20th Victim (Women's Murder Club #20) - James Patterson Page 0,94
desk on the seventh floor.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Clay, tell Mr. Parisi.”
“It was on the seat when the police car made us crash. Fell out of his pocket. Uh … it’s only this big.”
He showed with his fingers a rectangle about the size of a deck of cards.
Clay Warren looked at his lawyer, who nodded.
“I put it in my jacket, and when I was booked, I handed over all my possessions. The book. Some change. My keys. They put all of it in an envelope with my name.”
Parisi said, “Ms. Castellano, please go up to seven and get the book. Mr. Jordan, you and your client please wait outside with Toni. Thank you.”
Yuki buzzed out of the office. Zac helped Clay to stand and walked with him to the door. It hadn’t quite closed when he heard Parisi’s chair squeak as he spun it so that his back was to the entrance.
“Your Honor? It’s Len Parisi. I may have some exculpatory evidence to show you before the Clay Warren trial resumes next week.”
CHAPTER 120
THE FULL MEMBERSHIP of the Women’s Murder Club planned to have dinner at Susie’s tonight.
It had been a week or two since Yuki had sung “Margaritaville” in the front room, since Cindy and I had broken bread together, since Claire had given up half a lung, since Yuki’s trial had gone backward, which was what she had wanted.
And I had yet to tell how I survived the shootout at the Thornton Avenue corral and, with a lot of help from my friends, brought in the baddest gunman in the West.
We were all excited to catch up, listen, talk, eat with our fingers. Plus I was having a predinner meet-up with Claire. I missed her so much. I had to hear what Dr. Terk had told her, and she felt this wasn’t a conversation to be had on the phone or in email.
I said to Joe at breakfast, “Please have dinner without me. This is a major girl catch-up night. Urgent. Vital. Long overdue.”
My husband had never looked more handsome. His stay with Dave Channing had given him a glow. He’d told me all about it, and I admired his ingenuity and his commitment. And that his faith in his friend, and himself, had been renewed.
We’d had a wonderful welcome-home night together, and now he was sitting on a barstool at the kitchen island. I moved in close and stood between his legs, combed his hair with my fingers.
He wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed me, so that I felt a charge down to my toes. He looked at me and said, “You want to go out with your friends, how could I possibly say no? But before you decide to go to Susie’s, you have to see this.”
“See what?”
Joe got up from the table and opened the freezer, took out a large white paper bag that he’d squeezed in behind the ice cube trays. He brought it back to the counter and said, “Take a look.”
I pulled open the bag and peered in at a big, round container, the type commercial ice cream is packed in. This container’s lid bore a logo that I remembered well. It was from the French Laundry.
“What is this, Joe? Ice cream?”
“What was your favorite dish?”
“You were my favorite, remember? Don’t make me guess. This is so mean.”
He laughed.
“I was planning to defrost this for dinner, Linds. Lobster macaroni and cheese. Three Michelin stars. That’s the most stars you can get.”
I kissed him.
I hugged him. I made sure he knew exactly how crazy I was about him for remembering that, and for scoring a quart of it, too. And then I had to say it.
“How about a rain check, Joe? I need a night out with my girls. We’ll always have Napa.”
CHAPTER 121
CLAIRE AND I got to Susie’s before five o’clock and took a small table in the front room, which housed the long bar and the little stage for the steel band.
“Weird seeing this place in daylight,” Claire said.
“Nothing’s cooking,” I said. “Literally.”
Afternoon sunlight lit up the ocher-colored, sponge-painted walls and street paintings of a marketplace in Jamaica. The steel band often played a tune about that marketplace. I softly sang, “‘Ackee rice, salt fish are nice. And the rum is fine any time of year.’”
Claire didn’t join in, but she signaled to the bartender. He went by the name of Fireman, and that was name enough.