"Grateful?"
"Grateful for the warning of what is to come. Not everyone gets a chance to make things right." Jules gave her a pointed look, then left. Gloria stared after the old woman, her skin prickling. How bizarre that she'd accused Gloria of hiding.
"Sorry about that," Cecily said brightly. "My aunt is one hundred and nine years old—the oldest person in the whole state."
"Really? She's a very interesting lady."
"Yeah. But sometimes she uses her eccentricities to scare people, to make them think she's a witch or something." Cecily gave a dismissive little wave. "Don't pay her any mind. Now, what can I do for you?"
Gloria piled her clothes on the counter. "I seem to be having some bad luck with my clothes since I arrived. If you can't get out all the stains, I understand."
Cecily smiled as she sorted through the clothes. "I enjoy a challenge. Is the day after tomorrow soon enough for you to pick them up?"
"Yes, that's fine." Gloria moistened her lips. "From your aunt's comment, I gather Steve Chasen wasn't a popular guy."
Cecily shrugged. "I really didn't know him very well, but he wasn't overly friendly. He brought in his clothes a couple of times, but he complained about everything—the way I folded his shirts, the way I creased his pants. I finally told him he should find another dry cleaner, and he didn't come back."
"Is there another dry cleaner in town?"
"No—the nearest competition is in the city, but I guess he decided it was worth the drive. Whatever. For all I know, he could have been a nice guy who had hang-ups about his clothes."
"That's generous of you."
The woman crossed herself. "It's bad luck to speak ill of the dead."
The door behind them opened and Guy Bishop walked in, carrying a laundry bag. "Hi, Cecily... Gloria."
"Hello," Gloria murmured, noting the man's body language seemed tense as he handed a yellow pickup ticket to Cecily.
"Guy, I tried everything, but I couldn't get the stain out of your white dress shirt."
"That's okay," he said with a dismissive wave, then he gave a little laugh. "I'm sure I spilled tea or something on it at the shop." He gave her a flirtatious wink that made the young woman blush, and Gloria wondered if the man was bisexual, or if he was being coy. She moved toward the door to leave, but when Cecily turned around to the carousel of clothing hanging behind her, Guy smiled at Gloria.
"How are the repairs to your office coming along?" he asked as he pulled shirts from his laundry bag and heaped them on the counter. The shirt he placed on top had dark stains around the cuff—the health food store was indeed a messy place to work.
"We're waiting for supplies," she said, "but hopefully, Elton can get started soon."
He nodded, then cleared his throat. "Any news on funeral arrangements for Steve Chasen?"
He seemed to be going out of his way to act casual. "I told Chief Riley that I would arrange a memorial service after the body is released."
"When will that be?"
"I'm not sure, probably today or tomorrow. I'll be happy to let you know when things are finalized."
"Thanks. You can reach me at the store."
He was either being conscientious, or he was eager to see the blackmailing Steve buried. "I'll be in touch. By the way, would either of you be interested in taking in Steve's cat?"
Guy shook his head. "I'm not a cat person."
"My landlord doesn't allow pets," Cecily said. "Sorry."
"That's okay. See you soon."
When Gloria walked out, she smothered a yawn and checked her cell phone in case George had left her a message, trying not to read anything good or bad into the fact that he hadn't gotten back to her yet.
Although the tension was killing her.
On her way to her car, she walked past The Hair Affair beauty salon. The door opened and Marie Gaston emerged, waving. "Good morning, Gloria."
"Good morning," Gloria said, pleased to see the smiling blue-haired woman.
Marie's expression turned to concern, "I heard about the shooting last night in the square—are you okay?"
"I'm fine, it just shook me up a little. The police arrested a man they think accidentally discharged a firearm."
"Jimmy Scaggs—I heard. He packs a gun with him everywhere since he started harvesting black truffles to sell to Penny at the store."
"I heard something about that. It's rather amazing he can grow them here. And doesn't he use a dog to find them?"
"Yeah. And the fungus is worth so much money, he's paranoid that someone is going to find the place where he grows them." She smiled. "I'm glad you're all right. And by the way, I think you and the chief make a great couple."
