The Court (Charley Sloan Courtroom Thrillers) by William J. Coughlin

Author:William J. Coughlin [Coughlin, William J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781466875913
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2014-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

The day had proved frustrating. Although he had learned a bit more about Pentecost, it wasn’t enough. But that was not on his mind. Now he felt nothing but a growing sense of apprehension.

Jerry Green drove along the winding streets, following the directions and watching for his brother’s address. Although it was already dark most of the expensive homes had carriage lamps outside and their glow made the street scene look like the background for a slick magazine advertisement picturing the ultimate American success: the big house, well kept, surrounded by expanses of clipped lawns.

His brother’s house was a two-story colonial with an attached garage. Both a front carriage light and a spotlight over the garage blazed in the night. It seemed as if every room in the house was lit.

He had never been here before. The house was something new. It had been so long ago, that exploding unpleasantness. He could still remember the shouting, the sudden eruption that had severed the bond between them. It was a bitter memory. He presumed it would be equally bitter, if not more so, for Hank, his wife, and perhaps even his children. He hoped the evening wouldn’t be too unpleasant.

Green parked on the concrete apron in front of the garage.

He stepped out of the car and breathed deeply, inhaling the crisp night air. There was a feeling of snow. None was predicted, and even though he had been away from Michigan for years, he still retained his native ability to sense weather changes.

The side door opened and Hank held out his hand. His other hand contained a very large glass. Green remembered Whittle’s remarks about his brother’s drinking.

“Hey, Adele, it’s Jerry!” Hank Green gripped his hand and pulled him inside, leading him down a long hallway and into a large living room.

She stood there. Adele was a different woman, much heavier, her dark hair streaked with gray, and she wore glasses. He remembered Adele as she had been, with a spectacular figure and a wild, almost wanton look about her. Now she looked like someone’s frumpy grandmother.

She took his hand and lightly kissed his cheek, but there was no attempt at an embrace. She had not forgotten.

“You look wonderful, Adele,” he said, drawing back. “Eternally young.”

She smiled but her eyes held no sparkle. “You look well, Jerry. You’ve changed. I really don’t think I Would have recognized you on the street.” She paused, studying him. “You look more like … well … you look like Hank. There seems to be more of a resemblance now.”

“She’s trying to say that you’ve become better looking,” Hank said. “How about a drink? What’cha want?”

“What’cha got?” Green answered, mimicking him as he used to do when they were young.

Hank laughed, reminded of that more pleasant time in their past. “I got more kinds of booze than the best bar in New York, Just name it.”

“Scotch.”

“Soda?”

“Jesus, we’re standing around here like we were at a convention,” Hank said. “Give me your coat and sit down.”

Green surrendered his overcoat and sat in one of the living room chairs.

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