Sometimes Quickly Read online

  Table of Contents

  Synopsis

  What Reviewers Say About Anne Laughlin’s Work

  By the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Books Available From Bold Strokes Books

  Synopsis

  Deep in her drunken, womanizing past, Peg Ryan made a terrible mistake. Eighteen years later, she’s sober, a respected lawyer, and in love for the first time. When she takes a call from a former colleague, the distance collapses between her ugly past and her hopeful present. Suddenly, everything she values is under attack.

  When Allison Mitchell meets Peg, she knows what she wants right away. She breaks up with the woman she’s dating to be with her only to discover Camille won’t go away easily; she’s on a mission to destroy Peg and get Allison back.

  Allison and Peg’s new love is threatened from all directions. How will they fight back?

  What Reviewers Say About Anne Laughlin’s Work

  “Veritas is a fun, well-paced, and intriguing mystery with all the components every reader of classic and competent cozies seeks. Satisfying and solid.”—Lambda Literary Review

  “Anne Laughlin’s Veritas is a gripping murder mystery packed with suspense and intrigue. Laughlin’s prose is natural and engaging. Named a Lambda Emerging Writer, Veritas proves Laughlin worthy of the honor.”—AfterEllen.com

  “With Runaway, Anne Laughlin has given us another treat . . . a fun page turner.”—Windy City Times

  Sometimes Quickly

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  Sometimes Quickly

  © 2008 By Anne Laughlin. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-321-9

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, New York 12185

  First Bold Strokes Books Edition: January 2015

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editor: Cindy Cresap

  Production Design: Bold Strokes Books Graphics

  Cover Design By Gabrielle Pendergrast

  By the Author

  Veritas

  Runaway

  The Acquittal

  Sometimes Quickly

  Acknowledgments

  I wrote Sometimes Quickly in 2008, when it was published by P.D. Publishing, a company that’s now gone out of business. My current publisher, Bold Strokes Books, offered to republish the book, after I’d edited it with my “mature eye.” I didn’t give the book a complete rewrite—the plot is the same—but I did smooth out the writing as best I could. I think it’s a better book.

  Back then, I was a petrified author who had a great group of friends cheering me on. Then and now, thanks to Linda Braasch, Carol Anshaw, Joan Larkin, Maureen Seaton, Rita Balzotti, Michelle Sanford, Liz Laughlin, Ann Farlee, Patricia Barber, and Beth Brandt.

  James van Bavel helped me with gun questions. Lisa Noller gave me the lay of the land at the U.S. Attorney’s office and helped with criminal law questions. All errors are solely mine.

  Thanks to Cindy Cresap for her great editing, and everyone at Bold Strokes Books, who have given a new home to this Sometimes Quickly.

  Dedication

  For Linda

  Chapter One

  Saturday, November 22, 2014

  Peg Ryan sat in her new Prius and inched forward along Clark Street. The Saturday afternoon traffic in Andersonville was predictably horrible, but the people on the crowded sidewalks were happy. It was the Christmas shopping season, the lights were strung up on the small trees lining the strip, and the taverns were packed. It was balmy still for a late Chicago autumn.

  She’d bought the car the day before, after nearly a year in Chicago. She’d no need of one in Manhattan, but this was a different kind of town. She was looking forward to exploring its neighborhoods. But at her present pace, a crawling baby could move faster than she was. A bit of space finally opened between cars when she reached the four-way stop at Berwyn. The Range Rover in front of her sped through the intersection. It had been bleating its horn for the last ten minutes, and she was irritated. She hated horn honkers. She picked up some speed as she followed behind it, just as the Rover slammed on its brakes. She smashed into its rear, folding the front of her Prius like an accordion. The airbag deployed and clobbered her in the chest and lower face.

  For a moment, Peg couldn’t take in what had happened. She was bleeding from her nose and lip, and her chest felt like an anvil had dropped on it. As she pushed away the deflating airbag, she heard a thumping noise at her window. A woman stood there pounding the glass and staring at Peg with a terrifically pissed off look on her face. Peg considered staying put in the interest of avoiding further injury, but the ozone from the airbag had drenched the interior, and the smell drove her out. She opened her door with a gasp, pushing Angry Woman back as she did. This, no doubt, was the horn honker.

  Pain shot through her torso, and she wondered if any ribs were broken. She pulled some tissue from the pocket of her white down jacket, the front of which was now smeared with blood, and held it to her bleeding lip. None of this seemed to make an impression on Angry Woman, who slammed Peg’s door shut as soon as she’d cleared it. Peg took a look at her. She was nearly as tall as Peg’s six feet, but looked a bit younger than she was, maybe forty-five or so. Her hair was straight, jet black, and cut into a severe bob that left it swinging across her face. Her features were as sharp and angular as her haircut. If her face wasn’t twisted into a snarl, she’d have been stunning. Now she stood with her legs apart, fists on her hips, and draped in a long cashmere coat.