Gloria blinked. "Excuse me?"
Marie covered her mouth. "Is it supposed to be a secret?"
A frown pulled at Gloria's mouth even as panic bloomed in her chest. "Chief Riley and I are not a couple."
Marie smiled. "Okay, I get it. Don't worry, mum's the word."
Gloria bit down on the inside of her cheek and decided to change the subject. She was half afraid to think about Zane, just in case Marie could read her mind. "Marie, Steve Chasen had a cat that needs a home. Do you know anyone who would be interested?"
Marie made a rueful noise. "Steve loved that cat. I have dogs, so I can't take him. But be careful who you give him to—there are a lot of bad people around here who might take in a black cat for some wicked purpose of their own."
Gloria winced. "I hadn't thought of that."
"Sad, huh? I love this freaky little town, but it certainly draws more than its fair share of weirdos—present company excluded, of course."
Gloria managed a little smile, although she'd felt nothing but weird since she'd arrived. She said goodbye and walked to her car, glancing around the quiet street and quaint homes situated just outside the shopping center.
A stiff wind picked up dead leaves and scuttled them along the ground, sending the nearly naked trees lining the sidewalks shuddering like frightened beings. She dipped her chin and pulled the collar of her coat around her neck to ward off the chill. What kind of strange wind blew through Mojo that attracted people with dark pasts, who had something to hide?
People like her?
Shivering, she swung into the seat of her car, then glanced back to the storefronts. Guy had exited the dry cleaner's and was holding an armful of clothing under plastic bags. He and Marie were deep in conversation—a heated conversation. Gloria leaned forward for a better look.
Judging from the way Marie shook her finger, Guy appeared to be on the receiving aid of the woman's ire. An angry expression crossed his face, and he said something, his eyes blazing. Then he turned to stalk away, but Marie shouted something at his back before walking in the other direction.
Gloria frowned. What was up between the two of them? Were they hiding something?
Was it possible she'd moved to the one place where everyone had just as many secrets as she did?
Chapter 13
The argument between the odd couple who worked for Penny—the blue-haired woman with the clandestine superhero boyfriend and the sexually confused man who might have been blackmailed—stayed on Gloria's mind as she drove to the other end of the shopping center and parked near the boarded-up entrance of her law office. From the turned Open sign, it was obvious that Diane was already in the office.
Gloria smiled wistfully. It would be a shame if she had to leave; so far the woman was perhaps the best employee she'd ever had. Gloria pushed open the door to be greeted with the aroma of good coffee... and the enthusiastic barking of a rather large bloodhound. Gloria shrieked when he jumped up to plant two dirty paws on her coat and bathe her face with big slurpy licks.
Not unlike the way she'd attacked Zane last night, she conceded wryly.
"Down, Henry," Diane commanded, hurrying in from the hallway.
The dog reluctantly obeyed, and Diane dragged him away by his collar. "I'm so sorry, Ms. Dalton. I hope you don't mind—it's
just for the day. He belongs to a friend who's in a little trouble. Henry here is still recovering from an accident and has to be fed his medicine regularly."
Gloria felt her muscles tense in frustration as she removed her coat and dusted off the telltale paw prints. "Diane, it's inappropriate to have an animal in a law office."
"I know," the woman said gently, "but it's just for today—he won't bother anyone, I promise. He doesn't bark, he sleeps most of the time. You won't even know he's here."
Gloria crossed her arms, wavering at the pleading expression on the woman's face. "Well... I guess we aren't exactly swamped with clients. What kind of trouble is your friend in?"
"His name is Jimmy Scaggs. There was a misunderstanding last night in the town square."
Gloria's eyebrows flew up. "The guy who shot off a handgun? I was there."
Diane gasped. For the first time, her face hinted that she was older than she looked. "I had no idea—were you injured?"
"No, but he took ten years off my life."
Diane made a distressed noise. "I'm so sorry, and I know Jimmy is sorry, too. He was upset—he said he found a man's body in the woods and was trying to find Chief Riley."
