Free Death Was in the Picture by Linda L. Richards

loud.”
    “It would be the right guess,” I said quietly.
    Dex just lifted his eyebrows some more.
    “And the lawyer wants you to meet him during visiting hours which, I gather, is pretty much any time you want to go. And I’m coming with you,” I said as though it were an afterthought. Though, of course, it was not.
    “You are?”
    “I am,” I said with confidence.
    “Look, I can’t have little sister tagging along all the time,” Dex began, but I didn’t let him finish.
    “Last time I let you go on your own and I’ve had cause to regret it. But this time? Well, you’ll have figured this out already, but there’s just no way I’m going to let you go meet Laird Wynd-ham on your own.”

CHAPTER NINE
    IT WASN’T AS simple as all that, of course.
    Even though Dex had ended his official relationship with Xander Dean and was theoretically clear to take on a different one, there is such a thing as conflict of interest. Viewed from certain angles, there were a couple of places where such a conflict might figure here. Dex didn’t seem particularly concerned about such things, so I had to worry for the both of us.
    Though Dex had told Dean he wanted out, it didn’t seem like Dean was going to take no for an answer. At least, that’s how it seemed to me. Both of these things seemed cause for concern, though neither appeared to bother Dex. The only thing he seemed at all troubled about was how he was going to get up to Lincoln Heights.
    If I’d been making the trek on my own, I would have taken a streetcar or, with enough time on my hands and without a lot of ready cash, I would have walked the three or so miles. Dex considered neither option; instead he had me call Mustard for a car.
    When I got him on the phone, Mustard told me I’d just caught him on the way out the door. He said he hadn’t planned on heading toward Lincoln Heights, but that dropping us off wouldn’t be far out of his way. That meant Dex and I would be on our own on the way back, but I didn’t point this out to Dex. We could jump that hurdle when we got to it.
    When he arrived at the office, Mustard looked sportier than usual. He was wearing plus-fours, no jacket and a shirt with no tie and the top few buttons undone. Garters held his sleeves up and off his forearms. His head was bare and his ginger haircurled gently, as though it had been recently washed. He looked amazingly crisp and fresh. I almost didn’t recognize him.
    “What are
you
dressed up for?” I demanded when I got a load of him.
    “Golf,” he said.
    “Golf?” This was Dex, standing in his office doorway, pulling on his jacket. His tie was nicely done up and he had his hat in his hand. He and Mustard couldn’t have looked more different. “When did you get to be a swell?”
    “Ha,” Mustard said crisply. “I’ve always been a swell. I’ve just been hiding it from you. Guess you’re not shamus enough to catch on.”
    “Not bloody likely,” Dex said with a grin.
    The car Mustard led us to was of a red so dark it was almost black. Dex let out a whistle.
    “You know I’m not much of an automobile buff, Mustard,” Dex said as we got in. I hopped into the backseat, letting the boys sit together up front. “But this one changes my mind. This is the prettiest car ever rolled. Dussie?”
    “Naw,” Mustard replied while we got going. “Marmon Sixteen. They call it the world’s most advanced car.”
    “Wow,” Dex said.
    “It’s not brand new. Looks it though, don’t it? The guy I got it from … well, let’s just say it was suddenly more car than he could afford.”
    Unobserved in the back seat, I felt my eyebrows raise, but didn’t say anything. I’d never seen anyone who owed Mustard money. Not with my own eyes. But I figured it probably wasn’t a position many wanted.
    It was only a couple of miles to Number 11 and, before we even knew it, Mustard was pulling up in front.
    “Who are you seeing?” Mustard asked as we got out.
    “You don’t wanna