Free Fallen Angels by Alice Duncan

why he hates you?”
    “Yeah, yeah. It doesn’t matter.”
    “Nonsense! It might matter a whole lot,
Ernest Templeton. If there’s a dirty cop who hates you
investigating this case, it could mean the difference between the
real culprit being caught or you being blamed for a crime you
didn’t commit. You can’t leave it to O’Reilly to solve this crime,
Ernie. We’ll have to investigate it ourselves.”
    Ernie let out a huge gust of air, as if
he didn’t want to pursue this matter anymore. “Hell, let O’Reilly
hate me. He’s a good cop. More or less. No worse than most, at any
rate. All I’m saying is that you need to butt out of this case. It has nothing to do with
you.”
    If I’d forsaken my roots as much as I liked
to pretend I had, I’d have sworn at him. But I couldn’t make myself
form a swear word at that moment in time, even in my head. I was
standing there, feeling totally furious but impotent to express
myself when Ernie continued.
    “And if you do continue to interfere, I’ll damned well fire
you!”
    My mouth dropped open in astonishment. I
snapped it shut and said, “You wouldn’t!”
    “I would.”
    He appeared to mean it. I was so angry I
could have spat railroad spikes. Since I was unable to do that any
more than I could curse, I said, “Good. Fire me. Then I’ll have all
day, every day, for however long it takes, to investigate Mrs.
Chalmers’ murder!”
    I left Ernie’s office while he was still
rolling his eyes and muttering swear words—he didn’t have my
personal qualms against cursing, blast him—slamming the door behind
me. I was sorry about the slam, not because I thought Ernie
deserved a silently closed door, but because my mother and Chloe
had managed to enter the office while I’d been arguing with Ernie
inside his office.
    Sweet Lord, have mercy on
Mercy, please . I know: you’re not supposed to pray as
if you’re asking Father Christmas for things, but I couldn’t help
myself at that moment in time. Stopping in my tracks from what had
been a pretty nifty flounce, I gaped at the two women in
consternation. For once in my life, I didn’t know what to
say.
    Mother never had that problem. “Mercedes
Louise Allcutt, your behavior since you moved from your home in
Boston to this city of sin becomes more deplorable every day.”
    I swallowed. “Good morning, Mother. Hey,
Chloe.”
    My sister and I exchanged a grimace of mutual
sympathy. In truth, Chloe was worse off than I as far as dealing
with our mother went, because she didn’t have a lovely job as a
private investigator’s secretary to which she could escape Mother’s
presence. See? There you have yet one more good reason for women to
seek employment.
    “Um, I didn’t know you were in Los Angeles,
Mother.”
    “I arrived today. The trip was grueling, but
one must endure if one is to prevail.”
    Exactly the point I’d been trying to
make with Ernie. However, I didn’t appreciate my mother talking
about enduring and prevailing after grueling. For heaven’s sake,
all she’d had to do was take a train from Boston to Los
Angeles. I had to solve a
ghastly murder. Well, I didn’t actually have to, but . . . Oh, you know what I
mean.
    “You’re coming to luncheon with us right this
minute, Mercedes Louise,” my mother went on to say. “We have a
number of things to discuss.”
    Uh-oh. This didn’t sound good. Mind you, I’d
stood up to my mother before, but it had been a hair-raising
experience, and I didn’t relish having to do it again. I suspected
this luncheon idea was being proposed to me—I mean demanded of
me—because she wanted to bully me into moving to Pasadena to live
in the home she and my father had bought a month or so ago as a
winter residence.
    I looked at the clock on the wall. It was
almost twelve-thirty. Just about time for lunch, unfortunately, so
I couldn’t get out of this demand by pleading work to do.
Nevertheless, since I really didn’t want to dine with my maternal
parent, I