The Return of the Fallen Angels Book Club (A Hollis Morgan Mystery 3) (2 page)

Rena smiled. “Great, and she can pay you, too. Well, she can once you win her case.”

Hollis grinned. If necessary, she would’ve probably worked pro bono for a first client. “Well, there’s an incentive. Call me when you have something.”

They hugged.

Hollis watched Rena walk swiftly up the street to a nearby high-rise. Her first client: even the sound of it had promise. Now all she had to do was win.

I
t was quiet now. Jeffrey could hear the slow thump of his heart. He must have been unconscious. He knew he’d been shot in the stomach.

Agony.

He tried to sit up, but the pain pierced through his body like a red hot lance. He moaned. Even so, the hole in his stomach was nothing compared to the sorrow in his heart. He lay back.

Searing, unrelenting pain
.

He clutched his stomach. Why was it so dark? The lights in his office should still be on. Wait, were his eyes closed? He was too weak to open them. Would someone find him before it was all over?

He was so cold. The cold started in his feet and was gradually climbing up his legs.

He wiggled the fingers on his free hand; they still worked. That could be a good sign. He rubbed them together and felt sticky ooze.

Blood. Through the creeping cold, the warm blood was soaking his shirt and jacket.

His
blood.

It was oozing out like the slow and steady flow from an upended bottle of syrup. He thought about his life and how he failed. He tried to turn his head, but his brain was shutting down. His neck stiffened.

The cold reached his chest, and there was no more pain.

He prayed for mercy.

T
he phone on Hollis’ desk rang—a number she didn’t recognize. Rena had confirmed the meeting with Shelby for the end of the week. But maybe the young Miss Patterson had changed her mind about flying up to meet with an inexperienced attorney. Hollis had reviewed the Patterson trust with diligence to ensure the validity of the claim and the most expedient approach to liquidate the house. She braced herself for disappointment.

“Hollis, this is Gene.”

She caught her breath. The voice from her not so distant past hit her like a rock.

She stumbled a little. “Gene, wow, how are you? It’s been … gee, Gene … it’s been almost a year. What’s been going on?”

Gene Donovan was indeed a voice from her past. He was one of the founding members of the Fallen Angels Book Club. She smiled, remembering Gene’s blond good looks and his love of manicures. A columnist for a local paper, he was gay, and at thirty-seven, the second oldest member in the club. Thanks to his brother, the owner of a local newspaper, Gene hadn’t had to worry about checking the felony conviction box on an employment application. Like her, he hated small talk.

“I’ve got some bad news.”

Hollis’ heart skipped a beat. Typical of Gene: no niceties, just cut to the chase.

“What’s wrong?”

“Jeffrey Wallace is dead.”

Hollis leaned back in her chair. It was as if she was seeing herself from above and looking down. The shock was like a hole in her chest that didn’t show.

Gene gave her a moment to absorb his words then continued, his voice subdued.

“He was murdered, Hollis, in his office. Somebody shot him.”

“No, it can’t be.” Hollis shook her head. “He was one of the good guys. He was ….” She choked back tears.

Gene murmured, “I know. He might have been my parole officer, but he was also a friend.”

“When did it happen?”

“Last night. It came across the police log this morning, but I didn’t notice his name until a little while ago. I knew you would want to know and I still had your number.”

“Did he suffer?” Hollis’ voice faltered.

“I don’t have any details. I’ll call you back after … after I see what else I can find out.” Gene’s voice became firmer. “They don’t have any suspects. You know what I’m thinking?”

“That no one knew Jeffrey better than we did. We owe him.” Hollis said in a steady low pitched voice, “We need to get the Fallen Angels back together.”

After work that day, Hollis and Rena stood on the balcony of Rena’s condo overlooking the backyard and watching her six-year-old son Christopher play with Mark. Hollis could only imagine what it must be like to be a parent. She was relieved her own maternal instincts hadn’t surfaced.

“I can’t believe someone would kill Jeffrey,” Rena said. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.

