|
|
Book of the Month Club
Part 2
By: T.G. Browning
“Milt?”
“Yeah?”
“Why do you think Hugh is getting them? Why do you think I’m getting those books?”
Milt took the margarine tub from her as she grabbed the sponge to start wiping down the table. As he put the margarine into the fridge, he slowly said, “My guess is that it was a thank you of some sort. Or that something happened to the person who sent the books and he or she thought of you or Hugh. Something nice like that.”
“In other words, make the bald assumption that it’s a nice thought from a shy somebody, not a nasty one.” Doris mused. Her normal train of thought generally involved dark suspicions and bleak assessments. Up until now, she’d figured it was standard operating procedure for a cop.
Milt knew she felt that way. He shrugged. “Why buy trouble? You get enough grief as a cop without strip mining more. Sometimes, nice things do happen.”
As he straightened up and closed the fridge door, Doris grabbed him from behind and squeezed him so hard he couldn’t breathe for a moment. “I’ll get you for this, Milt. You can’t go and spoil my fun like that without getting something back in return.”
With a lithe twist he picked up years ago in a martial arts seminar, he squirmed around and managed to get a hand under an arm and started to tickle. Things degenerated alarmingly after that.
* * *
It was a beautiful day in Toledo, which made the morning fog and dampness of Newport all that much more noticeable. A rather lanky woman in her early 50’s closed the door of her bright red BMW, grabbed two USPS Flat Priority Rate envelopes and sauntered into the post office. Her slacks managed to match both her sweater and blouse, but only because severe black slacks go with everything. Grudgingly, it must be admitted. The gray sweater over the dark blue, cotton shirt didn’t look comfortable together.
The small scale sat all by itself, a fact which pleased her no end and the pleased expression she donned reflected an inner state of, well, nefarious glee might be the best description but it doesn’t really convey the essence.
She weighed each package to make sure that they were under the one-pound limit. They were.
After checking one more time that the postage stamps were the correct amount and solidly affixed, she slid the two envelopes into the outgoing mailbox and then smiled coldly. The packages would get there in two to three days and she’d have another three-quarter inch of shelf space that she sorely needed.
Marion Fredrickson in Tacoma and Liz Chambers in Grants Pass would have two unexpected packages arrive. She could imagine the surprise and the worry—what was going on, they’d think? Why was this happening to them? Would they be getting a bill in the mail?
Alice Tromlits, Norm Lilly’s sister and heir apparent of a number of dark, Lilly concerns, got back into her car and headed home, providing ample proof that her family’s genetic aptitude for malevolence might still be a force to be reckoned with.
But it wasn’t perfect. The day after her little talk with Milt, Doris had cleaned off a shelf in the front room, packing some knickknacks away and tossing others. It became her designated mystery gift shelf and would provide many fine hours of entertainment over the years.
1 2 3 4 5
|
