Thugs and Kisses by Sue Ann Jaffarian Page A

never let this come between us. When he was fourteen, we petitioned the court, and Lucas was allowed to choose where he wanted to live. He returned to Jill and me. Even though I discouraged it, he never had many nice things to say about his father or Cindy, though he clearly favored Cindy over Donny. He said they fought all the time, mostly about Donny’s drinking and carousing.”
    “Was Donny’s wife at the reunion? I don’t recall seeing him with anyone but Steve and a few of the other guys.”
    Sally shook her head. “I didn’t see her there.”
    The waitress came to refresh our coffee. I declined, but Sally accepted more. After the waitress left, she leaned across the table and whispered, “I’m not sorry the bastard’s gone, Odelia. Not sorry at all after what he put me, Jill, and Lucas through.” She paused. “And after what he did to you at the prom, I doubt you’ve cried over his demise.”
    “Truthfully, I haven’t. But, Sally, do you really think someone like Donny deserves to die?” I leaned forward, looking her straight in the eye. “Honestly, do you?”
    She leaned back in the booth and turned her face away. After a moment, she turned back and looked directly at me. “As harsh as it sounds, yes, I do.”

I was still pondering what Sally had said last night, that sometimes people like Donny do deserve to die, when I received a call from Carl Yates asking me to come to the small, private conference room on the next floor. Woobie was growing rapidly and had recently expanded, taking over half of the floor just above our main floor. Grabbing a yellow pad and pen, I told John I was going into a meeting and headed for the elevators.
    The evening before, Carl had decided two things: one, that the firm would file a missing person report; and two, that I would focus my time on finding Michael Steele, attorney-at-large. Carl had ended our conversation by saying he would run things past a couple of the other partners and give me the final word this morning.
    Arriving at the conference room, I found the door shut. After a soft knock, I was admitted by Carl. He motioned me in and closed the door after me. Seated at the small conference table were Marc Boer and Katherine Brown. There are four name partners at Woobie: Wendell Wallace, my old boss who is now retired, Carl Yates, Katherine Brown, and Marc Boer. There are a few other partners, as well, such as Steele; but make no mistake, these top remaining three rule the roost and are quietly referred to amongst the employees as the Holy Trinity.
    The Trinity greeted me with solemn faces as Carl asked me to take a seat.
    “So, what’s going on?”
    The question came from Kelsey over a lunch of pastrami on rye, fries, coleslaw, and iced tea at Jerry’s Famous Deli. The sandwiches are so large at Jerry’s that we were splitting one. Joan, our other usual lunch buddy, was grabbing lunch back at the office while reviewing documents.
    “Nothing,” I replied while heaping coleslaw on my half of the sandwich. “I still haven’t heard from Greg.”
    “I’m sorry, Odelia. Truly I am.” She looked over both her shoulders and leaned forward in my direction. “But I was asking about the office. I came by your office this morning to see how you were, and that temp, John something or other, told me you were in a meeting upstairs.”
    “I’m in meetings all the time—part of the job.”
    “Yes, I’m aware of that. But Ani told me you were meeting with the Trinity.”
    Ani Markarian was Carl’s secretary. “Ani should know better.”
    “It’s about Steele, isn’t it? Is he dead? Have a breakdown? In rehab?” She prattled on while holding a fry in her hand like a pointer. “I always thought he was on something—too nasty not to be.”
    I rolled my eyes. “Steele is not on drugs. He’s too much of a health nut.”
    “Hmm, you’re right.” She bit the end off the fry like it was the head of an enemy. “Then my vote’s for a nervous breakdown.”
    I