  Since this was clearly not to be an amiable exchange, Peg tried to adjust her bloody face to look composed and detached. The appearance of calm worked in the courtroom and with most of life’s irritations and problems, of which there seemed to be many lately.

  “I think we should exchange information and let our representatives sort this out,” Peg said before turning her attention to her phone. She wondered if she should call an ambulance.

  “I don’t give a shit what you think we should do,” the woman said, moving a step closer. “The police are on their way.”

  Peg slowly looked around, ignoring the woman, noticing for the first time the cacophony of blaring horns and the people gaping at them from the sidewalk. They were waiting for a fight, no doubt. Cars were threading their way around the accident, honking just to show their irritation. Everyone was angry.

  Peg didn’t engage the woman, knowing a fight was what she wanted. She felt a little woozy, as if she’d been knocked out, and she didn’t think she’d handle the confrontation wel
l. The passenger door to the Range Rover opened, and Peg looked over to see a woman climbing out. She was lovely, with a warm and inviting face and long, silky brown hair. She was wrapped up in a woolen coat. Peg instantly wanted to unwrap her. She had a look of concern when she saw Peg and a look of annoyance when she turned to her companion. She hurried over to them.

  “Camille, what is the problem? This woman is injured. Let’s get her some help and get these cars out of the way.”

  Camille did not relent. “No, we’re waiting for the police. I want them to write her a ticket. You’re a witness.”

  The woman turned back to Peg. “You’re injured. I’m so sorry.”

  “Why are you apologizing to her?” Camille said, her voice barely containing her rage. “She’s in the wrong, not me.”

  “That’s debatable,” the woman said, giving Camille a withering look. She turned back to Peg. “That’s Camille Bardon. I’m Allison Mitchell. Tell me how badly you’re hurt.”

  “I think the crash itself would have hurt a lot less than the airbag. But I’m okay.” She looked down at the blood on her jacket and her hands, some of it dripping onto her white running shoes. “It looks worse than it is.”

  Camille broke in. “By law, she’s in the wrong. She rear-ended me.”

  “Give it a rest, Camille.” She took Peg by the elbow and began to lead her toward the sidewalk. “Let’s sit down on the bench. You don’t look well.”

  Peg wondered what was going on with these women. Camille was a nightmare, and Allison didn’t seem like the kind of woman who’d be with a person like Camille. She enjoyed Allison’s touch on her arm and gladly let herself be led. As soon as she was seated, a police car pulled up. They stayed on the bench, watching as Camille went up to the officer and began presenting her side.

  “She seems a little…volatile,” Peg said.

  “She is a very forceful woman, but I’ve never seen her this way. I’m very sorry,” Allison said.

  “You really don’t have to apologize. Let me give you my name and contact info and we’ll let the insurance companies sort it out.” She handed Allison a card.

  “Thanks.” Allison looked up at Peg, and for a moment she thought she saw interest in her eyes.

  “I’m relieved that your friend isn’t often angry like that. I think I’d worry about you.” Peg was wondering if this accident might not turn out to be a very good thing.

  Allison handed over her card in turn, not moving her eyes from Peg’s. “If this thing gets messy, give me a call. Maybe we can talk about how to work it out.”

  The police officer and Camille came their way. Peg stood and once again ignored Camille. She gave the officer her license and registration and tried to argue against the ambulance the officer had already called. When she turned around, Allison was gone.

  “Where did Allison go?” she asked Camille. She saw the cop was busy writing out a citation.

  “Leave Allison out of this. She’s no concern of yours.” Camille turned to the officer, “Are you writing this woman a ticket?”

  “I haven’t decided. This ticket’s for you, for traveling too fast for conditions.”

  Peg pulled Allison’s card out of her pocket and stared at it, listening with one ear to Camille yelling at the officer.

  *

  Allison had walked the two blocks from the accident scene and was nearly home when her phone rang. She wasn’t surprised to see Camille’s name displayed, and though she was loath to answer the call, she knew she’d not get any peace until she did. She was aware of Camille’s persistence, but the person she saw at the accident scene was new to her.

  “Hi, Camille.”

  “Where are you? One minute you’re there and the next you’ve disappeared.”

  “I decided to walk home and let you finish up on your own. Is there a problem with that?”

  “A problem? No, I don’t think so,” Camille said. “I just thought you’d stay with me. I also thought you’d stick up for me more than you did.”

  Allison saw her opening and took it. “Camille, I don’t stick up for positions I don’t believe in. It’s a little presumptuous of you to think I’d lie for you. You slammed on the brakes when you dropped your stupid phone. You were as much in the wrong as the person who rear-ended you, and frankly, I don’t like what I saw out there.”

