Poison Ivory Read Online Free Page B

to write them. Even when he was in law school (which I helped put him through, by the way), we socialized with judges, small business owners, and even the ministers of some of the area’s larger churches. Sometimes I rode with Buford to a bar at the edge of town, where he met men who wore sunglasses at night and dressed in dark suits. On those occasions I nursed watered-down glasses of rum and Coke and danced by myself.
    When Buford passed the bar he quickly became a force to be reckoned with. In no time at all he made partner in a criminal law firm and his circle of contacts began to extend nationally. Having been raised in a small town, I’d grown up withthe concept of the good old boy network, so I wasn’t taken by surprise. But as much fun as it might sound to meet congressmen and-women. senators, and even the occasional governor, hosting them is a lot of work, even if you hire a caterer.
    Why, there was that one time he brought home a drunken Texas oilman who had aspirations to be President…
    “Abby, have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”
    “Uh—mostly. Be honest, Buford: you do have a tendency to pontificate.”
    Buford frowned and his eyes disappeared behind newly acquired folds of fat. “Call your mama, Abby, and have her bring some clean clothes. Tell her to make it a dress—a suit, if you have one. Heels, but not too high, and hose are a must. Got that?”
    I saluted. “Yes, sir!”
    “I’m doing this for our children, Abby. So be a smartass, I don’t care; but our children don’t deserve to have a convict for a mother.”
    “I’m sorry, Buford. This is all so surreal—us here , in a jail.”
    A fleshy hand reached across for one of mine. My instinct was to jerk it away. Not only was Buford supposedly happily married, but he’d traded me in when I turned forty to a woman who was twenty years old and at least twenty percent silicone. But I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt; perhaps he really was just being kind.
    After a very awkward minute or two I pulled gently out of his grasp. “Buford, I ordered a rosewood commode for Mama’s birthday. Since when has rosewood become contraband?”
    “That’s just it, Abby. The crate that you came to pick up didn’t contain rosewood—in any form—it was ivory.”
    “Ivory? But I didn’t buy any ivory. It’s illegal to import ivory, unless it’s more than a hundred years old, or the tusks in question are one’s hunting trophy.”
    “Exactly. But someone in Charleston has been on the receiving end of a great deal of illegal ivory. That’s why the Feds may have come down a little hard on you.”
    “A little hard on me? Buford, your children’s mother was practically beaten into the pavement—”
    “They beat you?”
    “No. But they tried to handcuff me. They also swore at me. And they were anything but gentle with Cheng—formerly known to you as C.J.”
    He nodded; I’m not sure he was still listening. “Now here, take my phone and call your mama. And while we’re waiting for her to show up, I’ll have the matron take you someplace for a shower. You certainly can’t appear in front of a judge smelling like that.”
    I did the pit sniff test and nearly passed out. “I’ll tell Mama to bring some deodorant,” I said. I swallowed a huge lump of pride. “Buford, thanks. Really. This is awfully nice of you. Just so you know, I insist on paying you your regular goingrate; no special breaks for me just because I’m an ex-family member.”
    His jowls quivered, his double chin trembled, and he licked his lips with a tongue as pale and unappetizing as boiled cow’s liver. “There’s no need to think about payment just yet, Abby. I’m sure we’ll come to an understanding once this little unpleasantness is behind you.”
    I reeled, just as surely as if I’d been slapped. “Buford, are you suggesting that payment be—uh, of a personal nature?”
    “And why not?” Buford said. “After all, we are both over