Fools Rush In (The Sam McCain Mysteries Book 7) by Gorman Ed

Author:Gorman, Ed [Gorman, Ed]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781480462724
Publisher: MysteriousPress.com/Open Road
Published: 2013-12-31T05:00:00+00:00

SEVENTEEN

DEAR MR SSAMPSON

Please remit your bill, which is attached. This is the third time we’ve have sent it.

Sincerely,

Then, in light pencil: Needs your cig here, Mr. C.

“Cig” meaning signature.

“Think you could run this through the typewriter one more time, Jamie?”

“Was there something wrong with it?”

“Just a few things.”

“I really took my time with that one, too, Mr. C.”

“I just made little marks on it.”

I placed it on the edge of my desk for her to pick up. She wore a tight mauve blouse and a short tan skirt. She also smelled great. In the face of such things, what are a few typos?

The phone rang. I grabbed it.

No greetings and salutations. “Since you’re on salary, would it be too much to ask that you stop by my office?”

“I’d be honored to.”

“And I mean now.”

“Delighted to. Five minutes?”

“How about three? You’re not that far away.”

Just as I hung up, the mailman came through the door. His name was Henry Woolsey and he was an unabashed admirer of Jamie’s, fifty-some years notwithstanding.

“’Morning, Jamie.”

“’Morning, Henry. I see you broke out your shorts already.”

“Plenty warm for them. Too bad Sam won’t let you wear shorts.”

“Why don’t I just let her wear one of those French bikinis, Henry? Would that be good enough for you?”

Henry’s furiously flushed face contrasted vividly with his white hair.

“He’s always kidding around like that, Henry,” Jamie said. “He wouldn’t actually let me wear anything like that to the office.”

Henry started dealing out the pieces of mail as if they were cards and we were playing poker. I immediately saw what all the envelopes had in common. She just looked so innocent poised on the edge of her chair, I had to say it gently: “Gee, I guess I must have forgotten to put stamps on all these envelopes last night. Would you do that for me, Jamie?”

I was already late for the judge. Three minutes can go by awfully fast.

“I’ll probably be back in an hour or so,” I said.

Henry, the lecher, was already helping himself to the coffee. Young women like Jamie were in need of protection, no doubt, and Henry was only too eager to lend a hand.

He winked at me. “I like that idea you have for a French bikini, Sam.”

After I brought her up to date, she said, “My spies tell me you spent some time with Jane Sykes.”

“True enough. Your spies got something right for once.”

Judge Esme Anne Whitney’s office was one of timeless solemnity: deep leather chairs, rich carpeting, flawless wainscoting, two full walls of legal tomes, and a desk big enough to play a passing fair game of Ping-Pong on. It was always cleared off.

“Maybe you haven’t noticed, McCain, but the Sykes family is our enemy. They stand for everything we revile—or at least that I revile. And I assumed you did, too.”

“She’s cleaning up the police force, for one thing. And for another, she’s not going along with all of Cliffie’s arrests.”

“And she’s very good-looking.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed that.”

“I don’t want you to see her anymore.

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