Hollis agreed. “Without his help, I wouldn’t have a pardon. I wouldn’t be an attorney.” She wasn’t the weepy type, but there was still an ache in her chest that wouldn’t go away.

Jeffrey Wallace had been more than her parole officer, he’d been her mentor, and in some instances her guardian angel. If it weren’t for his strong letter of recommendation to the court, the judge wouldn’t have given her the second chance she needed.

Rena nodded. “Without Jeffrey, I wouldn’t have met you in the book club and you wouldn’t have introduced me to Mark.” Her voice turned solemn, “And without Mark, I’d be lost.”

“Speaking of the book club, I talked with Gene. I think we should call the group together again.”

“Why?” Rena turned to face her. “We’re a book club. What could we do?”

“If nothing else, say goodbye as a group.” Hollis looked away. “And maybe we could use our skills and resources to repay in part what we owe Jeffrey. He gave us our lives back. The least we can do is help find out who took his.”

“I don’t know, Hollis.” Rena frowned. “As much as I adored Jeffrey, I don’t know if I should get involved.”

“Should?” Hollis pressed.

“I mean, I’ve moved on since my parole finished. I didn’t need to get a pardon like you. I didn’t need a state license to do my job.” She swallowed. “And I’ve got Christopher to think about. He takes up a lot of my time. And now I’m up for a promotion and—”

“And who gave you the contacts so you could get your job at Barneys? I don’t remember Jeffrey ever telling us he couldn’t spare the time to get involved.”

“That’s mean, Hollis,” Rena muttered, looking down at her feet. “I can’t … no, I’ll be honest. I don’t
want
to play detective when it’s clearly police business and could be dangerous. Jeffrey would be the first to agree with me, and you know it.”

Hollis grimaced. Rena was right, but Hollis would have pushed the point with Jeffrey, too. She sighed. “Okay, I understand why you don’t want to participate.”

They turned back to view the game of toddler touch football.

After a few more minutes, Rena took a step back. “I hate it when you agree with me. Oh, what the hell! I can’t sit on the sidelines. I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in the mirror.”

Hollis broke into a big smile. “Are you sure?”

“I never did everything Jeffrey wanted me to do anyway.” Rena rubbed the back of her neck. “What’s a little risk of exposure? Besides, it will be good to have the Fallen Angels back together.”

Hollis nodded. She didn’t realize how much she had counted on Rena’s participation until there was a chance she wouldn’t have it.

“Thanks, Rena.” She patted her on the arm.

“Yeah, sure. So when’s the meeting?”

“Gene is going to contact Miller and I’ve got to locate Richard.”

Rena waved to Christopher, who was riding on Mark’s back like a cowboy.

“Richard, good luck with his paranoia. You’re going to have to do some heavy guilt-tripping to get him to come back. But first, how are you going to find him?”

“When we were going through the murder trial, Richard admitted that he didn’t work far from me. Except for
the fact I caught him in a couple of understandable lies about his home life, I think he just wanted off the suspect screen.” Hollis tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I’ll stake out his office building—as soon as I find it.”

The murder trial that had ended the year before had caused an upheaval in the lives of the Fallen Angels, whose past felony convictions were laid bare in the light of the six o’clock news.

“Do you have that kind of time? I mean, will you still be able to help Shelby?”

“Won’t be a problem.” Hollis waved her hands for her not to worry. “I have a young friend who can help me locate Richard.”

Hollis smiled to herself. This would be the perfect assignment for Vince Colton. Hollis was convinced her friendship with him was one of life’s left turns. She met the teenager during the weeks she was waiting for her scores from taking the bar. He was sitting in the lobby at the police station battling the aftereffects of detox, while waiting for his mother to be released from jail on drug charges. She still couldn’t explain why she reached out to help him, except that she had come to believe that everyone deserved at least one second chance. Since then they had become friends.

