long, satisfying
drags. She inhaled deeply, allowing the smoke to fill her lungs. Her head got
light from the nicotine rush. She stepped on the cigarette and ground it out
with her heel, then kicked dirt over the half-smoked butt, folded the glove,
and buried her stash under a notebook, a novel, and some pens.
She hated deceiving Randolph. At times like this
when she was under so much stress, she had to have a nicotine fix even though
she promised her husband she’d stopped smoking a long time ago. She wasn’t
proud of herself for fibbing. Okay, lying. Wearing a latex glove prevented
anyone, especially Randolph, from smelling the traces of smoke on her hands.
Nobody knew of her secret smoking. Not even Woody.
She turned the key and while the motor rumbled,
Rhetta tried to piece together everything that happened. She wasn’t imagining.
She clearly remembered what the gash on Al-Serafi’s car looked like: it was
identical to the one on the Artmobile.
Al-Serafi’s and Randolph’s accidents were definitely
connected.
CHAPTER
16
As Rhetta pulled into the parking lot in front of
her office, the front door flew open, and Woody rushed out to meet her. His
cartoon-character tie flapped in the breeze he created.
“What are you doing here?” Woody reached the car as
she opened the door. “Shouldn’t you be at the hospital with the judge? I can
take care of things here.” He held the door for her. Her arms were full with the
cleaning supplies she bought three days ago, which she hadn’t unloaded. Woody
wound up toting the plastic sacks with pine scented cleaner, while she carted
in the bags containing paper products.
“I know you can. I’m not here to work. I want to run
something past you, but I need coffee first.” She disappeared into the kitchen
and put away the supplies.
Rhetta filled a ceramic mug from the large pot that
was always on. The smell of fresh coffee always made her yearn for a cup. She
was the first to admit she was shamelessly addicted.
Rhetta took her cup to the conference table. Woody
poured a cup for himself, grabbed a handful of sugar packets, and followed her
to the table.
“Randolph’s been hurt badly. But he’s going to be
okay.” Rhetta stared at her coffee.
Woody opened the first of the packets and emptied it
into his cup. He followed that by dumping in the rest of the packets and
stirred the mixture vigorously. “Take as much time off as you need. Even though
LuEllen won’t be back for a while, I can take care of the office.”
“I need your help, Woody.”
“Sure, I told you, I can take care of things here.”
He raised the coffee mug to his lips.
“Not the office. I know you’re fine here.” Rhetta
stirred her coffee then took a sip. It was still piping hot, requiring her to
blow across the surface of the liquid. “I need to bounce something off you.”
She explained about the empty Jim Beam bottle and
the pending DUI charges against Randolph, the missing manila envelope, and,
most significantly, the scratches on the truck.
“Sounds to me like someone ran Randolph off the road
and you think that’s what happened to Al-Serafi.” Woody tore open more sugar
packets, and dumped them into his coffee. He stirred, the metal spoon clanking
against the side of the cup. Normally, the noise irked her. Now, it didn’t seem
important.
Rhetta set her cup down. “That they both got run off
the road is significant. This isn’t a happenstance.”
Woody cleared his throat. “I hate to bring this up.
I heard on the news that the judge’s blood level tested high.”
Rhetta’s stomach knotted. Great. Now it’s all
over the news . “Randolph probably had a drink or two at home before he came
here yesterday, but I know he didn’t have anything else to drink after noon.”
She shook her head for emphasis and ran her hands through her hair.
She stood, changing the subject. She didn’t enjoy
being the object of gossip. Woody, God love him, loved gossip.
drags. She inhaled deeply, allowing the smoke to fill her lungs. Her head got
light from the nicotine rush. She stepped on the cigarette and ground it out
with her heel, then kicked dirt over the half-smoked butt, folded the glove,
and buried her stash under a notebook, a novel, and some pens.
She hated deceiving Randolph. At times like this
when she was under so much stress, she had to have a nicotine fix even though
she promised her husband she’d stopped smoking a long time ago. She wasn’t
proud of herself for fibbing. Okay, lying. Wearing a latex glove prevented
anyone, especially Randolph, from smelling the traces of smoke on her hands.
Nobody knew of her secret smoking. Not even Woody.
She turned the key and while the motor rumbled,
Rhetta tried to piece together everything that happened. She wasn’t imagining.
She clearly remembered what the gash on Al-Serafi’s car looked like: it was
identical to the one on the Artmobile.
Al-Serafi’s and Randolph’s accidents were definitely
connected.
CHAPTER
16
As Rhetta pulled into the parking lot in front of
her office, the front door flew open, and Woody rushed out to meet her. His
cartoon-character tie flapped in the breeze he created.
“What are you doing here?” Woody reached the car as
she opened the door. “Shouldn’t you be at the hospital with the judge? I can
take care of things here.” He held the door for her. Her arms were full with the
cleaning supplies she bought three days ago, which she hadn’t unloaded. Woody
wound up toting the plastic sacks with pine scented cleaner, while she carted
in the bags containing paper products.
“I know you can. I’m not here to work. I want to run
something past you, but I need coffee first.” She disappeared into the kitchen
and put away the supplies.
Rhetta filled a ceramic mug from the large pot that
was always on. The smell of fresh coffee always made her yearn for a cup. She
was the first to admit she was shamelessly addicted.
Rhetta took her cup to the conference table. Woody
poured a cup for himself, grabbed a handful of sugar packets, and followed her
to the table.
“Randolph’s been hurt badly. But he’s going to be
okay.” Rhetta stared at her coffee.
Woody opened the first of the packets and emptied it
into his cup. He followed that by dumping in the rest of the packets and
stirred the mixture vigorously. “Take as much time off as you need. Even though
LuEllen won’t be back for a while, I can take care of the office.”
“I need your help, Woody.”
“Sure, I told you, I can take care of things here.”
He raised the coffee mug to his lips.
“Not the office. I know you’re fine here.” Rhetta
stirred her coffee then took a sip. It was still piping hot, requiring her to
blow across the surface of the liquid. “I need to bounce something off you.”
She explained about the empty Jim Beam bottle and
the pending DUI charges against Randolph, the missing manila envelope, and,
most significantly, the scratches on the truck.
“Sounds to me like someone ran Randolph off the road
and you think that’s what happened to Al-Serafi.” Woody tore open more sugar
packets, and dumped them into his coffee. He stirred, the metal spoon clanking
against the side of the cup. Normally, the noise irked her. Now, it didn’t seem
important.
Rhetta set her cup down. “That they both got run off
the road is significant. This isn’t a happenstance.”
Woody cleared his throat. “I hate to bring this up.
I heard on the news that the judge’s blood level tested high.”
Rhetta’s stomach knotted. Great. Now it’s all
over the news . “Randolph probably had a drink or two at home before he came
here yesterday, but I know he didn’t have anything else to drink after noon.”
She shook her head for emphasis and ran her hands through her hair.
She stood, changing the subject. She didn’t enjoy
being the object of gossip. Woody, God love him, loved gossip.
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