Stephanie shifted in her chair, visibly annoyed.
“If he hasn’t been picked up, he doesn’t need a lawyer.”
“Oh, he will. Kid doesn’t have the brains God gave a worm. I want to be prepared. I can give you a, whaddya call it, retainer right now.”
Stephanie straightened in her seat at the mention of money. “Very well. What’s he up to?”
“If I tell you that, are you allowed to tell the police?”
“No. It would fall under attorney-client privilege.”
“Right. I heard that on the TV. That sounds right. Okay. He’s a drug dealer. Steals cars. Robs houses. Pretty much anything that comes up looks like easy money, he’s good to go.”
“Hm. Well, Mrs...?”
Snookie grimaced, realizing she’d never come up with a name other than the one she’d picked to amuse herself. Her eye fell on a ceramic mug on the desk.
“Cerama.”
“Well, Mrs. Cerama, I’m not sure petty theft and drug dealing is the sort of case—”
Snookie leaned forward across the desk and Stephanie recoiled to avoid being touched. “But you’re my only hope of keeping my boy out of jail.”
“I don’t know that I’m your only hope—”
“But I knew you’d understand because of your momma.”
Stephanie’s expression twitched. She’d been caught off guard.
Snookie snatched a couple of tissues from a box on the corner of the desk and dabbed her eyes. She could cry on demand, a talent she’d used many times in the past to great success. If the FBI handed out FBI Oscars, she imagined she’d be the Meryl Streep of the bureau.
“Mrs. Cerama—”
“You can call me Tammy.”
“Tammy. I don’t see—”
“I imagine you don’t give your momma the sort of trouble my boy gives me, what you being a fancy lawyer and all. But you understand what it’s like to have family go to jail.”
Stephanie frowned but didn’t rise to the bait.
Snookie wanted to ask her the last time Stephanie saw her mother, but no. Too obvious. She peeked over her tissues and realized Stephanie’s expression had shifted from annoyance to something more like...
Suspicion.
Snookie lowered the tissues and tracked Stephanie’s attention to her wrist, and the watch the office had given her for her retirement. The watch didn’t feel like old Tammy Whynot.
Stupid. How’d I miss that?
“He gave me this,” she said stroking the watch as Stephanie’s gaze shifted to hers, searching for duplicity, no doubt. “He can’t afford no watch like this.”
“He probably stole it.”
Snookie pointed. “See? That’s what I’m sayin’.”
Stephanie plucked a business card from the holder on her desk. “Tell you what, Mrs. Cerama. You take my card. I can’t do anything for you until your boy gets himself arrested. When that happens, you give me a call and we’ll talk retainer.”
Snookie took the card. “Okay. ‘Bout how much does something like that usually cost?”
“Depends. I’d keep five thousand aside.”
Snookie grunted. “I don’t have that kind of money.”
She watched Stephanie fight to keep from snarling as she stood and rounded the desk. “Well, if your son is as prolific a thief as you say he is, maybe he does.”
“He’s a pro, all right,” muttered Snookie, feeling like the use of the word prolific had been a test to see if she knew what it meant.
She let Stephanie usher her to the door and looked back down the hall as they entered the waiting room.
“Is that a bed back there?” she asked.
Stephanie’s cheeks colored. “I’m on a big case. I sleep here sometimes.”
“Ah.” Snookie couldn’t help but wonder if the cot was for Jamie, though hiding out in her daughter’s office wouldn’t be the smartest idea.
“Can I borrow your bathroom before I go?”
“It’s broken.” Stephanie gave her elbow a shove towards the door. “Just give me a call if you need me.”
Snookie frowned.
So much for slipping back there to look around.
She allowed Stephanie to herd her toward the door and walked out into the heat, squinting into the sun.
“Talk to you later.” Stephanie whipped back inside and Snookie thought she heard the door lock.
She turned. Looking up, she spotted a camera hanging from the eaves.
Being watched.
She returned to her car and pulled out at an angle so Stephanie and her cameras wouldn’t see her Florida plates were issued in a different county.
Snookie drove aimlessly for a few minutes, tapping her finger against her front tooth. Her interview with Stephanie hadn’t provided her with anything solid, but her mind kept circling back to one thought.
That girl is up to something.
She had acted too suspicious. The watch had set her off, but maybe the mention of mother-daughter relationships didn’t help. Either way, she seemed on edge.
Snookie decided she’d stick around another day or two. Maybe watch Stephanie’s office.
But first...
She drove by Declan Bingham’s pawn shop to find a sign on the door announcing it was closed for the hurricane.
So much for that.
It would be much more awkward ‘bumping’ into him at his home.
Pondering her options, she found herself on the tiny town’s main drag, her attention captured by a bar with an ornate wooden sign outside. The plaque’s edges were painted with golden scrollwork and the painted bust of a woman thrust from the wall, making the whole bar look like an old galleon ship.
“The Anne Bonny,” she said aloud, recognizing the bar from her thumb drive.
She needed to find a hotel room.
But first, a drink.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Snookie found parking, retrieved a small duffle bag from her trunk and entered the Anne Bonny to find a party in full swing. Homemade signs hung from every corner of the bustling establishment with Hurricane Party! written on them in colorful marker. On one wall, a round, blue Hurricane Evacuation Route sign