"I heard. Is it common to find bodies lying around in the woods in Mojo?"
Diane's cheeks turned pink. "No. Jimmy's a little eccentric, but he's a good, honest person."
The woman was obviously smitten with the man, Gloria realized suddenly. And when a person is in love, they overlook a lot of things. She knew that much from handling divorces for so many years. She looked at the dog with velvety, elephantine ears. "So this is the mighty truffle hunter."
As if he knew she was talking about him, Henry looked up at her and barked once in affirmation.
"One day," Gloria said, holding up her finger to the dog. "You can stay for one day."
Diane's face erupted into smiles. "Thank you." The phone rang, and she answered. "Law office of Gloria Dalton. Yes, who's speaking? Daniel Guess?" She looked up at Gloria.
Gloria's first instinct was to refuse the call, then she changed her mind and said, "I'll take it." She carried her coat and briefcase into her office, then yanked up the receiver. "Mr. Guess?"
"Call me Daniel," he said smoothly.
"Mr. Guess, I thought Chief Riley and I made it clear last night that Steve Chasen's death is a tragic accident and nothing more."
"I was just calling to see if you were okay, Ms. Dalton. I heard that there was an incident after I left last night—a shooting?"
A finger of alarm trailed up her neck. "How... how did you hear?"
"Police scanner. No self-respecting reporter would be without one."
"You must not have found the incident interesting enough to come back and do a story."
"Not when I heard Jimmy Scaggs's name. The kook is always shooting at someone—he shot at me when I tried to get an interview about his alleged truffle farm."
Gloria smiled at the mental picture of Daniel Guess turning tail and running through the woods while an unstable man fired warning shots. "Surely, Mr. Guess, there's enough news in New Orleans without you trying to stir up something in little old Mojo."
"Nice try, Ms. Dalton, but you can't get rid of me that easily. Besides, one of the most shocking stories of the year came out of little old Mojo. The question is," he said, his voice dipping to taunt her, "are you trying to protect the town, or are you hiding something?"
Gloria's throat convulsed, but she strove to maintain a steady voice. "Good-bye, Mr. Guess."
She banged down the phone, wondering if the man knew something about her or if he was simply pushing her buttons to try to get her to say something she would regret.
Gloria downed her cup of coffee, rolled up her sleeves, and threw herself into her files, so happy to be distracted from her own personal crises, she barely paused when Diane floated in and out to refill her mug. She scribbled notes on filing a suit against Steve's estate on behalf of Mona but idly wondered how much of Mona's motivation lay in the fact that Steve had been blackmailing her. Had he extracted a lot of money from the mayor? And what secrets had he threatened her with? Did the absence of information in her folder mean that Mona and Steve had reached a mutually acceptable agreement, or had Mona somehow turned the tables on Steve and forced him to abandon his plan?
Setting aside the disturbing thoughts, she called several of Deke's former clients and made appointments to finish work in progress: wills, deed changes, property closings. Tedious work to other attorneys, but soothing and normal to Gloria, who was accustomed to couples threatening to smear each other's reputations and tear their children in half.
A couple of Deke's clients had already secured another attorney, but most of them were happy to allow her to tie up loose ends. She finished a few projects and dropped them in her out-box, along with invoices that, if she had to leave town, she would never collect on, she admitted wryly.
On the other hand, until George told her to leave town, she had to conduct business as if nothing was wrong. She had savings to live on for a while, but she couldn't push revenue too far into the future in case...
In case things worked out, she thought desperately, knowing how much of a long shot she was betting on.
Just before 2:00 p.m., Diane buzzed her office and announced that Sheena Linder and her sister Jodi were there. Gloria told Diane to show them in, then stood and took a deep breath—Penny Francisco referred to her ex-husband's shack-up honey as a lot of things, "Litigious Linder" being among them because of the habit the woman had of suing for personal injury.
Apparently, the income from personal injury suits supplemented her revenue from her Forever Sun Tanning Salon, which, judging from the orange-ish hue of many Mojo residents, must be doing pretty well.
