Chapter 23
PENNY WAS SMILING. “Matt and G. G., this is Kent Wayne, the defense attorney who got Nancy out on bail.”
Wayne nodded at Nancy, Brandi, and me, said, “Hello, again,” and handed Penny the flowers. “Thank you for inviting me to dinner.”
G. G., red faced and nearly apoplectic, exploded. “You son of a bitch!”
Shocked, Brandi squealed, “Georgie!” and grabbed his balled-up fist.
Wayne retained his cheerful demeanor as he asked G. G., “Have we met, sir?”
“Don’t you ‘sir’ me, you barnacle on a butt.”
“That’s colorful,” Kent Wayne said amiably.
Nancy was aghast. “G. G., what’s the matter?”
G. G. pulled out of Brandi’s grip and was struggling to his feet from the depth of the soft sofa cushions. Matt stepped over behind him. Placing both hands on his partner’s shoulders, he gently kept the older man seated.
Astonished, Penny looked back and forth between G. G. and Wayne. “What is going on?”
“We’ve met Mr. Wayne,” Matt said, his tone cold. “Professionally.”
Penny got it. “Oh, Matt, if he defended someone you arrested, you can’t hold that against him. That’s his business. Kent is our guest.”
“You call him Kent?” Matt’s teeth were clenched so hard I was amazed that he could speak clearly.
Wayne touched Penny lightly on the arm. “Perhaps I should leave.”
“Absolutely not!” she said. “We’re having dinner to celebrate Nancy’s release, and you belong here with us.”
I stood up and faced Matt. “This is my fault. When I persuaded Nancy to hire Kent Wayne, I didn’t know you and G. G. had a history—”
G. G. turned his burning gaze toward me. “He was your idea? Was that why you called me?”
“You called G. G.?” Matt asked.
Walter stood up, made the classic T sign with his hands, and said, “Why don’t we all jus’ take a time-out?”
Matt ignored him and kept his focus on me. “Why did you call G. G.?”
“I tricked him into telling me what criminal lawyer you two disliked the most because I wanted Nancy to have the strongest person to fight for her.”
Nancy was on her feet, moving to my defense. “Whatever Morgan did, she would have done the same for you, Matt, or Penny, or anyone who needed help. You know that.”
“It’s all right, Nancy,” I said. “Matt has every right to be angry with me.” I turned to G. G. “I’m sorry I lied to you—saying I wanted you to settle a bet about defense attorneys when I was really looking for the name of a legal top gun. I should have been honest with you.”
G. G. grunted and finally settled back against the sofa cushions, close to Brandi. “Forget it,” he said. “When a friend’s in trouble, we do what we have to do.”
“I won’t lie to you again, G. G.,” I said.
“So,” Penny said brightly to Kent Wayne, “now that everything’s all right—what can I get you to drink?”
If Penny thought that the evening’s rough spot had been smoothed over, she was wrong. From the stiffness of Matt’s shoulders, and the fact that he was not looking at me, I knew that everything was far from all right between the two of us.
IF ONE DEFINES “a pleasant evening” as being one during which blood is not spilled, then Penny’s celebration dinner party was a success. The food was certainly a hit. Matt didn’t eat much, but G. G. had his usual three helpings. Kent Wayne said he’d never had a better meal, and sounded as though he meant it. Several times I caught Wayne watching Penny with more than casual interest. She was particularly attractive tonight, with her gleaming brown hair falling loose around her heart-shaped face. Again, I thought that her warm smile and her easy laugh made her look like an earthy Madonna. What surprised me was when I realized how often that smile of Penny’s was aimed at Kent Wayne.
The small-town sheriff and the big-city lawyer turned out to be an entertaining team of storytellers. They kept most of us at the table laughing as they related some of their stranger experiences on opposite sides of the crime-and-punishment equation.
When the last drop of pineapple sherbet and bite of miniature brownie had been consumed, we all got up to help Penny clear the table.
“I don’t need help, really,” she said. “Besides, there’s only room for one other person in the kitchen.”
“Then I’ll help,” Kent Wayne announced. “Please let me—it’s a way to say thank you for including me this evening.”
Penny started to protest, but Wayne took a stack of plates out of my hands and maneuvered himself around behind her. “Lead the way.”
Penny said, “Well, if you insist . . .”
Matt glowered at Wayne’s back, but he followed Walter and G. G. back into the living room.
Nancy, Brandi, and I watched Wayne and Penny disappear into the kitchen.
“Wow,” Brandi said. “That guy’s some operator.”
“He won’t get anywhere with Penny,” Nancy said. “She’s still convinced her dead husband is alive.”
The skeptical expression on Brandi’s face made it clear that she wasn’t so sure this was true. “In my opinion, if Patrick Cavanaugh wasn’t dead he’d have come back to Penny by now. She’s been alone for seven years—that’s a long time without somebody to snuggle with.”
From Matt’s coldness toward me after he found out that I’d tricked G. G. into telling me about Kent Wayne, it didn’t look as though I was going to be snuggling with him again anytime soon.
IT WAS NEARLY eleven when Walter and I took Nancy back to her building at Eighty-first Street and Central Park West. On the sidewalk, we said good night, and promised to call each other tomorrow.
“I enjoyed your stories,” Nancy told Walter. She kissed him on the cheek and hurried toward the entrance. We watched through the glass doors until she was safely inside and at the elevator.
“Do you mind if we walk home?” I asked Walter. “It’s only nine blocks.”
“Fine idea. I’d like to stretch my legs.” Walter paid the cab driver, and we started walking down Central Park West.
Even though it was June it wasn’t hot yet. Vehicle traffic was light at this hour. We saw a young couple holding hands as they waited for a bus, but the only other pedestrians were on the other side of the street, strolling along the stone wall that bordered Central Park.
After a couple of blocks of companionable silence, Walter said, “I like that G. G. You know where you stand with him. No big-city bull hockey pucks.”
“I shouldn’t have tricked him.”
“You’ll prob’ly do worse in your life. Most people do. We ain’t perfect creatures.”
We were nearly home when Walter said, “You got nice friends. I even like the lawyer.”
“Matt doesn’t. He told me Kent Wayne gave G. G. a terrible time on the witness stand a couple of years ago. That’s why he’s so angry with me. G. G.’s like a father to Matt.”
“Your young fella has a stiff neck that goes all the way down to the soles of his feet. If he doesn’t loosen up some, he’s gonna lose the best thing that could ever happen to him.”
“What’s that?”
“You,” Walter said.
“Matt and I have other problems,” I said, remembering that a few months ago he’d said we couldn’t see each other because I had more money than he had. Maybe he forgot about that in Boston, but maybe it was still a barrier between us, and he was using what I did with G. G. to keep us apart. “I don’t have time to figure Matt out. We’ve got to help Nancy beat a murder charge.”
“Best way to do that is to find out who killed the woman. Then maybe everybody kin relax a little, have some fun.”
I replied with a quote: “‘Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished.’”
“Shakespeare?”
“Yes.”
“Thought so,” Walter said. “Junie an’ I used to watch Jeopardy every night.”