The Love-Haight Case Files Read Online Free Page B

as Katherine Hepburn had in her later years, but she was tiny, not quite five feet, and shrunken from the years. Her cane was propped against the desk, her overlarge purse next to it. Brock could tell she’d packed up for the day.
    “Good,” Gretchen pronounced. “I like that Mr. Holder. Very polite.” Sometimes she repeated herself.
    “So we go back Monday morning to wrap it up, though we probably won’t get a final judgment until later in the week. Vaughan wants to talk to the children.”
    Gretchen pushed away from the desk and adjusted her thick glasses. “You got a dozen calls to return,” she said, fluttering the pink message sheets before setting them down with a flourish. “Though I suppose some of them have already gone home for the day. Most of them are normals, but you got two from that psychic trying to warn you about something and one from that shape-shifting dog-man.” She opened her desk drawer and pulled out an antique Colt revolver, dropping it in her purse. Thomas knew she kept the gun for protection, but didn’t know if it actually worked.
    “That psychic, she was persistent as all get-out.” Gretchen bent to retrieve her purse and slung it over her shoulder, the weight momentarily setting her off balance. She reached for the cane. “I’m going home.” She toddled to the door. “See you on Monday, Thomas. I have tomorrow off, remember?”
    He remembered. She’d signed up for a day-long senior citizen bus trip to wine country. “You have a good weekend, Gretchen.”
    She turned and looked over her hunched shoulder. “Oh, and Val pestered me pretty much all afternoon. He cut out just before you showed up. Tell him to lay off me, will you? Can’t go through the case paperwork and deal with him at the same time. You tell him that, will you? He never listens to me.”
    “Certainly, Gretchen. Enjoy your week—”
    “I’m hoping for some Zinfandels. I like blackberry zin. Gonna watch the Forty Niners game on Sunday. They’re gonna crush Detroit.” She was gone with the jangling of the bell, heading toward the bus stop that would take her to the San Francisco Towers, the retirement community where she lived.
    Gretchen Cain was Brock’s part-time legal secretary, though she usually kept full-time hours. When he first opened his practice, he hadn’t been able to find a good young or middle-aged legal secretary who would work for his rates. So he hired Gretchen, who’d come in answer to his classified advertisement.
    She’d told him she was bored at the Towers; that retirement hadn’t agreed with her, and that she needed something to keep her occupied. She had a wealth of experience working as a legal secretary, first for the DA’s office and then later for a couple of corporate firms, and Brock, a crusader against discrimination, could hardly turn her away because of her age. He’d found her indefatigable, tolerant of the odd clientele that crossed his threshold, and she’d taught him more than a little bit about the law.
    The ceiling creaked. Evelyn was walking through the apartment above. A moment later he heard the upstairs door shut and the thud of her hurried footsteps down the side stairs. He stepped back behind Gretchen’s desk and stared out the window, moments later seeing Evelyn jog by. She’d changed into blue jeans and a sweatshirt and had one of those messenger bags slung over her shoulder, the faint outline of an iPad inside. It looked like she was going to run to her class rather than wait for the bus; he knew she did that sometimes. Evelyn was in great physical shape, and San Francisco University and its School of Law wasn’t all that far.
    A familiar male voice coalesced in the empty space behind him. “Chick’s a looker, eh? Fine as wine, and no foam domes. I like to watch her, too.”
    Thomas shivered from the instant chill and whirled to see a translucent image hovering a few inches above the floor. As he watched, the details grew sharper; the figure looking