Unknown - Sally and Duke

What husband could understand that? She'd lost him, lost everything… she was ruined.

And then, her eyes widened in absolute disbelief as yet two more figures pushed their way into the boxy little bedroom. Lauralee Blodgett, looking like the wrath of God with her blonde hair tumbled and no makeup on her ravaged face, and behind her a voluptuously lovely black girl in a crisp white uniform. Lauralee reached into the little straw purse she carried and there was a gun in her hand when she brought it out, a small but very lethal looking blue-black revolver.

"You son of a bitch," the gun barrel came up slowly and leveled unmistakably at her husband. "You low down white-slaver. No, don't you move-you're not going anywhere… no one in this room leaves until we hear the whole story! Now, John, who did you feed the Spanish Fly to?"

"Lauralee, honey," Blodgett's voice was a pleading, ingratiating whine,

"you're sick. You shouldn't be out of bed! For God's sake put the gun away and let's talk sensible."

"You sent Tully to town with Spanish Fly, John," his wife ignored his remarks, "It was for Mrs. Denham, wasn't it? You see, I know… but I want to hear you say it…" The gun barrel wobbled noticeably and she moved closer to her husband, close enough for him to smell the odor of liquor and know she'd been on the bottle again. He looked down the little hole that was no more than a half-inch in diameter and he knew there was only the thinnest of threads separating him from death.

"All right! Yes… yes, I-we gave her just a little… didn't do her any harm, she's all right… see? She's all right!"

"Maybe," Lauralee said cynically, "and are the others all right, too, John? All the teenage girls and the young brides, like Eula here? Did you leave them in good condition when you got through with them? You filthy bastard-I ought to kill you right now and make an end of your miserable existence. You-dragging my fam'ly name through the mud and disgracin' us all… corrupting my brother, making him do your dirty work for you… you lowdown white trash!"

John Blodgett's handsome, confident features seemed to dissolve under his wife's venomous onslaught. He saw the imminent collapse of everything he had built up so painstakingly over the years… his influence destroyed… and then, a white-hot pain knifed through his upper arm and seared into his shoulder. In seconds the muscles of his chest were constricted with it… strangling his life breath… he thought she had fired the gun, shot him down… but then he knew it was something else squeezing him with agony.

Before their shocked eyes he crumpled to the floor, gasping, "Get Doc!

Get Doc!"

The tobacco-brown station wagon nosed into an angled parking place at the curb in front of the drugstore. In the back, Duke whined and wiggled his sinuous form expectantly.

"No, boy," Lauralee chided the big dog affectionately, "Stay. I'll only be a few minutes, and then we're going for a nice ride. OK?" The dog sat down patiently.

She opened the door and stepped out gracefully, the flash of exposed brown thigh drawing a flicker of interest from two loafers who were ranged along the curb. She did not mind, and in fact deliberately let her firm, round buttocks undulate a bit more than was usual as she stepped up to the parking meter and slid a coin into it. Then she walked into the drugstore, quite aware of the ogling pair of eyes that followed her progress. Well, Lauralee thought, if you can still get attention at my age why not give 'em a little ass-wiggle or two… brighten their day? Good for their morale as well as hers.

Her morale was high, and her contentment showed in the brisk, purposeful way she entered the store, smiling at Miss Minnie as she moved along the aisles, surveying the merchandise displays. The change from the dark, dusty interior of the store as it had been never failed to amaze Lauralee, although the remodeling had been completed for a good two months now.

"Hi, partner!" she called out gaily as she approached the gleaming new prescription counter. Ray Denham looked up from his desk with an answering smile.

"Hello… partner." There was a special warmth in his voice which might have suggested to a listener that there was something more here than a simple business relationship.

She really knew how to dress, Ray was thinking. A simple, expensive button-down-the-front cotton dress that might have looked severe on a figure that was less well-endowed. Ripe… that was the word. Ripe, without an ounce of extra flesh… a figure that care and exercise had made the equal if not the envy of the average woman fifteen years younger than Lauralee Blodgett. The petulance and boredom had disappeared from her face and her eyes were clear and sparkling.

She pushed through the little gate that led to the prescription department, with a nod and pleasant word to the new assistant pharmacist, and seated herself on Ray's desk… one long tanned leg swinging and the rather brief dress hiked up to a point on her thigh that was barely decent.

"Well, how do the books look, partner?" Lauralee bent right over the ledger so that the point of her full right breast nearly touched the open page.

"Well, they look damn good… but it's a bit hard to keep my mind on the profit and loss statement with such, uh… distractions," Ray laid his pen down and deliberately let his hand rest against the warmth of her flattened thigh.

"Mmmmmmmmmm," she purred, glancing around the store to see if anyone was watching and then wriggling closer to him as a loose, pleasant feeling pervaded her lower body, "just keep on making money for us and I won't bother my head about the books. Do you know why I'm here, darling?"

"Couldn't keep away a moment longer, I reckon?" he teased.

"Shame on you…" she wriggled again as his hand began to move slowly along her upper leg with insinuating pressure, "I'm here to fetch you.

Sally phoned and suggested, since I'm coming to dinner at your place anyway, that I give you a ride and save her the trouble of picking you up."

"God, is it actually that late?" he consulted his watch. "Funny, how the time goes these days… I always used to be watching the clock, when…" he paused, leaving the statement unfinished, but they both knew he meant to say when I was working for John. They avoided reference to Lauralee's late husband, not out of regret but merely because the subject was still distasteful. It was now six months since the day he had collapsed in the bedroom of the Denham's apartment over the drugstore and died a few hours later in the hospital, of a massive heart attack. From conversations with their family doctor, Lauralee learned that her husband had tricked her right up to the last. Doc had not been expecting John to have a heart attack… he was, in fact, surprised, and attributed it to the unusual stress of the occasion.

None of those present that day had revealed that Lauralee had threatened her husband with a gun; by mutual agreement all of the sordid facts had been concealed. Lee Quigg of course was glad to keep silent… as was Tully Fairchild, as he was promised a permanent job as manager of Lauralee's farm… and Eula knew that her husband's job at the sawmill was his as long as he wanted it.

The story given out was that there had been an argument of the pending sale of the drugstore, and John Blodgett had become too excited. After his death Lauralee abandoned all thought of the Florida apartment, she'd never wanted to go to Florida anyway and had only agreed because she thought it would be beneficial to her husband's health. Nor did she sell the drugstore. A partnership agreement was drawn up between Ray Denham and Lauralee, with Ray receiving very favorable terms and a loan from the Quigg personal funds to finance the purchase of his share.