Defending Angels by Mary Stanton Page B

dead?” the other kid asked. He had a gold ring in his nose.
    “Not so’s you’d notice.” Maureen dropped her hand and made a hideous face at the cell phone. “Go on, you two. Get out of here. What are you hanging around making trouble for?”
    “Huh,” the shorter kid said self-importantly. “You know how much the TV stations pay for pictures of this kind of stuff?”
    “It’d be a lot better if there was a couple of bodies, Pauly,” said the kid with the nose ring. “Who wants to see pizza all over the floor? I can see that at home.”
    “You getting the message, Pauly?” Maureen said rudely. “You two, beat it. I already called the insurance company and the fewer people hanging around when they get here, the better.” She scowled at them. “Maybe they’ll figure you two had something to do with it.” She watched the two boys disappear into the thinning crowd, then shook her head and went back into the restaurant.
    A small breeze stirred in the street. Bree looked up at the sky. A thumbnail moon hung low on the horizon. A few clouds scudded past the stars overhead.
    It was as quiet as the grave.
    She trudged up the stairs to the town house, shaken, bewildered, and longing for sleep
    The phone sounded inside as she fumbled with the keys to the town house door. Sasha barked. Somewhere in the distance, sirens sounded, and Bree had a sudden, irrational conviction that the police were after her. Her mental equilibrium tipped further toward a genuine fit of the willies as she got past the front door and nearly fell over Sasha. She saved herself—and the poor dog’s leg—with a hugely athletic leap over his body and dived toward the phone.
    “Bree, darlin’!”
    “Mamma,” Bree gasped.
    “You all right, honey?” Waves of concern flowed over the phone line.
    “I’m just fine. I was rushing through the front door to get to the phone and tripped over the dog.”
    “Dog? You still have that dog?” Francesca asked.
    “Ah,” Bree said. “Things have been so hectic here, I forgot to tell you about the dog.” Holding the receiver to her ear, she put her back against the wall and sank to the floor. This pleased Sasha, who promptly tried to settle in her lap.
    “I think you should tell us about the dog,” her father’s voice said.
    “Well. He’s a rescue.” This was a guaranteed path to her mother’s soft heart. “And he’s a wonderful animal. Just wonderful. Antonia just loves ...” Bree bit her lip so hard she almost yelped. “I mean, if Antonia could meet him, she’d just love him, too. Here, he wants to say hello.” She put the receiver near Sasha’s muzzle and without much hope of a response said, “Speak!”
    Sasha barked.
    Bree put the phone to her ear again. “There! What do you think of that?”
    “I think he sounds big,” her mother’s voice said dubiously. “You remember the town house covenants. If he’s too big, Bree, you need to bring him on home to Plessey. As a matter of fact, when your father and I come in next week, we can take him back with us if we have to. Poor thing.”
    Bree looked at Sasha, who was getting healthier-looking by the hour, it seemed. “I don’t know. I really like having him around.” Suddenly, the rest of her mother’s message sank in. “You’re what?! Coming here?”
    “For your open house, Bree, for heaven’s sake. I knew you had too much on your mind getting your office set up. But now that you’ve found this darling little place, it’s time to let the professional community know you’re up and running.”
    “Now’s really not a good time, Mamma,” Bree said. “I mean, I appreciate the thought, but I’d really rather—”
    “We knew you’d say that. So your father and I have already sent out the invitations. He still has a lot of good contacts in the law community, don’t you, darlin’, and they’ll all turn out for him. It’ll be a wonderful send-off, Bree honey. You’ll see.”
    “You sent the invitations out?”