Her face glowed with a huge smile and she held out her right arm, IVs and all. He squeezed her fragile, bony hand and whispered, “How are you doing?”

  “Much better now,” she said warmly and with a voice stronger than he expected. “Thanks for stopping by again, Simon.”

  It was his third visit of the day. He glanced at the counter near her bed. There were three bouquets of flowers, all sent by his office.

  “Any other visitors?” he asked. As always, he was afraid Wally Thackerman or some other lawyer might be slithering around.

  “No, no one but you,” she said sadly.

  “I stopped by your house. Everything is fine. Your neighbors, Norris and Rose, knocked on the door.”

  “What did they want?”

  “Nothing, just saw my car and thought they should check into things. I told them I was your lawyer and things were fine.”

  “He’s okay. She’s rather snooty, thinks she’s a notch above. They tried to join the country club but couldn’t get in.”

  Simon really didn’t care. “They were very nice. Just curious.”

  “Too curious.” She muted the television and said, “Pull up a chair and let’s talk. I’m worried sick about this accident, Simon. I don’t think it was my fault.”

  He wrestled the chair over and squeezed into it.

  “Are those people okay? The ones in the other car?”

  “They’ll be fine,” he said. Both had broken bones and were missing work. They would hire a lawyer, and when they realized she had no insurance, they would probably file suit. However, at the moment, Simon wasn’t worried about litigation, for now he knew the truth about Netty’s assets. He could easily negotiate a generous settlement and put the matter to rest. As for the DUI, he couldn’t make it go away, but he doubted the prosecutor would be too harsh, given her age. Plus, Simon would offer to pay a huge fine. Money usually allowed the guilty to get off light.

  How pleasant it is to have money, he thought.

  “How’s the food?” he asked.

  “Dreadful. Typical hospital stuff.”

  “Okay, what do you want? How about some egg rolls from that Korean place? Or Chinese dumplings? We’ve tried everything in town.”

  “What a marvelous idea, Simon. I’ll take a bunch of egg rolls, those stuffed with shrimp.”

  “You got ’em. I’ll be there when they open in the morning.”

  “What would I do without you, Simon?”

  Chapter 26

  Two days before Christmas, Matilda announced that she was leaving an hour early to do some shopping. Since the legal profession was known for loafing through half of December anyway, the office was quiet, and Simon didn’t care when she left. He was re-drafting some leases for a real estate client, work that was so dull he’d been putting it off for a month. He was determined to finish it now and not punt it into 2016, a year that promised to be just as tedious and unproductive as the present, unless, of course, some lucrative estate work popped up. Eleanor Barnett’s estate. He shook his head as he once again thought of the hours he had wasted dreaming of her death.

  When he looked up and saw his secretary he said, “I thought you were gone.”

  “I was leaving when a man walked in.”

  “I’m not showing any appointments.”

  “He doesn’t have one.”

  “Then get rid of him.” Simon had learned years earlier that the drop-ins were both bothersome and broke. They never brought their checkbooks.

  “You should make time for this guy.” She looked uneasy.

  “Who is it?”

  “Name’s Jerry Korsak. Brother of Clyde. Stepson of you know who. I don’t think he’s leaving.”

  “Does he appear to be violent?” Simon asked as he quietly pulled open a drawer and glanced at his .38.

  “No, actually he’s rather polite. Wears a tie.”

  Simon was not wearing one. He took a deep breath as reality set in. “Okay. Can you break it up in thirty minutes?”

  “I’m going shopping, remember?”

  “Right. Call me in thirty minutes with some urgent matter.”

  “Will do.”

  Simon paused for a second and checked the drawer again. He shook his head and said, “I’ll be okay.”

  “I can’t shoot like Fran but I can make some noise.”

  Both of them chuckled at the legend of Fran. Her threat to blast off Clyde’s testicles was still good for a laugh around town. Simon said, “Thanks, but I’m fine.”

  “Okay. And I’ll run by the hospital and see Eleanor. I made her some brownies and have a few other things. Poor lady doesn’t see many visitors.”

  “Thanks for doing that, Tillie. She’s a dear old woman in a lot of trouble.”

  * * *

  The necktie was smartly knotted and went nicely with a plaid shirt and wool blazer. Jerry was in his early fifties, lean, cleanshaven, and well groomed. Simon had seen Clyde in the courtroom the day after he slugged poor Wally, and the difference between the brothers was startling.

  Jerry said he was living in the “D.C. area” and working for a government contractor, which narrowed things down to around five million people. Simon didn’t probe because he didn’t want to seem interested, and also, he quickly learned that every answer was vague. As they chatted awkwardly and sipped coffee, Simon tried desperately to figure out if Jerry knew Eleanor was in the hospital, and if so, then who told him. He referred to her as “Mom.” Clyde had used “Momma.” They couldn’t keep their lies straight. After a few minutes of light conversation, Simon was convinced he could not believe a word Jerry said. He was shifty-eyed, blinked a lot, and had trouble looking at Simon and holding a gaze.

  Finally, Simon asked, “What brings you to Braxton?”

  “Oh, well, uh, Mom called last night, told me about her accident, asked me to come check on her.”

