The Last Word Read Free Page B

and his doctor decided it was
     time to quit. At least that was the plan. For now, we did his bidding.
    “I was really hoping to meet your parents today,” Slayter said.
    “I’m sorry that didn’t work out. Next time,” I said, sliding a chair next to my desk.
    Slayter waited until I was seated behind my desk before he took a seat. This dance
     used to take an unusually long time until I figured it out. Women sit first. Once
     I told him that was stupid and it didn’t go over very well. I just sit down now. What’s
     the big deal? It’s not like I can’t vote.
    “Does anyone want coffee?” Demetrius asked.
    “No, thank you,” Slayter said pleasantly.
    “Can I interest you in a freshly baked blueberry muffin?” D asked.
    “Yes!” I said.
    The glorious smell had been wafting into the office for the last twenty minutes.
    “I was talking to Mr. Slayter.”
    “He doesn’t eat things that taste good,” I said.
    Slayter smirked, Demetrius departed, and I sat up straight, gathered my notebook,
     and poised my pen, awaiting further instructions.
    “We’re looking at a company called Divine Strategies Inc. They specialize in niche
     financial software for religious organizations. They got their start with HolyBooks,
     an accounting program for churches, but they’re branching out into other areas. My
     people have already done the financialsand checked for any legal issues and they’re clean. I just want a few background checks
     on the partners and some of the support staff.”
    “Are you looking for anything in particular?” I asked.
    “I just want fresh eyes on it,” Slayter said.
    “Anything else?”
    “My younger brother is coming to visit.”
    “When?”
    “Any day now. He likes to surprise me.”
    “I didn’t know you had a brother.”
    “I haven’t seen him in five years.”
    “Does he know about . . . ?”
    “No.”
    “Are you going to tell him?”
    “Why would I do that?”
    “Because he’s family. You have to tell him.”
    “I’m afraid we don’t have that close bond you Spellmans share,” Slayter said.
    On cue Dad blew his nose so loudly it reverberated throughout the house.
    “No need to brag,” I said. “Still, I think you should consider telling him. At least
     he won’t be offended if you forget his name. What is it, by the way?”
    “Ethan Jones.”
    “Half brother, actor, or took his wife’s name?”
    “Changed it. He had some trouble a while back.”
    “Interesting choice. What kind of trouble?”
    “The kind involving prison.”
    “Now you’ve got my attention,” I said.
    “I should have had it when I walked in the door.”
    “Wow. You having a brother who did time is kind of exciting. I don’t have a brother
     who did time.”
    “That must be very difficult for you.”
    “What did he do?” I asked.
    “What difference does it make?”
    “You can tell me or I’ll waste two hours of my day running a background check.”
    “Ponzi scheme,” Slayter said, studying his shoes.
    “What happened?”
    “A lot of people lost their retirement. He paid back what he could. Did time. Seven
     years in a federal prison.”
    “The good kind,” I said. “I think I’d do okay in a federal prison.”
    Slayter stared out the window, either lost in thought, trying to decipher the argument
     between Sanford and his son, or spacing out, which does sometimes happen.
    “When he got out,” Slayter said, “he used whatever money he had stashed away and opened
     a bar in Los Angeles. He’s good with people. He’s thinking about opening a bar here.
     Or so he says.”
    “That would be great. Because I’ve been looking for a new place to drink.”
    “We need to keep an eye on him.”
    “Which eye? Left? Right?”
    In my entire relationship with Slayter, I’ve never made him laugh, not even when I
     showed up at his office wearing a dress inside out. 3
    “Do you have a safe in your office?”
    “We do.”
    Slayter reached into his breast pocket and pulled