Shotgun, Wedding, Bells by Joanna Campbell Slan

Author:Joanna Campbell Slan [Slan, Joanna Campbell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781547199464
Publisher: Spot On Publishing
Published: 2015-02-14T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 43

“I hate that man,” I said, as I threw my purse down next to Brawny. She was sitting outside of Hadcho and Detweiler's rooms, taking over for the guard who had been stationed there previously. I continued to kvetch, “Prescott Gallaway is worse than useless. He's a menace. How on earth Robbie could have helped him get promoted is beyond me! He sits behind a desk and sends other people to do dangerous work, but does he care about their safety? Not one bit!”

“Don't worry. I have it covered.” Brawny's hands were tightened into fists.

“What do you mean? Are you planning to stay here around the clock? I hope not because we need to figure out who's really behind all this. You said so yourself.”

“Hadcho and I discussed the matter. He's given me a list of officers he thinks would be willing to come and guard Detective Detweiler.”

“But who will pay them?” I felt like I was falling apart. All the emotion I'd suppressed during the service for Diya, all the disappointment that Sarita couldn't talk to me, all the frustration of dealing with the bad weather, and all the anger I felt at Prescott was taking me down.

Brawny shrugged. “I'm betting they'll work for free, but if not, Lorraine will handle the bill.”

I groaned. “She can't keep whipping out her checkbook every time I have a problem.”

“Sure she can.” Brawny smiled at me. “Kiki, she's richer than you can imagine, and she doesn't have anything to spend her money on, so why not? It makes her happy to help. Lieutenant Captain Gallaway was up here, acting all humpy. I heard him telling the man on duty to go on home. Taking liberties, I asked what he was doing, and he explained that the department budget didn't include personal bodyguards.”

“That man is an idiot.” I stomped my foot.

“Aye, he is. Just as soon as he stepped into the lift, I phoned Lorraine. She didn't hesitate. Believe me, the money doesn't mean anything to her. She'd be more than happy to die with empty pockets. Remember, she was there, too. One of those bullets could have hit her. She certainly understands the gravity of the situation, even if Prescott Gallaway doesn't. Come on. Let's sit down. You look all knackered.”

I like that word: knackered. It's British slang, not a Scot's term, but it sounds exactly like what it means to convey. I was, indeed, knackered. Tired beyond all reason.

Sure, I could whine and carry on about Lorraine's open checkbook policy, but in my heart, I knew that Brawny was right. A few inches to the left, and Lorraine would have taken a bullet to the chest.

If Leighton hadn't reacted quickly by grabbing her and tossing her off the gazebo, she might be the person in one of those hospital rooms.

“You don't think the shooters were after Lorraine, do you?” The thought horrified me. I sank down next to Brawny on the tired family lounge sofa. The cushions sagged from the weight of so many people fearing the worst.

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