Lie Like a Rug by Donna Huston Murray

Author:Donna Huston Murray [Donna Huston Murray]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9780986147234
Google: cyDhvwEACAAJ
Goodreads: 43599197
Publisher: Ravenhill Press
Published: 2000-12-31T13:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Friday, January 7, offered snow squalls, little eddies of soap flakes swirling earnestly around in circles only to disappear into the gloomy morning shadows. Our household went through a similar routine.

First Didi hurried off to open the Beverage Barn. Then, hunching low into their coat collars, the kids scurried down the street to their bus stop. Finally Rip trotted from the door to his car with a plaid scarf thrown across his mouth.

Abandoned in the empty front hall in the even emptier house, Gretsky and I glanced at each other with identical poor-me expressions.

“They’ll be back,” I comforted our dog, but he recognized a bone when he was tossed one. A very carpe diem sort of animal, he lumbered off to kill some time with a nap.

I went upstairs to make the bed and clean the bathroom, killing some time of my own until a more suitable hour for dropping into a business establishment. Eric Allen had summoned me not once but twice. I couldn’t put off our meeting any longer.

Five stories of gray stone block was as sophisticated as architecture got in Ludwig, Pennsylvania. The tinted glass double doors had plain black handles and opened with a whoosh of suction that vibrated two more interior doors. The lobby extended left and right to an internal post office and small bank branch respectively. Straight ahead across the gray-threaded white marble floor were elevators and a discreet set of stairs.

The people coming and going at that morning hour wore more business suits and ties, high heels and silk blouses than I had ever seen in town as a kid, but then the building contained mortgage and insurance companies, an appointment-only jeweler, three law firms and a travel agency. Mom and Pop could ignore this place for most of their lifetime and make out just fine. Unless they were well off or in serious trouble like Charlie and Birdie Finnemeyer.

Up on the second floor I pushed through the door with Eric’s firm name painted in white script. The whole office front was faced with tinted glass, showing me even before I entered that any visitors were already in conference with their attorneys.

The receptionist seemed intent upon transcribing something into a computer. That or she was listening to Led Zepplin through little earphones while she wrote her boyfriend in the Navy. Fortunately, she didn’t mind being interrupted. She lifted the right earphone and smiled.

“Eric Allen?” I asked.

“He’s with clients right now. Do you mind waiting?”

“The Finnemeyers by any chance?”

“Oh,” said the fresh-faced young woman. She wore a black suit with a camisole and had spent twice as much on her haircut as I could afford. “Are you Ms. Barnes? I think Eric is expecting you.”

“He’s been expecting me for a couple days,” I pointed out, and the smile broadened.

“Go ahead in. Third door down.” She pointed to the hall on the right.

I couldn’t get the words, but Eric’s voice wafted into the hall from a medium-sized conference room with a round wooden table in its center.

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