Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Clark wore a blue polo shirt with casual slacks, apparently not having court today. “Anna, this is Brooke Walton, my, um, friend. Brooke, this is Anna Albertini, my law partner.”
Brooke whipped her head up. “Friend? Friend? We’re dating.”
Clark cleared his throat. “You’re the one who said you didn’t want to be exclusive.”
I blinked. “Hi.” Walton? “Any relation to Gloria Walton?”
“Yes.” Brooke took my hand in a firm grip. One that she squeezed. “Your grandmother messed with my aunt’s pie.”
Just wonderful. I tugged free and glanced at my partner. “I didn’t know you were dating anybody.” Sans the girlfriend designation, apparently.
Brooke’s chin lowered. Oops. I lifted a hand. “We don’t really talk about our personal lives.” Although, I thought Clark kind of dated around. He’d offered to go exclusive, and she’d said no? Who would say no to Clark?
Clark swallowed, eyeing us both. His skin was a dark brown, his eyes an intelligent brown, and his posture solid. He’d shaved his head again, making him look tough, even in the golf clothing. “We’ve been dating for a while, and I’ve assured her that Nana wouldn’t ever sabotage somebody’s pie.”
Yeah, Clark and Nana were tight. They’d first met when she’d smudged him after he’d ended up with cremated remains all over him, which was totally not my fault. Well, mostly. Clark had then become my uncle Sean’s golf partner, and Clark was pretty much family now until the end of time.
I cleared my throat. “Gloria sued Nana, and I’ve already taken the case, Clark. My plan is to draft the Answer to the Complaint this afternoon.”
Brooke inhaled through her nose, widening her nostrils, still looking stunning. She wore a pink sweater with tight jeans and spectacular brown boots. If she wasn’t glaring at me, I’d study the boots a bit more and then ask her where she’d purchased them. Instead, I held my stance.
“That is unacceptable,” Brooke spat.
Ah. Well, okay. They couldn’t have been dating long, because even I knew how stubborn Clark could be.
“We’ve already taken the case,” he said smoothly.
“I’ll get to work on the Answer.” I knew when to get the heck out of a room.
Clark didn’t ask me to stay, but he did say my name right when I’d hit the hallway.
I partially turned. “Yeah?”
“Your cousin Rory brought you a new desk. He and Vince took out the old one.”
Interesting. Rory enjoyed carving new furniture and rehabbing old finds when he wasn’t working as a spy. Maybe. I wasn’t sure where he actually worked. “What was wrong with my desk?”
“He said this one suited you better.” Clark grinned, his teeth flashing white against his deep brown skin.
In front of my eyes, Brooke mellowed. I couldn’t describe it if I tried, but she watched him and her shoulders went down. Yeah, Clark was seriously good-looking in the golf attire. Wearing a suit in court, he made juries swoon. Smart guys are sexy.
I escaped down the hall, went past the conference room and restrooms, and paused between two office doorways. The one to my right remained vacant, while Pauley had taken over the left. “Hi, Pauley,” I said.
He looked up from a stack of files, two candles burning on the bookshelf behind him. “Hello, Anna. Have you discovered who stole Nana’s ornate boxes?”
“Not yet.” I leaned against the doorjamb, appreciating his perfectly brushed dark hair and ironed green shirt. An older laptop had been pushed to the side. “Have you ever heard of a Zippy O’Bellini?” The name didn’t sound familiar to me, but Pauley was autistic with savant qualities, and his memory and recollection far surpassed mine.
“No.” He patted the file folders into order. “Why do you ask?”
I exhaled. “He’s the attorney representing Gloria Walton in a suit against Nana.” Had she seemed to know his name? Now I wasn’t sure. Nana didn’t lie, so why was I reading into everything?
Pauley looked away. “I can research him if you like. You like. Like. I am not a detective, but the Internet is open for everyone. Everyone. The Internet. Not the Matrix.” He grinned and then sobered. “Could be the matrix. Maybe.”
Yeah, he wasn’t wrong. Maybe we were all living in the matrix. “Thank you. Also, see if you can find out anything about a man named Cormac Coretti.”
Pauley looked up at the ceiling. “Cormac is Irish Gaelic. Coretti Italian. Interesting. Like Annabella Fiona Albertini. Both. Irish. Italian.”
Was it the day for my entire name, or what? “Yes.”
“Who is he?”
“I have no idea, but if you can find him online, please let me know. I appreciate it.” I left Pauley, continuing down the hall to my office, next to the kitchen. Curious, I poked my head in to see a lovely maple desk with ornate carvings along the edges. “Wow,” I breathed, striding inside to slide my hand across the smooth wood. Walking around it, I noted drawers on both sides. I loved drawers. Tugging my phone from my bag, I dialed Rory and reached a recording of his voice telling me to leave a message or not. I did. Thanking him profusely.