Рита Браун - Pay Dirt

"Kerry, I told you I can't handle a crisis in my home life and at work at the same time. And right now you're looking down the barrel of a gun." He stopped. "Sorry, it's a figure of speech. Let me get through this thing at work and then I can attend to Aysha."

"Attend to Aysha first," she pleaded.

"It's not that easy. She's not diat easy."

"I know diat. She used to be my best friend, remember?"

"Kerry"—he flicked the cigarette into the grass—"maybe I should give my marriage a chance. Maybe the stress at work has blunted my, uh—kept me from feeling close to Aysha."

Kerry, shaking lighdy, said, "Please don't do that. Don't jerk me around. Aysha cares only for Aysha."

"I don't want to jerk you around, but I'm in no condition to make a major decision, and neither are you. Monday I passed Hogan's office. Blood was splattered on the wall. It made me sick. Every time I went downstairs I passed the mess. If you'd seen the blood, you'd be shook too." He shuddered. "I can't take this."

"Time isn't going to make you love Aysha."

"I loved her once."

"You thought you did."

"But what if I do? I don't know what I feel."

Kerry threw her arms around him and kissed him hard. He kissed her back. "What do you feel now?"

"Confused. I still love you." He shrugged. "Oh, God, I don't know anything. I just want to get away for a while."

He reached out and kissed her again. They didn't hear the soft crunch moving toward them.

"Kerry, you slut ." Aysha hauled off and belted her. "A murderer and a slut."

Norman grabbed his wife, pulling her away. "Don't hit her. Hit me. This is my fault."

"Shut up, Norman. I know this bitch inside and out. Whatever I have, she has to have it. She's competed with me since we were tiny. It just never stops, does it, Kerry?"

"I had him first!"

The shouting grew louder. Harry and Miranda walked out of the house because of the shouting just as Cynthia Cooper stepped out from behind a big oak. She moved toward the trio.

"You didn't want him. You were going to bed with Jake Berryhill at the same time."

Kerry's face was distorted in rage. "Liar."

"You told me yourself. You said you knew that Norman loved you and he was sweet but he was boring in bed." Aysha relished the moment.

Kerry screamed, "You bitch!"

Again Norman pulled them apart with the help of Cynthia. He was mortified to see her.

"For God's sake, keep your voices down. The Freelys don't deserve this!" Harry's lips tightened as she ran over.

"Norman, tell her you're leaving her."

"I can't." Norman seemed to shrink before everyone's eyes.

Kerry's sobs transformed into white-hot hate. "Then I hope you drop dead!"

She twisted away from Cynthia, who caught her. "Time for a ride home until you are formally charged." She pushed Kerry into the squad car.

Norman meekly addressed the little group. "I apologize."

"Go home," Harry said flatly.

Aysha turned and preceded Norman to their car as her mother pushed open the front door. Ottoline called out to her daughter and son-in-law, but they avoided her.

Miranda folded her arms across her chest and shook her head. "Norman Cramer?"

—

Re-inking the postage meter meant sticky red ink on her fingers, her shirt, and the counter too. No matter how hard she tried, Harry managed to spill some.

Mrs. Hogendobber brought over a towel and wiped up the droplets. "Looks like blood."

Harry snapped shut the top of the meter. "Gives me the willies—what with everything that's happened."

Little Marilyn came in with a brisk "Hello." She opened her mailbox with such force, the metal and glass door clacked into the adjoining box. She removed her mail, sorted it by the wastebin, then stopped at the counter. "A letter from Steve O'Grady in Africa. Don't you love looking at foreign stamps?"

"Yes. It's a miniature art form," Miranda replied.

"When Kerry and Aysha and I went to Europe after college, we stayed in Florence awhile, then split up. I had a Eurailpass, so I must have whisked through every country not behind the Iron

Curtain. I made a point of sending them postcards and letters more so they could have the stamps than read my scrawl. We were devoted letter writers."

Miranda offered Little Marilyn a piece of fresh banana cake. "You three were best friends for so long. What happened?"

"Nothing. Nothing in Europe anyway. We wanted to do different things, but no one was angry about it. Kerry came home first. She was in London and got homesick. Aysha lived in Paris and I ended up in Hamburg. Mom said either I was to get a job or marry the head of Porsche. I told her he was in Stuttgart, but she wasn't amused. You know, I still have the letters we sent to one another over that time. Aysha wrote long ones. Kerry was more to the point. It was this business with Norman that broke up the three musketeers. Even when I was married and they were single we stayed close. Then, when Kerry was dating Norman and I was divorcing the monster, we went out together."

"Maybe Norman has hidden talents," Harry mused.

" Very hidden , "Mrs. Murphy called out from the bottom of the mail cart.

"Kerry thought so. They always had stuff to talk about." Marilyn laughed. "As for Aysha, she got panicky. All your friends are married and you're not—that kind of thing. Plus, Ottoline lashed her on."

" Panic? It must have been a grand mal seizure ." Mrs. Murphy stuck her head out of the mail cart.

Pewter pushed through the animal door. " It's me ."

" Iknow,"Murphy called back. Pewter jumped in the mail cart with her.

"Isn't it a miracle the way those two cats found Kerry?" Marilyn watched the two felines roll around and bat at one another in the mail cart.

"The Lord moves in mysterious ways His wonders to perform," Mrs. H. said.

Mrs. Murphy and Pewter stopped.

"You'd think they'd realize that the Almighty is a cat. Humans are lower down in the chain of beings."

" They'll never get it. Too egocentric ." Pewter swatted Murphy's tail and renewed the combat.

"I ought to get out those old letters." Little Marilyn headed for the door. "Be interesting to see who we were then and who we are now."

"Bring them in someday so I can look at the stamps."

"Okay."

Miranda cut another piece of banana bread. "Marilyn, do you believe Kerry could kill someone?"

"Yes. I believe any of us could kill someone if we had to do it."

"But Hogan?"

She breathed deeply. "Mrs. H., I just don't know. It seems impossible, but…"

"Where did Kerry work in London—if she did?"

"At a bank. London branch of one of the big American banks. That's when she found her vocation, at least that's what she told me."

"I never heard that." Harry's mind raced.

"She's quiet. Then again, how many people are interested in banking, and you two are acquaintances at best. I mean, there's nothing shifty in her not telling you."

"Yeah," Harry weakly responded.

"Well, this is errand day." Marilyn pushed open the door and a blast of muggy air swept in.

So did Rick and Cynthia.

"May I?" Rick pointed to the low countertop door separating the lobby and mailbox area from the work area.

"How polite to ask." Mrs. Hogendobber flipped up the countertop.

Cynthia followed. She placed a folder on the table and opened it. "The owner of a bar in San Francisco where Huckstep worked sent me these." She handed newspaper articles about George Jarvis's suicide to Harry and Mrs. Hogendobber.

Harry finished hers first, then read over Miranda's shoulder.

"The real story is that this man Jarvis, a member of the Bohemian Club, pillar-of-the-community type, was homosexual. No one knew. He was being blackmailed by Mike Huckstep and his girlfriend or wife—we aren't sure if they were really married— Malibu. She must be a cold customer, because she would hide and photograph Mike cavorting with his victims and that's how the blackmailing would start."