Page 107 of Say Yes to the Death

Claire took a sip of water. Rehashing her past with Wendy had taken a lot out of her. She would kill for a quick yoga flow and a brief nap.

“No!” Wendy shouted in the hallway. Through the window, Claire noted her gesturing with both hands despite the sling. “I’m not dropping it. She owes me.”

Apparently, the courthouse couldn’t spring for soundproofing in their mediation rooms.

“Every injury you sustained during the fight was superficial. It even says it in your visit notes in the emergency room. At best, she might owe you a couple hundred bucks in copays. And this isn’t even a receipt from a therapist, it’s from some nail place on Broad Street.”

“Jolisa is my therapist,” Wendy shouted. “I tell her everything.”

“That’s not how it works. If they counter-sue in front of a judge, they will win. You could lose your entire business. Then you won’t even have a platform to challenge her. Is that what you want?”

“I’m not giving up!” Wendy let out a frustrated scream. Suddenly, a fire extinguisher crashed through the window into the conference room. Claire gasped. Acting on instinct, she turned and threw herself across Kyle. Shattered glass scattered everywhere.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Claire asked. Blood dribbled from a cut on Kyle’s cheek. She pulled a tissue from her purse and dabbed at it.

“All good,” he said, brushing a shard of glass off his lapel. “Mondays, am I right?”

“John?” Claire glanced at the head of the table. John had scooted his chair back until he hit the opposite wall. He looked terrified, but no worse for the wear.

Kyle failed to suppress a grin. “What the hell was she thinking?” he whispered to Claire.

Claire shrugged. She would rather light herself on fire than delve into the bag of angry cats and strap-on dildos that was Wendy’s mind.

Wendy’s lawyer poked his head through the now glass-less window. “On behalf of my client, I’d like to request that we schedule individual meetings. Thank you for your time.”

John shook his head. “I think that’s best.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

To Do:

- Triple check Nicole’s remote camera system

- Buy more dusters for gallery

“Thanks for picking me up, guys,” Claire said as she slid into the back seat of Mindy’s Mazda. “I’m pretty sure the press knows what car I drive. Yesterday I was in the grocery store and a reporter jumped out from behind a wall of paper towels to take my picture. I thought they were finally backing off. But ever since the news broke about the notes, they’re everywhere. They’re driving me insane.” She shook her head.

“Nasty buggers,” Gavin said from the front seat. His British accent was honey to her ears. The sharp lines of his haircut suggested he had had a trim that day, and his warm brown skin was flawless. Maybe Gavin had a single brother.

“You still don’t know who leaked the information to the press?” Mindy asked as she pulled away from the curb.

“No. My money’s on a dirty cop, though. An officer got fired just last year for taking bribes.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Mindy said. “Gavin, you should have let Claire sit up front. She’s had a hell of a start to her week.”

“We can switch.” He tugged at his seatbelt.

“No way,” Claire said. “I’m already third-wheeling. I don’t want to throw off your date night vibe. Does Mindy ever let you drive, Gavin?”

He shook his head and looked over his shoulder. “I keep pulling out on the wrong side of the road. Old habits.”

Mindy rolled her eyes and pulled to a stop at a red light. “You’ve lived in the United States for a year, babe. It’s time to accept our freedom units and customs.”

“Inches. What bollocks,” Gavin muttered, staring out the window.

“Mindy,” Claire said, “Did you see Aaron’s print? Coli framed it today.”

“Yes, it’s perfect,” Mindy said with a smile. She turned down Electric Avenue. They were less than a mile from tonight’s bar of choice, a country bar called Yee Haw’s.

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