Chapter 11: The Not So Legal Way
That night I had to force myself to eat the meal Bernadette prepared. I’d been picking at the grilled chicken salad for some time without any sign of enthusiasm, while Bernadette sat across from me, sipping wine, tapping away at her laptop in between bites.
I told her about my conversation with Frieda and my run in with Maria and her rosary.
“Those women don’t seem to have an ounce of empathy or compassion. Why in hell are they working there?”
“I agree if it’s something like sympathy.”
“It is,” she said. “Very much like that.”
Bernadette picked at her food, and then took a long swallow of wine. “Well I found out something important.” She forked a large piece of chicken, shoved it in her mouth, and this started another one of her coughing fits. “Not a…
