Justice(26)

I don’t wait for him to call up. I walk down the mirrored hallway to the elevator. Impatiently, I press the button a few times, of course not getting the desired result. I still have to glance at the guard’s bank statements, run through some of the three hundred or so tips we received, write a statement for the press conference tomorrow, and maybe eat something and get an hour of sleep, and the stupid elevator is taking forever.

The doors finally open and take me up to the penthouse. I step into the foyer where a boulder of a man dressed in all black blocks the apartment door. The gun on his hip is the next thing I notice, and then don’t take my eyes off it as I approach.

“Det. Joanna Fallon,” I say, flashing my shield. “Miss Pickering is expecting me.”

He presses a finger the size of a tree branch into his ear piece. “A detective here.” He waits for a response. “Very good. Please enter.” The boulder opens the door for me.

Grace’s apartment, unlike her, hasn’t changed that much through the years. Antiques meshed with state-of-the-art technology. An armoire from the eighteenth century with fine crystal figurines has a plasma TV on it as well. Next to that, another black clad guard packing heat watches as I step in. We appraise each other as two alphas do when they come into close proximity. I don’t like this one. He makes the hairs on the back of my neck stick up. “Got a permit for that?” I ask with a smirk. The man scowls, and I know I’ve won the dominance match. I usually do.

“Be out in a moment,” Grace calls from the back rooms.

I plop down on the ten thousand dollar sofa and prepare. I get out my pad, pen, and sympathetic face. The guard watches my every movement with a glare. I know he’s just doing his job, but I hate people looking at me as if I’m a perp. That’s my job.

Grace steps out in the same clothes she wore in the press conference. The camera does add ten pounds because if she looked like a gulag survivor on screen, she looks like one who didn’t make it out in person. Those size-zero clothes literally hang on her, and her cheekbones could cut diamonds. I’m no expert on anorexia, as my scale will tell you, but Grace could be the poster child. Guess after what happened she needed to find control some way.

“I was beginning to think I was stood up,” Grace says with a gracious smile.

“It’s been a hell of a day. I got here as soon as I could.”

Grace starts pouring herself a drink. “Would you like something to drink?”

“I’m on duty,” I say.

She replaces the tumbler and sits across from me. “Something to eat?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

She nods then turns to the guard. “Arnold, why don’t you wait in the kitchen? I don’t think I’ll be needing you for awhile.” Arnold lumbers out of the room without a word. Grace smiles. “I think privacy is in order, don’t you?”

“Pretty serious looking guys.”

Grace sips her drink. “Arnold was a linebacker for the Independence Eagles.”

“I’ll bet.”

Grace sips again, and settles into her chair, folding her legs underneath her. “You look well, Joanna. What’s it been? Two years?”

“The zoo fundraiser.”

“Right. I remember you spent the night talking to Clinton. He always did have a bit of a crush on you.”

Clinton Bell, my stalker at most society functions. Good guy, but very dull. “Clinton is very nice, but not my type,” I say with a chuckle.

“Well, we all know who is,” Grace says without malice. I still feel sucker punched. “Not that he knows it,” she adds.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say like a guilty perp in interrogation. I suppose it is the worst kept secret in Galilee. The only people who aren’t privy to the knowledge are Justin and Rebecca. Too close to it, I guess.

“I apologize,” Grace says, shaking her head. “I fear my years of isolation have made me feral. I forget how to act in polite society. Let me try this again.” She smiles. “How is Justin these days? Well, I hope.”

“He’s wonderful.”

“Love does that to a person, I suppose. I received the wedding invitation two months ago. It was very sweet of him to invite me. To the engagement party as well.” She sips her drink. “And what is the bride-to-be like? I understand she’s a doctor.”

“Pediatric surgeon. And she’s…perfect. Sweet, smart, incredibly beautiful. She has a daughter, as well.”

“Does she?” Grace asks, surprised. “Huh. Then Justin has found exactly what he’s always wanted.”