Iced Chiffon by Duffy Brown Page A

car on the street. and it wouldn’t take very long to steal it, load the body. and return the car. It was parked on the street, and Hollis was working in his back office. He wouldn’t have seen anything,and framing him was a piece of cake for anyone who knew of the fight he and Janelle had earlier.”
    “That means the killer must be a man. Bodies are heavy, and you’re telling me all this because…?”
    “I want you scared. I want you to realize you’re dealing with some nut-job who can kill and carry on with life as if nothing happened. I want you to back off looking for this guy.” Boone gazed around the house. “Nice place, but it’s not worth winding up dead over.”
    I folded my arms. “This is Walker Boone being polite and considerate? You’re neither, least not to me. What are you up to?”
    “I’m just a lawyer doing my job, trying to find the real killer and keep you out of it.”
    “You’re a lawyer all right, clear through. You’re not here because of me, Boone. You’re here because of my mother. If something happens to me while you’re defending her rotten, devious, lying bastard of an ex–son–in–law, it could go badly for you when you have a case to try in her court. Guillotine Gloria may not look kindly upon Walker Boone, attorney at law.”
    At least Boone had the decency to blush.
    “Out!” I pointed my screwdriver to the door. “If you think I’m going to back off this case for your own personal benefit, you are out of your freaking mind. In fact, it makes me more determined than ever to stay with the case. I know stuff, lots of stuff. I can find the killer and not pay you one red cent.”
    “This nut-job is for real.”
    “And so is Judge Gloria Summerside.” I threw a black evening bag at his head that he caught in midair. Good reflexes from dodging bullets, knives, and the occasionalbaseball bat. Boone put the purse on the steps and started for the door. He opened it to Bruce Willis standing on the other side. Finally something was going right. I had a dog, a big dog. I had protection! I had Cujo! “Get him. Bite him,” I ordered, clapping my hands for emphasis.
    BW looked from me to Boone, grinned—yeah, BW really did grin, I swear—and jumped up with his paws on Boone’s shoulders. Tail wagging, he licked his face. It was that kind of night. The only good thing was, I could now tell that Bruce Willis was indeed Bruce and not Brucette.
    Boone did the scratch-behind-the-ears routine, and Bruce got back on all fours, looking happy and content and completely nonthreatening. “If this is your protection strategy, I wouldn’t give up on that alarm system if I were you,” Boone said as he walked out onto the porch. This time I nailed him in the back with one of my blue flip-flops. Revenge is sweet, even if it does come at the hand of a rubber shoe. Boone stopped and looked back to me, his eyes dark and serious. “Get the alarm system, Reagan. I saw someone on your porch looking in your window. That’s why I stopped.”
    “You’re just trying to scare me again.”
    “Yeah, I am.”
    And he was doing a darn good job. BW followed Boone outside, my guard dog retreating to his domicile under the porch, and Boone’s silhouette fading into the dark. Who would be on my porch at night? What did he want? Breaking and entering for used clothes made no sense at all. What was going on, and how did I figure into it? Then again, maybe Boone fabricated the whole thing trying to get me off the case so he could collect his hefty lawyer fee.
    T HE NEXT MORNING I WAS UP EARLY WITH BAGS under my eyes and a headache from too little sleep and nightmares about obnoxious attorneys in my house. That AnnieFritz and Elsie Abbott came in through the back door with sly smiles on their faces meant they knew about my late-night visit from Walker Boone and wanted the 4–1–1.
    “What were you both doing up at three in the morning?” I asked as AnnieFritz set a cinnamon cake smothered in pecans