Molly: House on Fire by R. E. Bradshaw

Author:R. E. Bradshaw [Bradshaw, R. E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: FICTION / Lesbian
ISBN: 9780983572077
Publisher: R. E. Bradshaw Books, LLC
Published: 2012-04-05T04:00:00+00:00

At fifteen minutes to five, after an afternoon of reading reports and drafting motions, Molly excused herself from the parlor table to change clothes for the trip to Rainey’s. Just before she left the room, Randy tried one more time to dissuade Molly from going alone.

“Let me go with you, Molly.”

“Tammy will be disappointed if you miss the catfish,” Molly said, as a way to brush him off.

Randy was behind Leslie, so she could not see him. With an evil grin at Molly, he said, “I guess I’ll just have to stay here and talk to Leslie. I’m sure we can find plenty to talk about besides this case.”

Leaving Leslie alone with Randy was a scary prospect, one Molly was not willing to risk. To Randy’s astonishment, Molly asked Leslie, “Why don’t you come with me? The investigator may have questions about Joey that you are more qualified to answer than I am.”

A grin slid across Leslie’s face, as she said, “You know, I really don’t like catfish.”

Now, Molly was driving out of Waitesville with Leslie in the passenger seat, out of Randy’s grasp, but definitely within hers. They both changed into jeans and cotton button down shirts, different colors, but nearly the same. They were both wearing blazers against the brisk night air. Molly’s light-brown tweed, English hacking jacket was cut very similar to Leslie’s gray wool. The only real variances in their chosen ensembles were Leslie’s roper boots and Molly’s brown leather, oxford shoes. They shared a laugh upon seeing each other, after emerging from their respective rooms.

Already through Leslie’s enthrallment with her car, and showing off the stereo with Billy Joel’s, “Only the Good Die Young,” Molly lowered the volume. With the music below ear splitting levels, Leslie turned her attention from the car to Molly.

“So, Molly Kincaid, what’s your story?”

“I thought Brad filled you in on my humble beginnings,” Molly replied, smiling to let Leslie know she did not mind the question.

“That was ten years of your life and it certainly didn’t deter you from reaching your potential. I’m more interested in who you are now, really. I know about attorney Kincaid. What does Molly do for fun, other than drive this car?”

“Let’s see,” Molly said, “I like to go to museums, all kinds, from natural history to modern art, but I prefer the Realist movement from the second half of the nineteenth century.” Molly stopped talking and glanced at Leslie. “I guess you don’t need that much detail.”

“I’m fond of the Wyeth’s,” Leslie said, indicating the details were not lost on her. “What else?”

“I go to the theatre occasionally, the symphony, art shows. There always seems to be something going on in the arts around the Triangle. It’s a nice respite from murder trials. It reminds me there is beauty in the world.”

Leslie turned in her seat, straining against the three-point harness, until she made friends with it. “From the pictures Tammy showed me, you don’t appear to have a lack of companionship and never have the same woman on your arm more than once.

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