Death Walked In by Carolyn Hart

Author:Carolyn Hart [Hart, Carolyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

In the marble hallway, Max gestured toward a frosted door with a legend in gold letters:

BRICE WILLARD POSEY CIRCUIT SOLICITOR

“You’d better take the Reverend Shelby in.” Max looked at Handler Jones, his expression rueful. “If Posey sees me, he’ll turn into a pit bull.”

Tall and imposing in his dark suit, the Reverend Shelby stood with his arms folded, a man clearly unhappy to be there.

The lawyer shook his head. “I’ll have to tell Brice how I found the reverend. You’d better come in. Brice will have some questions.” Handler’s easy smile was reassuring. “Brice and I were at the Citadel together. It will be all right.”

As a plump, blond secretary announced them, Handler led the way. Max followed behind the Reverend Shelby.

Posey was on his feet, hand outstretched, mouth spread in a good-old-boy grin. “Hey, Handler.” He sounded positively genial. “Are you hard up for clients? How come you’ve taken on a kid too dumb to ditch the murder weapon? Not even your golden tongue will sway a jury this time.”

Despite the warm welcome for Handler Jones, Max saw the same old Posey, black brilliantined hair, watery blue eyes in a meaty face, a beer-and-barbecue potbelly.

Handler was relaxed. “I don’t think we need to worry about a jury, Brice. I won’t even need the twenty-four hours you were kind enough to promise.” The lawyer pumped the solicitor’s plump hand with every evidence of camaraderie. “You had a good prima facie case. No one can ever fault your preparation.” There was great emphasis on the possessive adjective.

Posey stood a little straighter, lifted his plump chin.

Handler clapped him on the shoulder. “First-rate, always. As it happens, no fault of yours, the police work fell short this time, but clearly that was understandable since my client was less than forthcoming. But I’ve brought an unimpeachable witness for him.”

Posey looked past Handler at the tall black man. Then he spotted Max.

Max tried to keep his face calm and unrevealing. He didn’t like Brice Willard Posey. Brice Willard Posey didn’t like him. Their enmity went back a long, long way. Posey’s delight in charging Max with murder last summer set a seal on their mutual loathing.

Handler wasn’t fazed. “Brice, this is the Reverend Harold Shelby, pastor of Shady Grove Baptist Church on Broward’s Rock. He has important information concerning the Jamison case. Max Darling is assisting me.”

Posey looked sly. “When did you get your PI license, Darling?”

Max had no PI license. The sovereign state of South Carolina had particular and specific requirements for the granting of licenses to private investigators, including experience as a law enforcement official. Max insisted that Confidential Commissions was in no way a private investigative agency. He offered counsel and encouragement to clients seeking advice. He grinned at Posey, suddenly enjoying the moment. “In this instance, I’m working as a consultant with Handler. I was able to assist him by speaking with the Reverend Shelby.”

Posey’s porcine blue eyes glittered. “You’re going to push me too far one of these days, Darling.

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