Миранда Джеймс - Twelve Angry Librarians

“Thank you, love.” Helen Louise ate a bite herself, chewed, and then nodded. “Yes, I think this is pretty good. I’ve done better, but this is good.”

“You’re far too modest, sweetheart. I don’t see how it could be any better,” I told her before I forked another, larger bite into my mouth.

We soon finished our servings of the tart, and then we chatted over the coffee. I told her about the incident earlier in the afternoon with Gavin Fong.

“You couldn’t help yourself, love. I know that, but I hope it’s not going to cause you trouble. This guy sounds like the type who would sue over the tiniest thing.” Helen Louise, though she hadn’t practiced law in well over a decade, never lost the lawyer’s way of looking at things. “Have you talked to Sean about any of this yet?”

“No, not yet.” I stared into my nearly empty coffee cup. “I haven’t told you the worst. I had a call from Forrest Wyatt’s office earlier, asking me to meet with him first thing in the morning.”

“I think you’d better talk to Sean about this before you go to that meeting, just in case.” Helen Louise frowned. “I may be making more of this than I should, but it’s best to be prepared.”

“You’re right,” I said. Suddenly that chocolate tart felt sour in my stomach. I drained my coffee. I glanced toward the window, where a face outside caught my attention. Gavin Fong was staring at me, but the moment he saw that I was looking back, he took off down the street.

I thought about mentioning it to Helen Louise, but decided after quick reflection there was no point. It was nothing more than coincidence.

“I’ll call Sean when I get home,” I said. “Though I have to tell you I don’t look forward to confessing this to him.”

“I know he’s inclined to fuss a bit where you’re concerned.” Helen Louise smiled. “But he’s your son, and he cares about you.”

“I know. I just don’t want to feel like the teenager getting fussed at by his father, and that’s the way I feel sometimes.” I grinned. “I have to say, though, that I like the idea I can still surprise him, shake up his notions about what his old man gets up to.”

Helen Louise laughed. She glanced toward the door as the bell on it chimed. Seven people came in, and she turned back to me with a wry smile as she stood.

“Looks like my break is over, love. We’re shorthanded tonight because one of my help fell today and sprained his ankle.”

“No need to apologize. I know how busy you are. Call me later when you get home.” I pushed my chair back and stood. We exchanged one last quick kiss before I made my way to the door.

I headed back toward the hotel, my emotions a mix of joy and annoyance. Joy from having spent even a few short minutes with Helen Louise, and annoyance at myself for letting my temper get the better of me with Gavin this afternoon. Perhaps I hadn’t taken the situation seriously enough. I knew Sean would probably read me the riot act. He worried enough in the past over my exploits , as he called them, in solving murders.

Instead of going through the hotel to get to the parking lot at the back, I cut down an alley that ran alongside the building. The lighting wasn’t good, but I could see just enough to make my way through.

As I neared the corner of the building at the back, I paused. Had I heard someone behind me? Were those footfalls?

I turned to look, then the world went dark.

NINE

I felt a hand on my shoulder and opened my eyes to find a face close to mine.

“Hey, man, go sleep it off somewhere else. If you don’t get movin’ soon, I’m going to have to call Athena PD. You don’t wanna spend the night in a cell, do you?”

I realized I was lying on the ground, and I pushed myself up into a sitting position. I glared at the man in a security guard’s uniform.

“I’m not drunk. Someone hit me and knocked me down.”

He stood there gaping at me. “I didn’t see no one.”

I got myself upright and stood looking down at him. “I don’t care whether you saw anyone. I was attacked.” I rubbed the back of my head. I remembered footsteps hurrying away right after I hit the ground. I must have blacked out, but only for a few seconds, I thought.

“If you say so,” the security guard said.

My tone was curt to the point of offensiveness when I replied. “I do say so. You can move along. I don’t need your help.” Not that you helped much , I added silently.

He shrugged. “Well, if you ain’t hurt, then I guess I’ll let you be.” He turned and walked away.

Thankful to be rid of him, I dusted off my suit the best I could. I realized my hands had scrapes and a couple of small cuts, probably from putting them out to break the fall onto the surface of the parking lot.

I winced when I turned my head. My right shoulder was going to be stiff by morning. I think it must have taken the brunt of the impact and saved me from getting an even worse blow to the head. My head was pretty clear, and I didn’t feel nauseated. No urge to vomit, either. No concussion, then, I hoped.

Mostly what I felt was anger. I felt sure I knew who was responsible for this. Gavin Fong had followed me when I left Helen Louise’s place, and he saw his chance at revenge when I turned down the dark alley rather than making my way through the hotel.

I debated whether to go to the ER at the Athena Medical Center but decided against it. I was a little shaken up, but otherwise I was okay. When I got home I would tell Stewart and Haskell about the incident, and I knew Stewart would keep an eye on me, bless him, and make sure I was all right. He had come to be like the younger brother my parents never gave me.

As soon as I reached home, I would put an ice pack on the place where Gavin struck me. I needed to keep any swelling to a minimum. I made it to my car and drove home.

When I walked into the kitchen I found Stewart and Haskell at the table playing canasta. Diesel came to me immediately for attention. He told me, in indignant meows and warbles, how unhappy he was at being left behind. I bent slightly to rub his head, and I groaned. My shoulder was not happy.

“Charlie, what the heck happened to you? Have you been in another fight?” Stewart laid his cards on the table and jumped up to examine me. “Look at you. Your hands are scraped, and you’ve got dirt on one side of your face.”

“Not a fight.” I grimaced. “Well, a one-sided one. I was attacked a little while ago in the parking lot at the Farrington House.”

“Did you see who did it?” Haskell went immediately into cop mode while Stewart led me to the sink to wash my hands with antibacterial soap. Diesel followed, still complaining, though in more muted tones. Dante danced around, barking occasionally.

“No.” I winced as the soap made contact with the cuts in my hands. “But I’m pretty sure I know who was responsible.” I explained about seeing Gavin Fong peering in the window at Helen Louise’s bistro. “It was shortly after that when I left to go to my car. I’m sure it was him.”

“Do you still have your wallet? Cell phone?”

I felt like an idiot. I hadn’t thought about that. I remembered feeling my wallet in my pocket, however, when I fished my keys out. “I have my wallet. I’ll have to check for my phone when Stewart finishes with my hands.”

“In a moment.” Stewart rinsed my hands under the warm water, then dried them with paper towels. He patted my jacket pocket where he knew I usually kept my phone. “It’s there.”

“So not robbery,” Haskell said. “Then I reckon it probably was that guy, trying to get back at you. How are you feeling? Any symptoms of concussion?”

“No, I feel all right, only bruised on my right shoulder, and my hands of course. Oh, and I’ve got a bump on the head.” I smiled at Stewart. “Would you mind making me an ice pack for it?”