  Simon absorbed this with a hard stare, as if it wasn’t true and he wanted Jerry to know it was a lie. “Who told you I was Eleanor’s lawyer?”

  “A nurse at the hospital.”

  “Really? Which one?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Didn’t take notes.”

  “So, you’ve been to the hospital?”

  “Just left. Mom seems to be doing fine, don’t you think?”

  “I suppose. She got banged up pretty bad.”

  “I’m thinking of spending Christmas with her.”

  “In the hospital?”

  “No, she says she’s going home tomorrow. I figure she’ll need me around the house to help out, you know?”

  “She’s not going anywhere. She can’t even walk yet.”

  Jerry tried to laugh, his first effort at that, and said, “Well, someone needs to tell her.”

  “I talked to her doctor this morning,” Simon said, controlling himself. “They’ll move her to a rehab unit in a day or so and start working with her legs. She won’t be home anytime soon.” The idea of Jerry in the house was unsettling, though Simon had removed as much sensitive material as possible. It was all locked up in a drawer ten feet from his desk.

  “Okay,” Jerry said, eyes darting even quicker, then he blurted, “Does she have a current will?”

  “You’ll have to ask her. I can’t discuss client matters.”

  “She’s my stepmother, the widow of my father. You can at least tell me if she has a current will.”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Because my father promised me and Clyde a nice gift in the estate.”

  “He died ten years ago.”

  “Right, and he forgot about the gift. We’ve always figured Mom would make things right in her will.”

  “How often do you see Eleanor?”

  “Uh, well, not much. I’ve been living down in Florida and it’s a long ways off, you know? But we talk all the time on the phone.”

  Simon had inspected her phone records and checked every long-distance call she’d made in the past year. Another lie. “That’s odd, because I’ve known Eleanor since March and she’s never said anything about having a conversation with you.”

  “Are you calling me a liar?”

  “No sir, I am not.”

  Evidently, Jerry was not as hotheaded as his brother. He shrugged and put down his coffee cup. “Fair enough. I just wanted to say hello and let you know that I’m only an hour away, should you need me.”

  Simon had a dozen responses but managed to keep it pleasant with a simple “Thanks.” He could not imagine any turn of events that would cause him to “need” the man. His sudden appearance was trouble.

  After he left, Simon sat for a long time and tried to analyze the visit. Nothing made sense. An hour later, driving to the hospital, Simon decided not to mention the episode. If Eleanor brought it up he might quiz her. If she said nothing about it, he would assume Jerry was lying.

  Loretta Goodwin met him in the hallway and said it was a bad time to visit. Eleanor was asleep and had not been feeling well. Her breathing was labored, her blood pressure was erratic, and she needed some rest.

  “Has she had any visitors today?” Simon asked.

  “I haven’t seen any.”

  “Any lawyers snooping around?”

  “As a matter of fact.” Loretta pulled a business card out of a pocket and handed it over. “You know this guy?”

  Simon looked at the card. It could’ve been worse. “Yeah, afraid so.”

  “He left about an hour ago.”

  “Thanks. I’ll hang around in the cafeteria for a while. If she wakes up, come fetch me.”

  “That’s what I live for.”

  Chapter 27

  On the morning of Christmas Eve, Simon went to the house he once called home and said goodbye to his family. Paula and the children were packing up for the two-hour drive to Richmond where they would spend a couple of nights with their grandparents. Paula planned to wait until the day after Christmas to break the news about the divorce. Simon was still kicking the can with his mother and stepfather, who he had no plans to see until after the New Year.

  The kids were in the holiday spirit and looking forward to seeing their grandparents. Two cousins lived close by and they enjoyed their time together. Simon was delighted to miss the trip.

  After they left, he locked the house and went to check on Eleanor’s. Ming’s Chinese restaurant opened at eleven, and he was the first customer there. For carryout, he ordered two large portions of shrimp spring rolls and a box of crunchy rice cakes. He drove to the hospital and found Eleanor in a wheelchair singing carols with a dozen other patients in the small chapel. A youth minister from the Methodist church was leading them as he banged on the piano. Simon waited in the lobby and checked the Vegas line on football games.

  For lunch he pushed her to the cafeteria and found a table with a nice view of the mountains. He unwrapped the spring rolls and poured honey on the side. She took two bites and seemed bored.

  Eleanor was not herself. The head bandage was gone and the stitched wound looked awful. Not for the first time, he wondered how much damage the blow had caused. And he wondered how much of a toll the meds were taking. Her left leg was practically useless and would require hours of rehab before she could walk. She fretted over her legal problems and cried at the thought of causing the accident that hurt two others. Her speech was slow, her recall fuzzy. She coughed a lot and made noise when she breathed. Her nurse said they were worried about her fevers and headaches.

  She said over and over, “Sy, please promise me I won’t go to jail.”

  “I promise. You have my word.”

  And she wasn’t going to jail. He had talked to the prosecutor several times and they were working out a deal. No one wanted her behind bars. Officer Pully had been reined in and was no longer threatening handcuffs.

