The Fallen Angels Book Club by R. Franklin James

Avery’s recommendation. We’ve been pleased with your work, but the firm can’t handle bad publicity.”
    â€œThere won’t be any bad publicity. I didn’t do it.”
    Avery crossed his arms. “Hollis, can I assume the police were following up, since all the members are ex-felons?”
    â€œYes.” I wasn’t about to go into the manner of the deaths. “It was Abby Caldwell, my book club friend you met at the restaurant, who died.”
    â€œI’m sorry to hear that.”
    Ed dropped all pretense of commiseration. “You realize, of course, that we have an obligation to protect our staff and clients.”
    â€œYes. I’m not going on a killing rampage, Ed.” I turned to Avery. “You trusted me once. I promise you, I’m not involved.”
    Ed spoke to Avery as though he hadn’t heard me. “Perhaps we should allow Hollis to go on paid leave until this is all settled.”
    Avery stood. “Now wait, Ed. I think we should talk this over with the personnel committee before we go down any particular path.”
    I didn’t know how telepathy worked, but I looked at him with all the hope I could communicate.
    Ed continued to regard me as if I were a hostile witness. “All right. That makes sense. After all, that’s why we have a process for handling these things. Hollis, go ahead and go home.” He looked up at Avery. “Call an emergency meeting of the personnel committee for tomorrow morning.”
    â€œIt’s just you, Lisa and me,” Avery said. “Lisa’s still here. Why don’t I see if she can meet this evening? Tomorrow morning’s bad for me. I’ve got to make a court appearance.”
    I gave him a grateful look.
    Ed nodded. “Okay, that works. I have to be gone by seven. I promised to take my wife to the theater in San Francisco.”
    Avery opened the office door for me. “Oh, I don’t think this will take long.”
    Saying nothing, I moved past him. I just wanted out of there.

    At home, I hurriedly changed clothes before heading to the police station with Storm Crossing.
    â€œI’m here to see Detective Faber or Detective Lincoln,” I said to the uniformed receptionist.
    â€œThey’re out in the field. Were they expecting you?” She assessed me with curiosity.
    â€œYes … well, no, it wasn’t decided for sure. I told them I’d bring this book.” I handed over the copy of Storm Crossing.
    â€œI’ll make sure they get it.”
    Back in the sunlight, I didn’t mind missing another opportunity to bond with the detectives. The autopsy results must have been delayed. There was little more I could do but wait for another verdict about my future.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
    S itting in my living room, I replayed my conversation with Ed and came up with a multitude of more effective responses that had escaped me at the time. I was a wreck. Each passing minute I waited for the phone to ring seemed like an hour. I knew I needed to finalize my court statement, but I couldn’t focus. My life was back on hold until I heard from Avery. I couldn’t do anything even if I had wanted to. Why bother with the statement? I needed to be employed to qualify for the pardon.
    My stomach growled and I remembered my skimpy lunch. There was a frozen dinner in the freezer, but after reading what was in it, I put it back. My appetite just wasn’t cooperating. My emotions always affected my belly.
    I was debating making a PB & J sandwich when the phone rang, flashing Avery’s office number on caller ID. I made an effort to adjust my breathing to an even pace before I answered.
    â€œHey, you okay?” Avery asked.
    â€œYou tell me.”
    â€œYou’re okay.” I heard his smile. “Ed brought the personnel policy handbook and quoted chapter and verse on the ability of the firm to suspend or place you on unpaid leave for cause. I didn’t even