Nickel City Storm Warning (Gideon Rimes Book 3) by Gary Earl Ross

Author:Gary Earl Ross [Ross, Gary Earl]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: SEG Publishing
Published: 2021-04-30T16:00:00+00:00

20

“I haven’t read your book yet, Ms. Wingard, but I’m told it’s quite good.”

“Thank you,” Drea said.

But I couldn’t help doubting the woman who offered the gratuitous compliment would ever read the book.

Statuesque, copper-haired, and sheathed in a tan cocktail dress, Chelsea Carpenter was about the same height and age as the man beside her, Randall Torrance. White wine glass in her left hand, she traded Drea’s hand for mine when James Torrance gave her my name. Her skin was cool to the touch, her fiercely intelligent eyes an iridescent green, her cheeks lightly freckled, and her full-lipped smile devastating. I wondered whether they were a true partnership or casual lovers and found myself envying and pitying Randall at the same time. Millionaire or not, he was so far out of her orbit he might as well have been in another star system. As were I and every other man in the room.

“So you’re the PI Randy’s been telling me about,” she said before sipping her wine.

“Whatever he told you, don’t believe a word of it,” I replied. “I’m much worse.”

“Somebody’s incorrigible.” After a moment she laughed and nudged Randall with an elbow. “You never said he was so intense.”

He chuckled awkwardly, one hand in the side pocket of his blue blazer, JFK-style. “I told her you were a war hero, Rimes, and an ex-cop. Kind of an old woman the way you worry about things but over all good at what you do. Matt thinks so. Mark too.” He grinned at me as if we were long-time friends. “They’re not easy to impress.”

“Neither am I,” she said, gazing at me intently. Convinced Carpenter would never skim a page of In the Mouth of the Wolf, I excused myself and followed Drea to another couple who were holding glasses and sipping.

Alvin Zachritz and his wife Arlene were both about fifty. A thin, bespectacled man with well-manicured hands, graying hair swept back, and sharp eyes, he had been county comptroller before being elected county executive. A few inches shorter than I, he wore a lightweight gray suit and was the only one wearing a tie—apart from the black-jacketed string quartet—two women, two men—tuning their instruments on the dining room stage. His wife was an inch or two shorter than he was, with a compact tennis body and brown hair with honey highlights. Her dress was off-white, her smile wide, her bracelets faintly musical. Both of them fussed over Drea, praising her book and peppering her with questions about what she had seen so far of Western New York.

“I spent the day at Canalside.” Drea sighed dreamily. “A magnificent place.”

Ophelia Green was still smiling at Drea’s comment when we cycled over to her and Judge Chancellor, she in a navy dress and he in a beige blazer. “An honor to meet you,” the mayor said, after I made introductions. “I’m happy you’re enjoying your visit.” After a few moments of small talk, she gave Drea a light embrace, and the judge shook hands with both of us.

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