P.J. Morse - Clancy Parker 01 - Heavy Mental Read Online Free Page B

fragile bones of any person alive. There were very few times I remembered her being without a cast, a crutch, or a sling.
    This didn’t stop her from leaving the house and mingling with society, though. She had a reputation for wearing the snazziest casts in town. She would hire local painters to dress up her injury of the month—or week—with detailed landscapes. Once, when she broke her collarbone while navigating a wine cellar staircase in perilous pumps, she had a sling custom-made with a copy of Warhol’s Marilyn.
    Another time, Mom even braved Slim’s one night when the Marquee Idols opened for an act out of Austin. I left messages with Mom to bring earplugs and to leave the nice clothes at home—not because she wouldn’t fit in, but because she was used to well-lit gallery openings, and a dark, boozy bar might bring out her awkward side.
    Alas, I couldn’t save Mom from herself. My mom’s first and last visit to one of my shows ended early and badly when she bumped into a burly barfly while trying to secure a table. Not only did the barfly accidentally spill a glass full of beer all over her and her Louis Vuitton clutch, but he also shattered her wrist. No matter. After a trip to the emergency room, Mom had a cast made that matched the brown-and-gold pattern on her clutch.
    Despite her physical limitations, Mom’s one good arm was busy. She gave Sabrina a steady stream of tissues, and Sabrina was slumped over, pressing the tissues into her face and crying.
    “Hi, Mom. Hi, Sabrina. I’m glad you came back,” I said, tiptoeing in and gently placing my guitar case on the ground. After what I had seen before, I didn’t want to startle Sabrina with any sudden moves.
    In the middle of tissue-passing, Mom slowly spun her free index finger around the side of her head, warning me what was to come with the universal sign for crazy. She mouthed, “I’m sorry.”
    That reaction wasn’t normal for Mom. Most of the clients Mom sent my way were good ones who paid on time and just wanted to wreak havoc on the lives of their ex-husbands. But Sabrina’s needs were unclear, and I wasn’t sure if her needs were even clear to herself.
    I nodded to Mom and flashed a thumbs-up to indicate that I could handle whatever was coming. I pulled my rolling desk chair alongside the Barcalounger. Then I crouched down close, as if I were merely a confidant instead of a hired gun.
    “I … I can’t say it …” Sabrina sobbed.
    “Detective-client privilege,” I said and looked at Mom. “Mom, thank you for bringing her here. Do you think you can hang out with Harold and Anmol for a while?”
    Mom shrugged and stuck out her lower lip. She hated to miss out on the action. She adored nothing more than gossip. “Well, I guess so. Are you sure, Sabrina?”
    Sabrina nodded.
    Mom patted Sabrina on the leg and left, walking toward the front door, but she kept looking back as if she hoped Sabrina would change her mind and let her listen in.
    I wouldn’t put it past Mom to listen in at the door. While Sabrina smothered her face in tissues, I mouthed, “Don’t even think about it.”
    She mouthed back, “Love you, too.”
     

CHAPTER 6
    NOT-SO-SMALL POTATOES
    O NCE M OM WAS GONE, S ABRINA pressed her tissues into her face even harder, muffling the words that followed. “I wanted to give away my necklace for a good cause! Your mother wouldn’t understand!”
    I leaned in. We had reached the point where I was going to have to pretend like I knew what she was talking about so I could draw out information. “I just want you to tell me where you left it. I’m not going to judge. And Mom’s lost plenty of jewelry herself. Believe me, compared to what I’ve seen, lost jewelry is small potatoes.”
    Then Sabrina lowered her tissues and turned to me with a look of fear that almost made me want to call the police. “Two million dollars worth of small potatoes?”
    I gulped. I figured the jewelry she was talking about was expensive and