  Camille was silent for a bit. “You’re mad at me, aren’t you? I can hear it in your voice.”

  She’d have to have been deaf not to hear it in her voice.

  “I’m upset, I’ll put it that way,” Allison said. “We’ve only been seeing each other a short while, and I saw a side of you today I hadn’t seen before. It concerned me.”

  She walked up the front steps to her house, an old American Foursquare that she’d lovingly rehabbed over the past ten years. She saw Mamie, her calico cat, curled up on the wide window ledge inside the living room, her head swiveling toward Allison when she heard the footsteps. Mamie jumped down to meet her at the door.

  Camille carried on. “I’m really sorry if you were upset by this whole thing. I can explain myself. I promise. I’m coming over.”

  Allison stifled a groan. Why couldn’t Camille say, “I’m sorry I was an ass,” instead of trying to explain things away, smooth them over as if they never happened? It occurred to Allison, in a way it hadn’t before, that Camille’s words and actions were all designed for her to get what she wants, usually under the guise of being charming, clever, reasonable. Even generous. She’d buy you a diamond, but she’d expect loyalty in return. Allison felt a little sick, the necklace she wore suddenly very heavy.

  “Do not come over,” she said with steel in her voice. “You have to leave me alone today, because talking is not going to do either of us any good. You can call me on Monday, but I really need some time to myself right now.”

  There was silence on Camille’s end. Finally, she said, “I just need two minutes to try to make it up to you, Allison. That’s all.”

  “Please don’t argue with me about this.”

  “Okay, okay,” Camille said in a placating tone. “I’ll call you Monday. But, Allison, please remember that I care for you so much. My anger today had nothing to do with you. It was the accident, that woman plowing into us. You could have been hurt. I know we can go back to having fun, like we were right before the crash.”

  “I’ll talk to you Monday.” Allison disconnected and went into her house. She felt relieved and suddenly liberated. She had the evening and the next day to herself, and it felt like a gift. Just an hour before, she’d been enjoying the day and looking forward to a night out with Camille. It was true that Camille had a way about her that made all their dates fun, and fun was the extent of Allison’s ambition when she started dating again. Camille was wealthy, gorgeous, and wickedly good in bed. But there was nothing beyond these superficially felt qualities to draw Allison closer. It wouldn’t take much to topple the illusion that they had any sort of real relationship. And that house of cards wobbled dangerously this afternoon.

  After feeding Mamie, Allison changed into sweats, curled up on the couch, and checked her voicemail. Her real estate practice was having a busy fall season and there were multiple messages waiting for her each time she picked up the phone. This time, there was only one.

  “Allison, it’s Peg Ryan calling. I’m the one who plowed into the Range Rover a little while ago. Anyway, I wanted to make sure you’re okay. You disappeared, so I figured you’d gone home, caught a cab or something. I see from your card that you’re a real estate broker. Your office is just a couple of blocks from the house I’m renting. It looks like my transfer to our Chicago office is going to be permanent, so it’s probably time to buy. Maybe you can help me with that. I’ll be traveling next week, and then there’s Thanksgiving. How about I call you after that? Let me know if there’s any fallout from the accident. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

  Allison wasn’t sure what to make of Peg’s message, but she knew what she’d like to
make of it. She called the number back and left a message to say she’d love to meet with her to look at property. Wouldn’t she do the same with any prospective client? Yes, but not with a flutter in her heart. Peg wasn’t going to be like any client she’d ever had.

  *

  Peg and her friend Morgan stood in the small brick garage behind Peg’s rented house in Lincoln Park, staring at the crumpled front end of Peg’s Prius.

  “Man, that is just cruel,” Morgan said. “You bought it yesterday?”

  “Yep. I was heading north on Clark this afternoon when it happened. I’m glad it’s still running.”

  Morgan shook her head. They were both tall and lanky, dressed in jeans and short jackets. Peg was older by ten years, her salt-and-pepper hair short like Morgan’s, but with reading glasses perched on top. Morgan was dressed for her job, her gun and handcuffs and other accouterments of a homicide detective visible beneath her open jacket. They’d met through a mutual friend at Peg’s law firm and quickly became friends, a true rarity for Peg. Morgan was her only friend in the city.

  “The worst thing about the accident was the passenger in the car ahead of me was someone I’d ask out in a heartbeat, and I can’t remember the last time I felt like that.” Peg fished the business card out of her pocket and handed it to Morgan.

  “I know Allison Mitchell. She’s the broker who helped me buy my place last month. She’s gorgeous. I wanted to go out with her myself, but I was seeing Sandy at the time. Cindy? No, it was Sandy. Hell, I should have asked Allison out, but then she wouldn’t be available for you.” Morgan grinned.