Page 51 of Collateral Claim

“No.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“I could’ve sworn?—”

“Drop it.”

Dec grins from ear to ear.

The dense, overhanging branches protect us from much of the rain, so I roll down the window. “You’ve made your point, luv. Come inside the car now.”

Wet beige dress clings to her hourglass figure while rain drips from the strands of her dark hair. Scarlett keeps her gazeahead. “What makes you think I’m making a point? Maybe I like walking.”

“If you get in the car, I’ll let you walk all over me.”

That makes her laugh.

Her phone rings again. It’s not the sister’s ringtone. I read the caller ID. “Anthony Wisker. Who’s that?”

“None of your business.”

“You can tell me who that is, or I can find out on my own by thoroughly invading his privacy.”

“He’s from the charity. You screwed up their luncheon plans, and he’s probably calling me to tell me I’m no longer on the committee since I can’t meet my commitments to them.”

“They’d dump you after one no-show?” Vicious.

“I don’t know what the policy is since I’ve never not shown up. Never thought I would. I meet my obligations. I come through for people.”

“I’m trying to do the same for my brother.”

“I know.”

“What was that?”

She rolls her eyes and doesn’t repeat herself, but I heard her. She understands where I’m coming from. Not that I need her justification or understanding, but I like that she’s able to walk in my boots. In a manner of speaking.

The phone rings again. “He’s persistent.”

“There’s another luncheon tomorrow. I won’t make that one, and I have no phone, so I can’t cancel. The luncheon’s organizer is one of my good friends, and the one before it, I canceled at the last minute. I still feel bad about that, which you can’t help me with, but there are donors who come to these luncheons to socialize with me. They’re elderly and enjoy having a doctor answer their calls whenever they need something. I make house calls, you know. In exchange, and as a token of appreciation,they make donations to my favorite charity. Since I’m not there, they won’t show up or donate now.”

“Huh. I think that’s the most you’ve ever said to me. What if I donated?”

Scarlett slows but doesn’t look at me. “It’s the least you could do.”

I pull out my phone and open my banking app. “Give me their information.”

“Right now?” She stops, head down, hands on her hips. Water drips from her hair and the top of her nose.

“Yes, right now. Later, you might piss me off, and I’ll change my mind.”

With a smile, she recites the charity’s name, and that’s all you need nowadays to send money. I type in an amount, but then think better of it and step out of the car. Since she’s being stubborn and won’t even look at me, I step into her line of sight and tap my foot on top of her foot. She taps back.

Cute. I do it again.

She kicks me in the shin. Ouch. “Why are you so violent today?”