Free The Death in the Willows by Richard; Forrest Page B

Hemphill,” Lyon replied. “She looks better since her acne went away.”
    â€œWho’s looking at her face? Or is she jailbait?”
    â€œShe was a high school senior last year so she must be over eighteen.” Lyon left the table to walk toward the men arguing by the door. He glanced at Katty Hemphill and decided she’d look a lot better if she learned to dance without chewing gum. Rocco was reddening as his anger became more obvious. It was time to put a stop to things. “Did you tell Sarge about the liquor laws?”
    â€œWhat laws?”
    â€œAbout serving alcoholic beverages within the city limits under these circumstances.”
    â€œThe chief’s got no right to put me out of business. You know what I can clear topless?”
    â€œYou’re right, Sarge,” Lyon replied. “And all you have to do to keep him out of your hair is to serve near beer and nonalcoholic wine. Then you’re home free.”
    â€œNo kidding?”
    â€œThat’s what the better dirty places in New York do.”
    â€œRight, Chief?” He turned to Rocco beseechingly.
    Rocco glanced sideways at Lyon as the anger drained from his face. “That’s about it, First. Take out the booze and you can have orgies in here.”
    â€œGreat, man. Great.” Sarge turned, took two steps before spinning back toward them. “Take out the booze? You’re crazy!”
    â€œIt’s sort of up to you, Sarge. Booze or boobs, so to speak.”
    â€œThat right?” He looked quizzically from Rocco to Lyon.
    â€œAbsolutely,” Lyon said.
    Sarge Renfroe considered his alternatives for three seconds before turning back toward the bar. “Katty Hemphill! Get the hell off there and get some clothes on!”
    Sean Hilly nearly choked on a large mug of beer as they sat down. “You’re all right, Wentworth. All right. I hope to God you don’t get knocked off.”
    The Secretary of the State for Connecticut sat behind her desk before blue drapes and deep carpeting and despised herself for the massive headache that consumed her.
    Kimberly Ward, deputy to the Secretary, clutched a clipboard before her as she sat heavily on the long couch. “You want to go over this list or just call it a day?”
    â€œAt nine in the morning?”
    â€œWell, there is one minor little item on today’s agenda.”
    â€œNothing requiring a great deal of effort, I hope.”
    â€œThe document is called the constitution of the state, and it seems to require that you officially put the legislature in recess today.”
    Bea groaned. The constitution stipulated the length of the legislative session, and midnight today was the mandatory recess time. She remembered two years ago when the state income tax bill was under debate and they’d forced her to stop the clock at five minutes to the witching hour. The clock had remained stopped for eight hours. “How’s the calendar look?”
    â€œThey moved along fine yesterday, but you know how it is at the end of the session.”
    â€œMaybe they’ll voice vote.”
    Kim raised an eyebrow. “In an election year? I could get my more militant friends to make a bomb threat.”
    Bea put her head in her hands. “Promises, promises. Anything else on your doomsday board?”
    â€œDottie took a call first thing this morning.” She glanced at the board. “A Mr. Raven Marsh has an appointment to see you. He says he’s a free-lance writer.”
    â€œNot today.”
    â€œToo late. He’s on his way. You can’t cancel appointments with news writers and win elections.”
    â€œWhat paper is he with?”
    â€œA magazine writer. Then there’s the delegation from Miss Porter’s school at eleven, and a speech before the University Club at noon.”
    â€œWill my opponent be there?”
    â€œYou know it.”
    â€œThis afternoon we can sleep it