As the door opened, Gloria reminded herself to remain objective. Sheena's sister Jodi had been rescued from the horrors of her captors at the voodoo museum due in large part to Penny's curiosity and ingenuity, and Sheena had publicly thanked the woman whose husband she'd stolen. Maybe the incident had humbled her.
"Get away from me!" Sheena screamed at Henry, who stood with his nose imbedded in her crotch.
"Diane," Gloria said, a warning note in her voice.
Diane murmured apologies and dragged the dog away from Sheena's privates.
"I'm sorry about that," Gloria said, stepping to the front of her desk. "Please come in."
Sheena, now in a huff, was dazzling in her pink-and-black tiger-striped Lycra dress and pink stiletto heels, her bared teeth and blond hair blinding against her too-tan skin. Her sister, dressed more demurely in loose jeans and a sweater, held her head down, her long blond hair secured in a ponytail, her pretty face pale and devoid of makeup.
Gloria introduced herself and asked the women to have a seat.
Sheena posed herself in one of the guest chairs, while Jodi eased into a chair and proceeded to make herself as small as possible. Gloria remembered from the newspaper accounts that the young woman was only nineteen. At the moment she looked older than her years, and anxious.
"Would you like a cup of coffee or tea?" Gloria offered.
"No, thanks," Sheena said crisply. "We're kinda in a hurry."
Apparently, she spoke for both of them, Gloria decided as she took her own chair. "Okay. What can I do for you?"
"As you know," Sheena said, "my sister was subjected to unspeakable acts in that horrible voodoo museum."
Gloria shot a sympathetic look toward Jodi, who had tensed and refused to make eye contact.
"Yes," Gloria murmured. "And I'm so sorry for your ordeal."
Jodi's gaze flickered up, wary.
"Any-hoo," Sheena said, "we've been approached by a ton of Hollywood producers offering to buy Jodi's story, and we're having a heck of a time trying to make sense of it all."
Gloria's pulse spiked in surprise and, God help her, curiosity. "I'm no literary attorney, but I'm familiar with contract law and can at least help you narrow down the offers. How many do
you have?"
"Forty-three," Sheena said, then she swung a pink gym bag to the top of the desk with a thud. "I brought copies."
Gloria unzipped the bag and stared at the mound of papers. "Okay. But before I get started, I need to know—what are you looking for?"
"Money," Sheena said.
"Privacy," Jodi said at the same time.
The sisters glared at each other, and Gloria cleared her throat delicately. "It seems that the two of you have slightly different objectives."
"Completely opposite objectives," Jodi said. "I don't want to be the subject of some cheesy movie of the week."
"It won't be cheesy," Sheena said. "Honey, I'm gonna write the screenplay, so it'll be nothing but class all the way." She used her three-inch-long pinkie nail to pick something out of her teeth, then flashed a cajoling smile.
Jodi sent Gloria a pleading look—the young woman was in quite a predicament.
"Jodi," Gloria said carefully, "the unfortunate fact is that your story was widely covered in the media and, because of the extensive exposure, is considered to be in the public domain. A television or film producer doesn't need your permission in order to make a movie about your ordeal." She steepled her hands on the top of the desk. "If you don't sign a deal, they're likely to just make up the details for the sake of shock value for their audience. Your best bet might be to form an alliance with a producer you feel will be the most fair, and who will give you as much control as possible over the way the story is told."
"Told ya," Sheena said, bouncing her foot.
"That said," Gloria said with a little more inflection, "no one can compel you to share your very personal and traumatic story."
A frown crossed Sheena's face. "But with the kind of money they're offering, we—I mean, my sister—will be set for the rest of her life."
"A class suit has already been filed against the owner of the museum and the people involved," Jodi said.
"Those people are in jail!" Sheena shrieked. "What little money they have will be eaten up in their own criminal cases! The most you can hope for is a couple of hundred dollars from those crummy chocolate bars that me and everyone else in town is hawking!"
Voodoo or Die Page 10
