Angel's Verdict Read Online Free PDF Page B

slung Payton into the hall like a Frisbee.
    He landed hard on his right knee, hands sprawled in front of him. Which spared him a broken nose at least, she supposed. Not that she gave a hoot in hell.
    She slammed the door shut, cutting off his yelps of pain.
    The wind died away.
    The brilliant light faded.
    EB stared at her, speechless.
    “Mercy,” she said finally.
    Then, “He all right?”
    Bree shrugged. She took a deep breath and tucked her hair behind her ears. Then she cracked the office door and peered out. “He’s halfway down the hall,” she reported. “And he’s only limping a little bit.”
    “I’m thinking maybe you overreacted,” EB said. She looked around the office in a puzzled way. “Goodness knows where that wind comes from. And the light?” She rubbed her forehead as if it hurt, then looked up at the ceiling fixture. “Maybe we ought to change that fluorescent overhead for something reliable. Look! The window’s open. See what that breeze done to my files. Did to my files,” she corrected herself absently. “Hm.” She got up and began to collect the papers scattered over the floor.
    Bree wasn’t sure where her fits of abnormal strength came from; they didn’t happen often, and only since she’d taken on the cases representing the souls of the damned. The only thing she was certain of was that EB wouldn’t remember anything unusual about her attack on Payton the Rat after a little more time had passed.
    Then the usual physical reaction set in. She sat down in the visitor’s chair before her legs gave way. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
    “Shoved that little turkey outside like that? Don’t see why not. That man has a mouth on him, that’s for sure.” EB tapped the papers into a neat pile and looked at her employer. “Maybe you should go on home and get some food in your belly, though. You know what? I bet you had a drop in your sugar. That gives most folks a bit of a temper. Get yourself some good sweet tea. Put your feet up.”
    “I’ll be all right.” Bree, suddenly, was close to tears. This was part of the reaction, too. She pinched her leg hard, to distract herself. “I think I’d better get on over to the set of Bitter Tide , though. Just to check on Justine. Do you suppose this Mrs. Waterman really swore out a warrant for her arrest?”
    “I wouldn’t bet a flat nickel on that boy telling you the truth. On the other hand, a visit might be a good idea. I’ll key in those will changes and print it on out. Then you have a genuine reason to go poking around. It’ll be about half an hour, if that’s okay.”
    “Of course,” Bree said.
    “You’ll have enough time to walk on home and have some sweet tea with your sister.”
    Bree clapped her hand to her mouth. “Oh my Lord. I forgot all about Antonia.”
    The office door bounced open, and Antonia herself stood there, her cheeks pink with annoyance. “There you are!” She put her hands on her hips and tapped her foot. “I thought you were coming home for lunch? I went and used the last of this week’s paycheck to buy that shrimp salad from the Park Avenue market you love so much? And did I have to eat practically all of it myself because it, like, totally sucks if it sits around in the open air? The answer is yes.” She pulled a paper bag out of the tote hanging from one shoulder and tossed it to Bree. “Here’s the rest of it. I made it into a sandwich. Two ittybitty sandwiches, in fact. One for you and one for Mrs. Billingsley. Hi, Mrs. Billingsley. Have you decided to quit working for my scatterbrained sister and get a job working for a prompt and timely person yet?”
    “Not yet,” EB said placidly. “How are you, child?”
    “Fine. Haven’t seen you since before the holidays.” Antonia looked around for a spare chair, didn’t find one, and plunked herself onto the floor. “I’m back working as a tech manager for the Savannah Rep Theater, you know. Which is why I don’t have enough money to buy