Now clean, Vince worked where he could, but he didn’t earn enough for him and his mother to live on. He’d been begging her to let him run errands and fix things that needed fixing, but she’d been holding back. First, at nineteen, he needed to finish high school; he still didn’t have his GED. Second, she couldn’t afford to pay him. And third, she couldn’t afford to pay him. She was accelerating her law school loan payments as much as possible, but it would be years before she would have any appreciable discretionary income.

But she did owe him. He had come to her aid when both their lives were in jeopardy. He risked his life for hers. After he came out of the hospital, his gruff street manner disguised the vulnerability of a young man who desperately needed a friend. She took on the role and never looked back.

Yes, Vince would work out just fine.

“S
o, Hollis, what do you want me to do once I spot this guy?” Vince seemed to inhale his hamburger and fries.

She’d caught up to him the next day at his janitorial job in a furniture store, and as usual he was happy to be treated to lunch. He was wearing his standard uniform of a gray hoodie, worn jeans, and a drab, once-white tee shirt. She stared as he chased lunch down with a single gulp of a sixteen-ounce soft drink. He could be the poster boy for fast food eateries everywhere.

“Maybe you should slow down,” she said. “Doesn’t eating fast like that upset your stomach?”

“Not as upset as being hungry.” He looked up from his plate. “I mean I eat all the time. I just have a big appetite.”

He wiped his mouth with the side of his hand.

“If you say so.” Hollis took in his tall, rail-thin frame. She dug into her purse. “Here’s his picture.” She handed him a newspaper clipping. “Anyway, if you spot Richard, just let me know. Don’t approach him. Once I know where he works, I can find out the rest.”

“Cool.”

Hollis’ fingers made water circles on the table. “Vince, you ever think about getting that GED? Things have started to settle down for you; maybe this is a good time to go after it.”

He frowned. “Ah, why did you have to bring that up again? I keep tellin’ you, I get along fine without it. Besides ….”

“Besides what?”

“Forget it.” Vince balled up his napkin, stood, and pulled his hood over his head.

“Wait, don’t go.” Hollis reached out across the table. “Besides what? Please tell me.”

He slumped back in his seat and stared down at the top of the table.

“Vince, talk to me. You said we were friends. Friends talk to each other.”

He looked up. A flush crept across his cheeks, but he was still unable to look her in the eyes.

Hollis sensed she should just sit and wait.

After a few moments he said in a trembling voice, “I don’t have the money. You gotta have money for everything … for books and, and … for clothes. I’m not a kid anymore. My mom needs medicine, and, and … the shelter won’t let us stay more than thirty days, and ….” He stopped. Despite his rapid blinking, a slim line of a tear made a slippery path down his cheek.

Hollis ran her fingers through her hair. Not a kid anymore. She doubted he was ever a kid. She reached over and put her hand over his. He jerked it back as if he had received an electric shock.

She put her hand in her lap and pretended not to notice. “Hear me out. I’ll make you a deal. I don’t have a lot of money either, but I may be able to get you a job at the law firm in our mailroom. It’s kind of a gloomy place and it doesn’t pay a lot, but you’d have a regular paycheck and maybe benefits. In exchange, you have to promise me that tomorrow you’ll look into what it takes to get a GED. Then, after you get your first check, you’ll enroll in a class and keep going until you get that GED. Like I said, the job in the mailroom doesn’t pay a lot but—”

Vince let out a loud “whoop” that got the attention of nearby tables.

The transformation of his face caught Hollis off guard for the second time that day.

“I can do it. I liked school. I can work for your law firm during the day and keep my cleaning job at night.” He beamed. “Then I can pay for my mom. Maybe we can get out of the shelter and get an apartment.”

His grin was so engaging, Hollis found herself smiling too. “Okay, then. Let’s get busy. I’ll check with my boss about a job. You keep an eye out for Richard and don’t forget, tomorrow I want you to find out what it takes to get a GED.”

“Let me understand.” George looked at her over the rims of his eyeglasses. “You want the firm to hire an ex-addict to be responsible for distributing our confidential client mail?”

