The Ladies Who Lunch by Kate Kulig

The Ladies Who Lunch by Kate Kulig

Author:Kate Kulig
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: murder, mystery, new orleans, muffins, bookstore, mystery ebook, bloody murder, zo smith
Publisher: Kate Kulig


23

Orleans Parish Criminal Court wasn’t within walking distance, so I got there by cab. I was in a hunter green suit over a cream silk tank, wearing a pair of matching pumps that put my height up to six feet. The skirt was a decorous length, at my knee, but there were small slits at the sides to show off my legs. I have a lot of leg; there’s no point in trying to hide it. Still, I wasn’t wearing stilettos; nothing I was wearing was too tight, my makeup was its usual understated. I was projecting the image of a successful businesswoman here to support her employee.

I’d been in arraignment court once before, as the defendant. It wasn’t any prettier from the audience’s perspective. I sat through several defendants’ pleas of not guilty before James was brought in. He looked awful. He had a day’s worth of chocolate-brown stubble. His linen shirt was rumpled, and he had an angry black bruise on his right cheekbone. They hadn’t even let him comb his hair and it hung raggedly about his face instead of back in its usual short, neat, ponytail.

“Jessica Drew for the defense, your honor,” Jessica was in navy blue, her hair up in a complicated twist. Tisya was in a muted purple jacket and grey pants. She handled multiple files and gave Jessica a legal pad scribbled with notes.

“Your plea, young man?” Judge Gina Stamm was either a tired fifty or a well-preserved sixty. Eschewing bottled color, she wore her salt-and-pepper hair shoulder length, gently curled under at the ends. Her tone brooked no nonsense and her eyes were sharp with intelligence.

James stood up and looked her in the eye. “Not guilty, your honor.”

“Of course not,” the judge looked at the prosecutor. “On the subject of bail…”

“Remand, your honor,” said a voice with a country twang and I got my first look at Felina Dupree before the judge could finish her sentence. I hated her on sight. She was of average height with a bad bleach job that she tried to make hip by keeping it short and spiky. Her makeup leaned heavily on the eyeliner and she had a slightly hooked nose that the makeup could do nothing to hide. She’d be called striking instead of beautiful, but that wasn’t what set off my inner alarm bells. Her eyes were predatory and uncaring and went well with the long fingernails that sported blood-red nail polish. Combine that with the nose and she gave off the impression of a hungry hawk and James was cast in the role of delicious field mouse.

“Your honor,” Jessica said calmly. “The defendant has ties to the community, his employer is here,” I stood up and resisted the temptation to wave. “He has no record and will be better able to assist in his defense if he’s released on his own recognizance.”

“The defendant is a musician without a band and works part time in a bookstore.” Dupree said, as if James had been scraped from the bottom of her Ferragamos.



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