Dixie Diva Blues Read Online Free PDF Page B

bracelet since I live out of their jurisdiction. But maybe they don’t use them, or even have them. That’s mostly big city stuff.”
    “But Jackson Lee got you bailed out, anyway,” Rayna said softly. “I’m grateful for that.”
    Rob grinned at her. “You might not be so grateful after a few days of my enforced company. I can’t leave the hotel grounds. Holly Springs’ police agreed to keep a watch on me. One of the terms of my bonding out. Any other lawyer and I guess I’d be waiting for trial on the Coahoma County nickel.”
    “Now see,” Bitty spoke up brightly, “there’s a silver lining, Rayna. You can get all that stuff done around the house that you’ve been wanting Rob to do.”
    Rayna laughed wryly. “That would be nice, but we’ve got to pay for a lawyer. I’m glad it’s Jackson Lee, but he’s not cheap, you know.”
    “Oh, Jackson Lee won’t charge you what he charges everyone else; you know that, don’t you? You’re a friend.”
    “Friend or not, he makes his living by representing people accused of crimes. I won’t take charity from him,” Rob said quite firmly. “I pay my own way.”
    “But, Rob, think about it—how are you going to be able to afford an investigator to find the real killer? It’s silly not to let Jackson Lee give you the friend’s discount.”
    “Bitty, I know you mean well, but I won’t take freebies.”
    “That’s ridiculous,” Bitty said sharply. “You posted bail for me and others enough times, so isn’t that the same thing?”
    “No.” Rob laughed softly. “I charged you for it.”
    “Well . . . not a lot.”
    “That’s different.”
    Bitty huffed and puffed, but Rob was adamant about it, and by the time we got to Bitty’s house I was just glad to get out of the car. One more mile with those two stubborn mules and I would have demanded a gag order.
    I pushed open her iron gate and walked up to the porch, waiting on her as she got in a last few words that I’m quite certain made no difference to Rob Rainey at all. In our hurry to leave earlier we had forgotten to turn on any lights inside, but the outside porch chandeliers had one of those electric eye things that automatically turn on at dusk so I decided to sit down in one of the wicker chairs to wait for Bitty to finish harassing Rob. Said wicker chair creaked under my weight as if alive and about to expire. I sighed.
    My last doctor visit had been dismaying, to say the least. While I had lost some weight, I was still nearly twenty pounds over the limit for my height. Which is to say, I weighed as much as a small delivery van. Of course, I’m sure none of the champagne and chocolate I ingest has anything at all to do with my failure to lose weight. I’m just big-boned. Really. It runs in my family. Kinda—okay, my twin sister is not big-boned.
    But other than our once sharing a womb and a room, she and I have very little in common. Emerald May Truevine is petite and blonde like our mother. I am a shade over five foot nine with brown hair now benefiting from an auburn wash I bought at Walmart. The name on my birth certificate reads Eureka May Truevine, hence the more pronounceable name Trinket that one of our older brothers gave me as a baby. I suppose Jack thought it in the same general family as an emerald, and had no way of knowing that a trinket is the much less valuable version. Still, it beats people asking me to repeat my name a few times when I first meet them.
    Emerald lives in the Pacific Northwest with a husband and a half dozen or so of their progeny, and rarely comes home for a visit. When she does return, it’s usually with no notice other than a cab arriving at Cherryhill and Daddy having to pay the tab. Then Emerald sleeps for a day or so before rising to come down and go shopping. No husband and children ever come with her. Not that I blame my sister for leaving them behind. That many kids must require the stamina of a grizzly bear, minus the sweet temperament. Still,