Sedona Law 5 by Dave Daren (e book reader android .TXT) 📗

worked. She’s just got so many inner demons.”

AJ dipped a kale chip in the salsa bowl and tasted it.

“Oh my gosh,” she groaned as she stuffed the rest of the chip into her mouth. “This stuff is so good.”

“Oh, I love to hear that,” my mom exclaimed with a happy smile. “Take a jar home to your family. And why don’t you guys give them out to your clients?”

“We could keep a few on hand,” I suggested, although I didn’t see myself handing out jars of salsa during a deposition. “You’re under arrest, but don’t forget your salsa.”

“Well,” my mom chuckled, “I’ll let you guys--wait what is this music?”

We all laughed.

“It’s Bollywood techno we found in Jerry’s safe,” AJ told her.

“Well,” my mom nodded approvingly, “I’m glad you have finally gotten some good musical taste. Such a good piece.”

“You know this song?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah,” she said. “This is an ancient prayer for soul rain. It’s Gaelic.”

“Gaelic?” I questioned and furrowed my brow.

AJ turned it up, and my mother was right. The language had changed. Not that I spoke Gaelic or anything.

“Yeah,” my mom said as she hummed the melody. “This is a Druidic prayer to call down healing for the soul. It was commonly used during a death, or love lost.”

“That would be appropriate for this guy,” Vicki commented.

“How many languages did this guy know?” I wondered.

“Well,” my mom said, “I’ll let you guys get back to your work.”

“Thanks for the salsa,” AJ replied as she shoved another chip into her mouth.

“You bet.” My mom winked and left the office.

“I love your mom,” AJ sighed.

“She has her moments,” I chuckled.

“She’s so awesome,” AJ added with a wild gesture of her hand. “She does everything. I feel like I just want to sit at her feet and learn.”

“She does do a lot of stuff,” I said with a smile.

“I mean,” AJ went on, “how do you learn how to deliver a baby? That’s so cool! And then she teaches yoga, and does macrame, and I don’t even know what else, and now she makes salsa. That’s the kind of woman I want to be. One who does everything. Argh! She’s so cool!”

“How’s your play going?” I asked to deflect from the worship of Saffron Irving.

“Ugh,” she groaned as she pulled up the file on her laptop. “I was working on it earlier. So far, I’ve got some British forces doing a synchronized dance to a parody of I’m Sexy and I Know It, by LMFAO. I’ll call it I’m A Redcoat and I Know It.”

Vicki and I laughed.

“I’d actually watch this play,” I said.

“I’ve spent too long writing the lyrics, though,” AJ grumbled. “I think I’ve lost the goofy mood. So, I sent it to Landon who’s having his friend with a parody website work on it.”

“So, we’ve got dancing Redcoats, and what else?” Vicki asked.

“I think I’ll throw in some current references,” AJ mused as she tapped her chin. “Like Thomas Jefferson at the Continental Congress saying he invented the internet, and then everyone looks at him weird and then he’s like, ‘I mean light bulb, light bulb.’ And then he’s like, ‘By jove, it must have been that flux capacitor again. I knew I shouldn’t have stopped in the ‘90’s with their 56K modems. All I wanted to do was see the last of the polar bears.’”

“I like this,” I laughed, “this is good stuff.”

AJ shrugged. “I’m having fun, so you know.”

“You should have the colonial soldiers have a dance, too,” Vicki suggested with a grin.

“Yeah,” AJ nodded, “I thought of that, but I couldn’t think of a song for them. But I think I’ll work in someone reading some really, really bad poetry. And it’s supposed to be this super cool moment in history, and everyone’s like staring at them in the poetry reading and going, ‘You’re really bad. Like really bad.’”

Vicki and I laughed at this idea, and she and AJ continued to brainstorm about the play. While they did that, I looked at the e-mail AJ sent me early of the Wright Way bankruptcy report.

I read the report and researched Wright Way and Paul and Peter Wright, and their Second Chance Men’s Center. I wondered why we’d never really delved into this angle before. Well, it could have been we are trying to solve a murder case for the most hated man in town, in less than a week.

The probability that loose ends will get dropped is really high.

After some searching, I found the offending article Jerry had written for The Herald. The story stated Olliver Morales, a contractor for Wright Way, had fallen off a scaffolding and broken a rib, a leg, an ankle, and had severe lacerations and suffered a temporary concussion.

Wow. This guy was done in.

The Wright’s insurance paid a settlement for over a million dollars to the guy, and Peter and Paul personally apologized to him, went to his house, and organized a meal rotation for his wife and kids while he was in the hospital, among other things.

But, when Morales was in the hospital, Jerry came to visit him. Jerry told Morales not to be blinded by the kindness the Wright’s had shown after the accident. They were only trying to cover their asses, and all of their efforts could be construed as an admission of guilt, and he could sue the pants off them. So, Morales did, and he ended up with six million. Now, the Wright’s were flat broke.

“Did we ever call Morales’ wife?” I asked.

“Yes,” AJ said. “She wouldn’t talk to me.”

“Hmm,” I hummed thoughtfully and tapped a pen on the table. “Do we have an employee list from the Wright’s?”

“No,” AJ shook her head, “I didn’t ask him for that.”