George Ravel was in his fifties and looked every year. He was average in height and weight, and his hair was thinning. Still his clothes fit him well, and despite his warm personality, he was formidable in court.

Hollis smiled sheepishly. “Well, when you put it that way, it doesn’t sound so good. But I can give you my personal assurance that Vince is reformed. He’s eager to work. He saved my life, remember?”

“I thought it was you who saved his life?”

“Whatever.” She waved a hand in the air. “He put himself in danger to help me. He has integrity. Please give it some thought, George. If you can ask the management committee to approve the hire, I know Vince will fit in and do a great job.”

“Tell me about Shelby Patterson.” He pointed to the paper in his hand. “You want to open a client matter, but you left the space blank regarding retainer. Your first case isn’t pro bono, is it?” George glanced over the office form.

“No, it’s just that I haven’t met with her yet. She’s flying up from LA day after tomorrow. I’ll meet her in the afternoon.”

“You want me to sit in?”

Hollis sat up a little straighter. “No, I’ve met with first-time clients before.”

“That was as a paralegal. Now you’re an attorney.”

“I didn’t lose any skills. I know the routine.”

He chuckled. “Okay, counselor, you’re up at bat.” He handed back the pages. “File this with the billing section. Let me know your case code.”

Hollis gathered her notepad and files. “George, what about—”

“All right, I’ll talk with Ed Simmons about your friend, but no promises. He’ll probably point out we don’t have the budget.” He sighed. “I’ll do what I can. But I better get all my mail.”

Vince was true to his word. A little after five o’clock that day he called Hollis at work from one of the few remaining phone booths in downtown Oakland.

“Where did you find a phone booth?” She suddenly realized that he might have had difficulty reaching her.

“They put them near shelters ’cause they know some people don’t have cellphones.” He raised his voice to be heard over the sound of traffic. “Anyway, I saw your dude. He works in that building where you thought he did all right. I picked him out easy from the picture. I followed him, but he takes BART and I didn’t have the money to ride.”

“Good work,” Hollis said. “But Vince, you know I didn’t want you to follow him.” She sighed. “Never mind, thank you. I can take it from here.”

He was silent.

“What?” She prodded.

“Ah … did you hear anything about the mailroom?”

“No, not yet. I did ask, though, and I’ll let you know as soon as I do hear anything. I only mentioned it this afternoon. It could take a few days for me to hear back.”

“Yeah, sure, I know.”

She could hear the longing and hope in his few words. She said, “Things will work out, don’t worry. I’ll reach you through the shelter or the car wash as soon as I know.”

After talking to Vince, Hollis rushed to pack up her things and head for home. John would be at her condo around seven to take her out to dinner. She was glad he had a ride from the airport. She wanted the chance to get home, go for a quick run, and freshen up. She wanted to be at her best, and it wouldn’t do if she was too preoccupied to summon the proper enthusiasm over his new job.

Over the past months, with ongoing guidance from her girlfriends Stephanie and Rena, her wardrobe had vastly improved. They might say she was still a work in progress, but her ability to choose what brought out her best features was much improved. She was letting her hair grow, and her auburn waves flowed softly around her face and shoulders. She put on a belted, off-shoulder dove-gray dress, matching drape topper, and black, knee-high boots, which brought her height close to five foot six. As a finishing touch, she carried her favorite red clutch bag.

John’s appreciative look was all the reassurance she needed. Closing the door, he stopped in the foyer and held her at arm’s length.

He swallowed. “You look beautiful.”

She smiled a little self-consciously. “Why thank you, kind sir. You look pretty good yourself.”

John bent his lanky six-foot frame in a mock bow. With thick brown hair as dark as his eyes, olive skin, and a smile full of gleaming-white teeth that lit up his whole face, he was one of those people whose strength of character showed on the outside.

“You know we don’t have to go out. I can just sit here and feast on you … along with some takeout.” He took her hand. “There’s something I want to ask you anyway.”

Hollis’ heart went into a rapid staccato.

