Read The Tolling of Mercedes Bell: A Novel for Free Online Page A

sarcastically.
    Simone and Caroline exchanged a look.
    “Now, where were we?” Mercedes asked, looking at the stacks of files.

    T WO MORNINGS LATER, Mercedes went to Stuart’s office to deliver a project. His lamp was on and his briefcase was open, but he wasn’t there, so she dropped the memo into his in-box. Outside the window, the lake was partially occluded by long arms of fog stretching across the water, dampening and darkening everything it touched.
    She turned away from the view to see what all the commotion inthe hallway was about. A tiny woman was leading a stocky fellow with a toolbox into the paralegal room. Mercedes’s curiosity was roused, and she followed them.
    “It’s over here,” the woman pointed authoritatively. “I can’t get it to print. Something must be wrong with the connection.”
    The man nodded and put down his toolbox. They were setting up equipment in the unused cubicle at the end of the room. Mercedes groaned inwardly. It was already hard enough for the three paralegals to concentrate during the workday.
    “Hi, I’m Mercedes Bell,” she said when they emerged. She tried to look hospitable.
    “I hope we haven’t been bothering you. I’m Melanie Moran,” the small woman offered. “I’m Jack Soutane’s secretary, and this is Hank. He’s helping us get everything installed. Ms. Kinsey said we could put the printer in here. I hope you don’t mind.”
    When Melanie smiled, her whole face radiated happiness, especially her chestnut brown eyes, which were rimmed in dark eyeliner. Straight blond hair hung past her waist. She was lovely, poised, and obviously comfortable in her own skin.
    “No problem. Welcome to the office. I’m sure we’ll work it all out,” Mercedes replied.

    B Y EARLY AFTERNOON THE FOG had cleared and bright sunshine warmed the Grand Lake neighborhood. Mercedes went out for her usual lunch-hour walk around the lake. Sea gulls circled over the water’s surface, keening and flapping their white wings. She was listening to a cassette of Bach’s Double Violin Concerto on the Sony Walkman that Darrel had given her for Christmas. With the ecstatic sound filling her ears, she walked the three-mile circumference, hands in pockets, deep in thought.
    When she returned to the office, stout men were coaxing an immense cherrywood desk out of an elevator, angling it cautiously onto a carpet-padded dolly. Had it been a fraction of an inch wider, the desk would never have made it.
    She picked up her messages from reception and started reading them as she went down the hall. Rounding the corner, she looked up. There, at the end of the long carpeted hallway, stood Jack Soutane outside his new office, talking quietly to Melanie. He was leaning over, compensating as best he could for the great disparity between their heights. He was in shirtsleeves and impeccable gabardine trousers. Not a hair on his head was out of place.
    Mercedes looked down again before he spied her. Slipping into the paralegal room, she took a breath and remembered how she and Germaine had moved into their house, frazzled, sweaty, and dirty, hauling every blessed box out of the car themselves—not knowing where the next month’s rent would come from.
    She sat down at her workstation and was on the phone interviewing a witness when Melanie entered the paralegal room, closely followed by Jack. Catching the subtle scent of his cologne, Mercedes turned to face the open file and continued questioning the witness.
    Jack and Melanie, speaking softly, began a test print on the dot matrix printer. A terrible screeching sound ensued, like prey in the claws of a predator. Mercedes put her pen down and stuck a finger in her ear, continuing her telephone interview. Simone stopped dictating at once, stood up, scowling, and left the room. Lindsay was putting a messy stack of documents in order at her desk and happily continued.
    With her test page printed, Melanie left the room. Jack said to Lindsay in a gentle rumble