Nothing to Lose by J. A. Jance

Author:J. A. Jance
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2022-02-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

“It’s about damned time,” Twink muttered impatiently as I clambered into the Travelall beside her. “Did you happen to use the facilities while you were in there?”

“No, I didn’t,” I told her.

“Well, I need to pee like crazy,” she said, “and we’re not going anywhere else until I have a pit stop, understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I told her, but the truth was, now that she mentioned it, I needed a pit stop, too.

Twink drove straight to a McDonald’s, where we both used the facilities without buying anything. I felt guilty about that, but after the superior burgers we’d had at Zig’s Place earlier, neither of us was the least bit hungry. Not only that, whatever McDonald’s had on offer would have been a real letdown in comparison.

There had been a line for the ladies’ restroom, so I beat Twink back to the Travelall.

“Where to now?” she asked when she finally showed up.

After my conversation with Shelley Adams, the ground had shifted, and so had my game plan. Roger Adams as he was now wouldn’t have the mental or physical capacity to pull off a homicide, but twelve years ago he probably would have. Regardless of whether he was ever charged or convicted, I wanted the matter settled in my own mind once and for all, for myself as well as for Jared and Danitza.

In my experience a man’s wife may think she knows everything there is to know about her husband, but I’ve learned over time that if the guy in question happens to have a secretary, she’s likely to know infinitely more. To that end, speaking to Roger Adams’s former secretary now moved to the top of my list.

“Next up will be a visit with someone named Helen Sinclair,” I told Twink before reading off the address Todd had sent me.

“Who’s she?” Twink asked.

“Roger Adams’s longtime secretary.”

“Wait, Roger Adams? Isn’t he some kind of big-deal criminal defense attorney around here?” The way Twink asked the question implied she already knew the answer.

“Used to be,” I said. “He’s retired now.”

“Is that the old guy who came to the door in his jammies?”

Since not much seemed to get past Twinkle Winkleman, there was no point in denying the obvious. “Yes, he was,” I admitted.

“Didn’t look like he was in very good shape.”

“He’s not,” I said.

We headed back into town. “You’re not going to call in advance and let Helen Sinclair know we’re on our way to see her?” Twink wanted to know.

“In my line of work,” I replied, “it’s usually best to show up unannounced.”

Twink thought about that for a moment before adding, “By the way, I booked a room for you at the Driftwood Inn. I already had your credit-card number, so I used my name and your card to make the reservation. That way they’ll give you my professional discount.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I meant to do that, but I hadn’t gotten around to it. But my room? What about yours?”

“Things aren’t what they used to be,” Twink replied. “Now all their rooms are nonsmoking.

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