“Really? Really, something you want to ask me? Now that sounds mysterious. I, I think we should get some food first … yes, food,” she stammered. “And I want to hear about the interview.”

She took her hand back and tried to breathe normally.

“We can talk here, too, you know.”

“John, come on. I got all dressed up so we could celebrate.” She picked up her keys from the entry table. “Let’s go eat and then come back and talk.”

He smiled and sighed. “All right, lady, but you’re going to hear me out.”

“I will.” She flashed him a smile.

Perrio’s restaurant in Sausalito was “their” place. Away from the town center where the restaurants clustered on the water, it was tucked into a narrow alley and surrounded by several small jewelry stores. It backed into the hillside with a surprise direct view of the sparkling bay. Sailboats dipped rhythmically to the natural movement of the waves. The smell of the sea was pervasive and the slight chill of the evening air along with the soulful notes of a street musician’s saxophone added to the ambiance. The community not only drew tourists, but kept natives in awe of how lucky they were to live there.

“Welcome back, you two.” The maître d’ and owner, Jason, smiled and pointed them to “their” table next to the window. “Good thing you made reservations. We’re going to be full tonight.”

John held Hollis’ chair and then took his own seat. “It was only a matter of time before word of mouth would make your restaurant too popular to walk into without reservations.”

Hollis accepted the paper with that night’s specials. “I’m glad the restaurant has really started to take off. It won’t be our hidden spot anymore.”

“You two will always have a place here.” Jason looked back over his shoulder. “I have to get back to the door. Enjoy your dinner.”

The next minutes involved looking over menus that they knew by heart and debating the chef’s recommendations for the day. Finally, their orders were placed and wine was in hand.

Hollis leaned in. “Okay, now tell me what happened.”

“Well, I had just about given up on their making me an offer.” He took a swallow from his glass of Malbec. “I’d had four interviews that day. I felt like a machine. But I now know that those guys were my future team members. Everybody was given the opportunity to vet me because we were going to be working together for long stretches of time.”

“Wow, so how did they finally make the offer?”

He grinned. “You’ll like this. They bring me into this room that looks like something out of
Star Wars
. It has this huge, almost floor-to-ceiling screen. I mean football field huge. And it has desks with terminals that stretch down rows forever. My boss, Phillip—he insists I call him Phil—Phil pulls me aside, hands me a file, and says: ‘We’re going to need your assessment by next Friday. Orientation is at seven a.m. on Monday.’ ”

Hollis’ eyes widened. “Wow, that was the offer? That was it?”

“That was it. After six months of security background checking, physical tests, psych tests, and intelligence tests. Yep, that was it.” John looked around the room, trying to locate the waiter. “I’m starving. I guess the chef is running a little behind.”

“I’m not that hungry.” Hollis twisted the stem of her wine glass.

He stopped her glass. “What’s the matter?”

She sighed. “I’m sorry. I am so happy for you, but I found out two days ago that Jeffrey Wallace was murdered.”

“What? Who did it?”

“They don’t know yet. I heard it from Gene Donovan. I don’t know if you remember him—”

“I remember him. The newspaper guy, right?”

Hollis nodded. “Right. Gene was supposed to call me back today with the details, but I haven’t heard from him.”

“I should be able to find out something once I get back to headquarters.”

She smiled. “That would be the best. We need to have the details.”

He frowned. “We?”

“Ah … I thought the Fallen Angels Book Club should get back together.”

John shook his head. “I don’t believe it. Didn’t you learn anything the last time?”

He paused. The waiter appeared with their plates of food.

“The rib-eye for you sir, and our chef’s special tonight for the lady—seared bass.” The young man positioned the plates with a flourish.

After he left a thick wall of silence still stood between them. Finally Hollis said coolly, “What exactly was I supposed to learn?”

John closed his eyes and shook his head. “Look, I don’t want to get into an argument. I’m really sorry about Wallace. He seemed like a standup guy. I’d come to respect his work, he was dedicated and—”