The Professor (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #1)(3)

That was the deal, and every man on the yard abided by it. And Dewey knew things were only going to get worse. There were rumors that Jack was talking merger with several of the big dogs up east, and the deal could be worth hundreds of millions. To get the price he wanted, Jack needed two things. More revenue and more customers.

Which means my crazy ass schedule is only going to get crazier.

Dewey gritted his teeth, wishing that he could just quit. He had two girls at home. A wife. I’m missing it, he knew. I’m missing their whole life. But if he quit, he’d have to go back to $7-an-hour gigs, moving from job to job, town to town, without any chance of a future. He and Wilma had talked about it a million times. Jack Willistone was a sonofabitch, but he paid almost double what Dewey could make working anywhere else. After the last speeding ticket, Dewey had wanted to quit. He had even filled out his notice. But Wilma wouldn’t let him hand it in. “My girls are going to college. They ain’t going to be waiting tables like me. We’re going to do whatever we have to do to make that happen.”

I can’t quit, Dewey knew, glancing again at the clock. 10.36am.

George Strait’s “Amarillo by Morning” burst out of the speakers of the radio, and Dewey whispered “finally” in approval of the DJ’s choice. He took a deep breath and tried to relax. The highway had dipped a little, but he could still see the top of the gas station and the green of the stoplight.

Stay green, baby...

The speed limit on Highway 82 was 65. Pressing the accelerator down until he reached 80 miles per hour, Dewey Newton began to come out of the dip on Highway 82.



Bob Bradshaw hated Highway 82. But there was no quicker or more direct route from Montgomery to Tuscaloosa. And I need this to be quick, he thought, knowing that the word “quick”, or rather “quick visit”, was a foreign concept to his mother-in-law. Bob shook his head, thinking of Richard T. McMurphy, his partner and boss, who would be riding Bob hard when he returned to the office tomorrow after eight days at the beach.

“Cows!” Nicole screamed from the back seat, jarring Bob from his fit of worry. He glanced to his left and saw that they were passing a cattle farm. He could see it and, a few seconds later, could smell the evidence. Ah, manure. Perfect, Bob thought, wondering if his mood was going to improve any time soon.

“That’s right, honey. You’re a smart girl. How do cows go?” Jeannie Bradshaw, Nicole’s mother, asked.

“Mooooo!” Nicole answered, smiling.

Bob smiled too. If anything could lift his spirits, it was his little girl. Nicole was really coming along, and her new trick was yelling out things she recognized while riding in the back seat.

“Can you believe she’ll be three in a couple of months?” Bob asked, one hand on the wheel and the other pushing the stop button on the CD player.

“I can’t even believe she’s two,” Jeannie said, sighing. “Seems like just yesterday…” But she didn’t complete her thought and she didn’t have to. Bob knew. It seems like just yesterday we were bringing her home from the hospital. Life was moving fast, and, with any luck, Nicole would have a brother or sister in a year or so.

“Sign!” Nicole yelled from the back as they passed a green sign, indicating “Tuscaloosa, 50 miles.” Bob looked at his watch. 10.30am.

“Making good time,” he said, more to himself than Jeannie, who just nodded. They had gotten an early start that morning and might make it home by 6pm. Bob grimaced, thinking again of McMurphy and the piles of paper that undoubtedly lay on top of his desk. Lawyers needed vacations just like everyone else. But it’s a bitch coming back.

Bob sighed and glanced at the gas gauge, which was getting perilously close to “E”.

“Christ,” Bob said, again more to himself.

“Gas?” Jeannie said, reading his mind.

“Yeah.” And Bob again wondered whether this detour was worth it. He really needed to get back, and Tuscaloosa was not on the way. Ruth Ann would probably be coming to Huntsville soon anyway.

“She’s really excited about seeing us,” Jeannie said. After nine years of marriage, Jeannie had become an expert at telling what Bob was thinking.

“I know, hon. It’s just...”

“You’ll get it all done, you always do. But Mom’s been going through a tough time since Dad died, and we promised.”

“OK,” Bob said. He had already lost this battle a couple of weeks ago, and there was no use pouting. Besides, he had planned around it. They would visit with Ruth Ann for a while, eat lunch, and try to get back on the road by 2.30 or 3pm, which would put them in Huntsville by 6pm. A quick visit.

Like that’s going to happen, Bob thought now, feeling discouraged and a little foolish. When Jeannie and her mother got together, the best made plans usually got thrown out the window. It had been over a month since Ruth Ann had seen Jeannie and Nicole. After lunch, presents, girl talk and God knows what else, they’d be lucky to get out of there by dark. The plan would fail. Trying to plan around a bunch of women... He stopped the thought. There was a gas station up ahead.

“Here we go,” Jeannie said, and Bob knew she was talking about the Texaco sign.

“We told Ruth Ann noon, right?” Bob asked. There was a stoplight next to the station, but he couldn’t tell yet if he should go past it to get to the Texaco or turn at the light and come in the back door.