Board Stiff (An Elliott Lisbon Mystery) Read Online Free PDF Page B

free.”
    “Like in fifteen to life,” Tod said and plopped into Jane’s seat at the head of the table.
    I moved the ice pack from my lip to my forehead and closed my eyes.
    “I’m thinking it’ll be the electric chair,” Carla added. “The jury’s gonna hate Jane. Probably hand down their verdict while the D.A.’s still delivering his closing argument.”
    “Stop,” I said. “Let’s just adjourn the meeting and get everyone out of here.”
    “Sorry, but that’s just not going to happen,” Tod said. “You can’t buy gossip this good.”
    “I better get more croissants,” Carla said and left the parlor carrying an empty silver platter.
    I glanced across the room. Members bustled over to the buffet to refill their breakfast plates and coffee. Some took off their suit jackets and cardigan sweaters. One gal flipped off her shoes and tucked her legs up under her.
    Tod was right. It would take something bigger than me to shut this sucker down.
    “Fine, Tod. But not all day, okay? Try to wrap by lunch,” I said and pushed my hair back. “How’s my face?”
    “Not horrible, and no blood. You’ve certainly looked worse.”
    Good enough for me. I grabbed my notebook, dropped my make-shift ice pack on the buffet, and left the parlor. I closed the doors behind me with a sigh.
    In the foyer, Ransom stood talking to the two uniforms. His hands were in his pockets and he smiled at me. Mr. Casual. Mr. No Worries.
    He worried me.
    “So what’s going on?” I asked when I reached him.
    “How’s your face?”
    Preston Wilde stuck his head out from the library. “Lieutenant Ransom? My client and I need more time. We’ll meet you at the station this afternoon.”
    “That’s not the way it works,” Ransom replied.
    “We would appreciate the courtesy, Lieutenant,” Preston said. His voice became friendly, a tax man used to dealing with the uncooperative nature of bureaucrats. One surly detective was probably no more than a 1040EZ form he could fill out with a crayon.
    “Fine. One hour. But if she doesn’t show, I will find her, handcuff her, and parade her down Main Street straight to a jail cell.” Ransom nodded to the two uniforms, and they left through the front door.
    Ransom put his hand on my arm. “May I have a minute?”
    “Only if you plan on answering my questions this time.”
    He leaned in. “Only if you plan on making them personal.”
    His hand lingered on my arm as Carla walked up with the platter full of fresh croissants. The warm buttery aroma preceded her by a good ten feet. “Croissant, Lieutenant? Hot from the oven.”
    He smiled, but declined.
    “Elli, I hate to interrupt, but Mr. Ballantyne is on line two.” She looked up at Ransom. “Lieutenant, you don’t need to rush off, I’m sure she’ll only be a minute. You wait right here and I’ll bring out some fresh coffee.” Carla walked away before he could answer.
    “I need to take this,” I said to Ransom. “And you do not need to wait.”
    He sat down in one of the wing back chairs and grinned. “I don’t mind.”
    Of course not.
    I passed the parlor on my way to my office. The members were still sequestered behind the double doors. Popping champagne bottles, no doubt, celebrating board life without Jane Hatting.
    Sinking into my desk chair, I wondered how to break it to Mr. Ballantyne about Jane. He was going to be crushed. He personally chose Jane as chair; every year he renewed her seat. No votes, only his appointment.
    I picked up the handset. “Mr. Ballantyne, how are you?”
    “Elliott! Hello! Hello! How wonderful to hear your voice,” Mr. Ballantyne shouted into the phone. He sounded as if he was using a battery-operated hand-crank telephone circa 1897. “We’ve just finished a late dinner. The food, Elli! So rich, you would adore it. And the tigers in Ranthambore. We took the train from Mumbai. It’s magnificent here!”
    Ah. Safari in India. I pictured the Ballantynes with matching leather rucksacks and pith