Poison Ivory Read Online Free Page A

utterly shocked by who I saw standing there.
    “You know, Abby,” he said, “I always thought you were ravishingly beautiful, but to be brutally honest, you would be a mite more attractive if you closed your gaping maw.”
    I brought my petite lips together for a second. “My mouth’s too small to be a maw—but never mind that. What are you doing here?”
    “Abby, is that any way to greet your ex?”
    “But Greg said he was getting me an attorney!”
    “And so he did; you’re looking at him.”
    “I’m looking at a man in a two thousand dollar suit, who practices law up in Charlotte. I repeat my question, Buford: what are you doing here?”
    “Abby, Abby, Abby, I see you haven’t changed one iota. You’re still the little spitfire I married…what was it? Twenty years ago?”
    “Twenty-six. Our daughter, Susan, is twenty-five. You do remember her, don’t you?”
    “Vaguely. Don’t we have a son as well?”
    I tried mightily not to smile. As husbands go, Buford might have been the slime on the ooze on the muck at the bottom of the pond, but at least he’d always been a decent father—given the circumstances.
    “Seriously, Buford, are you licensed to practice law in South Carolina?”
    Buford pulled out a chair and eased his ever growing bulk onto it. He’d been buff when we met at the water park, back in the days when we were both college students. Since then success had gone to his head, and biscuits and chicken fried steak had gone to his stomach, and one had to squint to get a glimpse of the same Buford Timberlake I’d said “I do” to at the Episcopal Church of Our Savior up in Rock Hill just over a quarter of a century ago.
    “Abby, I’m sorry to be the bearer of such bad news, but you’ve been charged with a federal crime, not a state crime. And yes, I am qualified to represent you in front of a federal judge.”
    “ What federal crime? I don’t even know the charges.”
    “What do you mean you don’t know the charges? Weren’t they read to you?”
    ‘ “Contraband goods.’ That’s all I’ve been told. For all I know, I’m being accused of importing lipsticks made in Shanghai that are fifty percent lead—which I’m not!”
    A smile pushed Buford’s jowls apart in an agreeable fashion. “Hell’s bells,” he said, “I think we just caught ourselves our first break. This arrest is not going to stick.”
    I felt woozy with relief. “It’s not?”
    “Nope. Now we just have to worry about the second set of charges. They’re not federal, by the way.”
    “Since I’m having trouble following any of this, please explain.”
    “It concerns your behavior in the holding tank.”
    “Buford, I am not a prostitute. Not that I’m judging those women, mind you, but my business is still very successful, and I’m still happily married, and as monogamous as a goose.”
    “I can’t say I’m happy for that last bit of news, but I’m not surprised either. Anyway, you’re not accused of being a prostitute—you’re being charged with inciting a riot.”
    I couldn’t believe my ears. The day was going from awful to extremely horrible. Was there an even worse category waiting for me around the next bend?
    “That’s patently false,” I protested. “A riot? The women were just laughing. How does that constitute a riot?”
    “According to the guard, they were out of control because you had physically assaulted one of the other detainees.”
    “Is that what I am? A ‘detainee’?”
    “Well, you haven’t been arraigned yet. But you will be—on your new charges—in about an hour.” Buford’s jowls jiggled again. “You can be grateful that I’m well-connected, Abby. Congressmen, senators, heck, even the President is a golfing buddy these days. You know what they say, don’t you? A little charm goes a long way.”
    So does a little fertilizer. In my opinion Buford had always been too well-connected. In college he had channels through which to obtain papers, rather than have