  She showed a bit more interest in the crunchy rice cakes, and Simon fetched some coffee. She ate one and nibbled on another before giving up. When she said she was tired, Simon pushed her back to her room and waited in the hall while two orderlies put her to bed. She was already asleep when he entered the room and quietly took a seat.

  On the table near the bed, there were five floral arrangements, four from his office and one from a person he didn’t know. There were four get-well cards, a platter of untouched brownies, and two boxes of Saigon ginger cookies from Tan Lu’s.

  Her breathing was heavy, even labored at times, but the monitors were not alarmed. Then she became quiet and slept peacefully. He wondered if the only other guest, other than himself and Tillie, had been Jerry Korsak. Did that clown really stop by this room, or was he lying? What was his game?

  Simon closed his eyes and could see trouble around every corner.

  * * *

  He couldn’t nap in the torture chair and was soon bored with waiting. As he was leaving the hospital, his luck changed dramatically with a phone call. It was Landy, who began with “Ho, Ho, Ho. How’s your Christmas?”

  “Ho right back. Doing swell, and you?”

  “Delightful. Are you making big plans?”

  “Not exactly. Paula took the kids to see her family, so it looks like a rather lonely Christmas Eve by the fire. What about you?”

  “Same. My husband is in Puerto Rico staking out an arms dealer. Doesn’t know when he might be home. How about that for a Merry Christmas?”

  “Sounds pretty dull. Where are you?”

  “Georgetown. Staying with a friend. You guys file papers?”

  “We did. The PSA is on record and we’re counting the days to make it official.”

  “And the kids?”

  “Bummed-out but we’re making the best of it, so far. Paula’s cool. We’re not fighting.”

  She paused for a second and said, “Let’s get together, have a little Christmas cheer.”

  “Now?”

  “Why not? I’m only an hour away. Drive over and we’ll find a spot for dinner.”

  “You’re on.”

  “And get a room.”

  The call was far more important than dinner and sex. It meant that he was no longer a target in whatever gambling probe the FBI was pursuing. Landy would never have a date with someone she was investigating.

  Or would she?

  * * *

  They met in a hotel bar, one that couldn’t close on Christmas Eve because of guests. Almost all of them appeared to be foreigners and a half dozen languages chattered about. The lobby and bar were draped with ivy and lights and carols hummed overhead. The holiday spirit was contagious, especially after the first drink. Landy had ditched the drab FBI garb and was dressed up in a short, slinky dress and heels. She looked rather fetching and Simon’s mind was instantly wandering. They reminisced about their law school days as if they were a couple of geezers instead of two forty-year-olds entering middle age. As they remembered old classmates and difficult professors, both were thinking of the rowdy sex they had enjoyed back in those days.

  Simon finally said, “You have to tell me the truth, Landy. About the investigation.”

  “You think I would be here if you were still involved?”

  “No, I don’t. When you called, I assumed I was off the hook.”

  “You are. Justice shut down the investigation. Someone up there ultimately agreed with you and decided we have bigger fish to catch. Small-time gamblers are a dime a dozen and where are the victims? I thought it was a waste of time from day one.”

  Simon could not suppress a smile. He closed his eyes and said, “Thank you. What about Chub?”

  “Free and clear. We don’t have the time or energy to chase down bookies.”

  “Can I tell him?”

  “He knows. His lawyer was informed yesterday. Merry Christmas to all.”

  Simon kept smiling as a heavy, dark cloud disappeared. There were others, but none carried the possibility of a federal indictment.

  She said, “But you should be more careful, Simon. When I first saw your name I was shocked.”

  “How many names were there?”

  “Couple of hundred. Chub is a busy boy. At first we thought he was working with some Mexicans and distributing fentanyl, but our sources dried up. Once we realized he was only a bookie we lost interest. He’s a big bookie, though, with business up and down the East Coast. I’d stay away from him.”

  “Don’t worry.” But Simon was already thinking of late-night visits with a drink or two and the games on the big screens.

  “I’m starving. Let’s order from the bar menu and stay here.”

  “Good idea. And the check’s on me, a free man.”

  They ordered sandwiches and fries and had another drink. They talked about their careers and their frustrations. She had been with the FBI for eighteen years, since law school, and, like all agents, would be forced to retire at fifty-seven. She didn’t want to wait that long before getting the boot, but she had few options. She felt too old to learn how to practice law.

  Don’t do it, Simon said. He clicked off a litany of reasons to avoid the grind that had become his life and career. The dinner arrived and the conversation slowly wound around to why they were there. Two married people, old lovers, meeting in a bar on Christmas Eve, indulging in the pleasant pre-game before they hustled upstairs for a romp, one for old time’s sake.

  She startled him with “I think we should wait before we go to bed.”

  “Aren’t we waiting now?”

  “I’m serious. Your marriage is almost over. Mine is a mess. It seems rather foolish to start something now that will only complicate matters.”

  “When would you like to start?”

  “I don’t know. You’ve taken the big step. Curt and I have talked about it. We’ve drifted so far apart we seldom talk. I haven’t seen him in three weeks and don’t know when he’s coming home. He called four days ago. He’s probably seeing someone else.”