a letter this morning, or maybe we should go see him. What do you think?"
    "He doesn't want" I began.
    "Whatever you think," Missy said.
    "A letter it is." Dougie nodded, satisfied. "Offer to represent him. It'll give him a little time to cool off. Wouldn't want him coming after me, would we?"
    It was enough to make me want to kill him myself.
    "Make me a protein shake. Will you, doll?" he said to Missy. "I'll be in my office, laying out a plan."
    Missy began assembling the ingredients for his protein shake. "He really looks on the bright side of things, doesn't he?"
    Uh-huh.
    "I really admire that." She sliced a banana into the blender. "And he's up to running four miles a day. He