Promise Twice

The disheveled blonde supported herself against the door frame, her head pressed against the wood. A glistening drop of blood ran from one nostril, sliding down her upper lip.

"Things are really screwed up, Carter. I need your help." Her legs folded beneath her and she landed in a sprawl half in and half out of the doorway.

Carter Kane whirled back from her jigsaw puzzle in surprise. Scotty sat frozen in amazement, a half-eaten roll from Cinnabon held in mid-air. They both moved forward at the same time.

"New client, I hope." Scotty bent to help Carter tug the limp figure inside.

"Former client. Renewed perchance. This is Hester Judson Fallon, of the vintner family Feltland. I did some research for her on early California land grants, the original diseños."

Carter felt for a pulse while Scotty closed the door.

"Let's get her to the couch." She lifted Hester under the arms, Scotty grabbed the legs.

Scotty shrugged. "So how come I don't know her?"

"You must have heard me mention her, we've met for lunch now and then. Last summer she asked me to research those diseños and the charters relating to the Feltland vineyards. Two days of research."

"Right. Last August. So what does she need, nine one one or caffeine?"

"Her pulse is fast, but her breathing's steady. I think she just fainted. She's not the type to want a foofarah. Let’s wait a few more minutes before sounding an alarm."

Hester had lost weight since she'd seen her last, and was obviously stressed. Forty-something, still slim, dressed in a tailored navy silk pantsuit, carrying a burgundy handbag that matched low-heeled Ferragamo shoes. Shoulder-length ash blond hair, blue-green eyes, a high forehead, straight nose, a firm chin. Dignified. What Zave used to describe as the poised Grace Kelly look. A bruised welt was beginning to show above her right eyebrow.

"On the way here my car was forced off the road. It's more banged up than I am. Guess I'm lucky. It could've been serious."

"Forced accidental or forced on purpose?" Scotty asked.

"Wish I knew. Whoever was in the other car certainly didn't stop to find out if I was okay. On purpose? Hell--I've got to find that out. I've had a weird feeling for the past few days that someone's been watching me." Hester rubbed her knee.

Carter leaned forward. "Can you describe the car that hit you?"

"I didn't see much, just a blur, but dark, muddy. Guess I hit my head on the steering wheel when I went into the ditch. I really don't remember. Two men in a pickup stopped and they managed to get my car back on the road. It makes funny sounds but it got me here, at any rate." She took a deep breath, then laughed, a mixture of an involuntary giggle and a sob.

Scotty's expression indicated she thought Hester Fallon was making funny sounds, too.

"Do you want me to call the police?" Carter asked.

"No!" She winced as she shook her head. "No police. They're the last thing I need right now."

"Well, what do you need?"

Scotty made a growling sound. "Obviously you, Carter. You call yourself a polygamist, this is something right up your alley."

"A what?" Carter did a double take, Hester looked puzzled.

"A polygamist, you know, someone involved in other people's problems."

"You mean a polypragmatist."

"Whatever. The point is this job's made for you."

Hester nodded slowly. "She's right. My only logical choice, the only person I could think of, even before this happened, and I haven't changed my mind. You helped me last year, and you’re Hawaiian, ohana, so I know you’ll understand. I need your kokua, your help."