Mahogany Row by Wayne J. Keeley

Author:Wayne J. Keeley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Fiction Works
Published: 2012-05-03T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

“Did you know anything about Simpson’s dark side?” Sherry asked, in between mouthfuls of French toast.

“No pun intended?” I asked as I shook my head and drained my coffee.

We ate breakfast in Sherry’s kitchen. Upon our return from Topaz, I’d flopped onto Sherry’s couch, fully dressed, and fell into a coma-like sleep. We never had a chance to discuss our little adventure.

“I knew he was a womanizer. Everybody did. But I didn’t know about the kinky stuff. I didn’t know about a lot of things. It seems the only thing on my mind was making partner. I had tunnel vision for eight years.”

“That happens to a lot of attorneys coming up for partnership,” she said.

“Yeah, but I was consumed with it. So much so, that I didn’t see this coming. Even Barrett knew more about Simpson than I did.”

“Barrett is an ass-kissing geek.”

“Well,” I said, pouring another cup of coffee, “he’s a geek in the know.”

“How’s that?”

“I don’t know, but I overheard him talking in the john the day Simpson died. He was the one who suggested that maybe it was Simpson’s dick that got him killed.”

“Really? That’s interesting.”

“I didn’t put much stock in it at the time. But I would love to pick the little jerk’s brains now. He definitely knows something about Simpson’s double life. At least he knows more than I do.”

“What about Miranda?” Sherry asked. “If anyone knew about Simpson, wouldn’t it be his secretary?” As an afterthought, she said, “And she’s black.”

“I don’t know. Miranda is a straight arrow. She has a beautiful boy who just started elementary school. She’s married—or was—up until last year, anyway. She comes in, does her work and leaves. Close to the vest and low key. Minds her own business. And the fact she’s black has no bearing on anything. Ashley assigned Miranda to Simpson two years ago after Ruthie, Simpson’s old secretary, retired. It’s not like Miranda was chosen or hand-picked by Simpson.” I shook my head. “No, Miranda knows as much as I do about Simpson. Maybe even less. Barrett. He’s the key. He knows more than he lets on. There’s even something between Barrett and Ashley.”

“What?”

I took a sip of coffee and reviewed what I knew about Russell Barrett. I was shocked to find that I didn’t know much at all despite the fact that Barrett worked for me for two years.

“I’m not sure,” I said. Maybe he’s Ashley’s illegitimate love child. At this point, nothing would surprise me.” After a pause I said, “Maybe it has to do with Southgate.”

“In what way?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Cynthia Reardon will be able to tell us.”

“I forgot about her.” She looked at her watch. “It’s almost nine o’clock. She picked up the telephone and started to dial.

I took it out of her hand and clicked it off. “I’ll call her and set up a meeting. You have to get to work.”

She was indignant. “I thought this was a partnership? You need me. I thought I proved that to you last night at the bar.

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