Sticks & Stones (A Hollis Morgan Mystery) Read Free

glad to see you !”
    Hollis smiled at the tall man in her doorway. George Ravel was a good boss. He had twenty years on her in age, but his youthful outlook and good nature closed a good part of the gap . He dressed like he lived, down to earth. She was glad he hadn’t changed. He was more like a peer.
    “You know, it feels great to be back.”
    “How did it go?” He occupied the only guest chair in her office.
    Hollis took the next few minutes to recount bar exam details. George listened intently. He could appreciate her description and knew exactly what she had been through.
    “Anyway, ” Hollis concluded, “except for the last essay I’m feeling pretty good. But I’ve heard much the same from people who’ve crashed and burned.”
    “Hey, hey, don’t look so glum. It’s all over now.”
    “George, almost half the room was filled with people who had failed the exam at least once. One guy failed three times.”
    “What’s your point?” George said. “They’re not you. But now that you bring it up, I kind of like the idea of you being my paralegal for life.”
    Hollis laughed. “No way, buddy, take advantage of my skills now ’cause come fall, I’m out of here.”
    He grinned. “Good, that sounds more like you. But while you’re still here I could sure use your help. Take some time to get back into gear. Then let’s meet around ten o’clock to go over cases with our new associate.”
    Hollis glanced over to her in-box.
    George had meant what he said; he was glad to see her. She glanced through the stack of filings and a shorter stack of correspondence needing responses. After thirty minutes of flipping through files, she realized that—improbable as it was—some of these cases seemed to be where she’d left them months ago. She felt challenged, rather than overwhelmed, knowing she’d have everything up to date in short order.
    Hollis punched in Cathy’s cell number and got her machine again. “Cathy, you’ve sold me. I want to help. Give me a call at the office.” She also sent a text message.
    Where was Cathy? Last night she’d pushed hard for an instant decision.
    In George’s ten o’clock meeting, she met Tim Walker, a new associate attorney on their team. Hollis could tell this was his first job. Young and a little gawky, he was rightly embarrassed when Ed, on his way out, pointed to his one navy blue and one black sock. In response, the new associate’s cheeks and rather prominent ears turned beet red. Hollis, concentrating on going through papers, pretended not to hear or see a thing.
    George followed her example.
    “Hollis, we have a case that came in right after you left. It took a while to ascertain there were no heirs, and now the client’s house is listed for sale. The furniture needs to be inventoried and sold through an auction house. Ordinarily, I’d give it to you, but ….” his voice uncharacteristically drifted.
    “I’ll be fine. I’m not traumatized.” She reassured him. She knew George hesita ted because the last time she inventoried a client’s assets it resulted in her being left for dead. She had trusted her then-manager emotionally and professionally and he had joined her list of betrayers. But other than random unintentional looking back—she didn’t. She refused to be defined by obstacles.
    “Good.” George read from a thin folder. “Margaret Koch was a Triple D client who died and left the firm the executor of her estate. No relatives came forward, and because of the size of her estate, we hired an investigator to make sure there were no heirs.”
    “If Hollis is handling Koch, I’ll file the request for the Miller probate hearing,” Tim said, scribbling like a maniac. “Uh, what court are we talking about?”
    “Probate Court, Department Seven.” George looked at him with curiosity. “If you need help, let Hollis know. We’re a little behind on this one but it’s not complicated.”
    Hollis reached for the file. “Sure, be glad to