Ill Will

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Book: Read Ill Will for Free Online
Authors: J.M. Redmann
me and not them. I could smell smoke; that was about all my professionalism afforded me.
    Those calls took what was left of my afternoon. Those calls, and because I procrastinated as I didn’t want to make the calls and it seemed that after every two, I had to check the weather online, which caused me to see a news story that I had to read, by which time I had to go to the bathroom and then make tea or get water depending on whether I was feeling cold or hot, which would ensure that I’d have to go to the bathroom again in time for another much-needed-and-well-deserved break.
    Because every call wasn’t just a brief “be on the lookout for” but a shared point of loss. This man had taken from them, their homes, their hopes of rebuilding, or at best the stealing of time and money that would take years to recover from. Now he had taken something from me as well. Every one of them told me to be careful and meant it. Even if Joanne was right—and I fervently hoped that she was—I’d have to be extra cautious, take extra time to make sure no vengeful man with a gas can was lurking about. A clear street at one moment didn’t mean he couldn’t arrive in the next minute or hour, the one time I wasn’t watching because it’s impossible to watch every second.
    At least we have groceries , I thought as I packed to head home. We could make up for the unhealthy shrimp po-boys of last night.

Chapter Four
     
    When I got home, the house was dark and the cats hungry. I had skimmed out sometime after four, but well before five. I can do that since I work for myself, so it made sense that Cordelia wasn’t home yet.
    My procrastinating side debated whether to start dinner now or to wait until after Andy and Torbin came and went.
    Halos and horns. I started dinner and cracked open a beer to keep me company. There was a time in my life when I had a drinking problem—or what I considered a drinking solution to my problems. Not drinking at all had worked pretty well until I was hit with the double blast of Katrina washing away the New Orleans I’d known all my life, and my staid, sensible partner succumbing to the come-on of a famous lesbian doctor she was working with. I’d found out three days before the storm hit, when we all needed to be evacuating or writing wills. Katrina had thrown all our lives apart. And her affair had tossed me down a dark hole that I was still climbing out of.
    Cordelia had stayed in the hellhole of Charity Hospital. It was a week—less, five days—but the person who went there on Sunday wasn’t the person who came out on the following Friday. Whatever the affair had meant before the storm, the person afterward was too battered to build a new life with someone else, especially since that someone else didn’t seem interested in a new girlfriend who was falling apart.
    We had ended up back in New Orleans and ended up back together. On days like today, I had no regrets. I hadn’t been perfect and she hadn’t either. I mostly left it at that.
    But I had started drinking again and wasn’t able to quite stop. Now I just hoped I knew my limits, that I would keep it in the realm of social drinking, one beer while cooking dinner, that I had learned it could only blot out problems, not make them go away.
    I knew Cordelia was concerned, but she didn’t say anything. Maybe after she had fallen so far from grace she didn’t feel she could say anything.
    Garlic was chopped. As long as I didn’t cut my finger off, the one beer would be okay. Tonight would be lemon/garlic chicken with a side of broccoli and some sliced fresh fruit for dessert. I made enough so we could feed Torbin and Andy if need be or have decent leftovers for the next day or so.
    They live down the block from us, and must have been watching, because just as Cordelia parked her car, they were headed toward our house. Andy was cradling his hand and walking slowly.
    I put the chicken in as they met on our front step and entered

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