Death in The Life Read Online Free PDF Page B

Then, climbing precariously onto the arms of the chair, she hammered a nail above the window and hung it up. She came down to the floor face to face with a grinning black man outside the window, a white yachting cap pushed back on his head. He pointed to himself, to the sign, and then to her.
    “Oh, hell,” Julie said and motioned him away.
    He shook his head.
    Julie shrugged.
    He started for the door and Mrs. Ryan came from the back room. As soon as the man opened the shop door, Mrs. Ryan said, “Sic ’em, Fritzie!” Fritzie set up a wild yapping and ran around and around, not sure of what he was sicced on, for the would-be visitor backed out in a hurry and closed the door. He made a rude gesture and disappeared. It took quite a while to convince the dog that he had already done what was expected of him.
    Mrs. Ryan suggested that Julie ought to get a dog. Jeff was of the same opinion. “I’ll take karate. Why don’t you like Pete, Mrs. Ryan?”
    “Aren’t you quick now? Sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t. That’s because he’s changeable himself. He can be very abrupt. And I think he’s queer.”
    “You mean he’s gay?”
    “I’m old-fashioned and I like the word gay for everyone.”
    “I’ll bet Pete does too… if he’s gay. I’m not so sure he is.”
    “Of course you are, dear, or you wouldn’t be going out with him. You are still married?”
    “That’s right,” Julie said. Score one for Mrs. Ryan. Half a point: Pete wouldn’t have asked her if he thought something was going to be expected of him. Nope. Score one and wait for the next round.
    Mrs. Ryan gathered the thermos cups and bottle. “My friend Mrs. Russo may stop in. She loves a throw of the Tarot. Her husband is a precinct detective. Fritzie, bring your leash, love.”
    Julie went outdoors with Mrs. Ryan and watched her and the dog meander down the street. She looked at the Consultant sign from the outside. It had but one thing to recommend it: it was so small you had to come up close to see what it said.
    She caught a reflection in the glass of the black man in white cap swinging along the opposite side of the street in her direction. He started to cross and then danced back from the oncoming traffic. She remembered his parting gesture. For which he could not be entirely condemned, having had a dog sicced on him. Nevertheless, it was not a benevolent gesture. Okay, Friend Julie, confront. She folded her arms and waited.
    “Thought I’d drop by again and give you a break, Miz Julie.” He flashed his teeth at her.
    “Thanks.”
    He wore a huge gilded cross nested in the hair of his chest, his shirt open to the navel. He flopped his fingers beneath the cross in case she’d missed it. The polished nails fell like drops of pale blood. “Just an evangelical call.”
    “Sure.”
    “What’s a chick like you doing in a setup like this?”
    “Like what?”
    He screwed up his eyes and peered at the minute sign. “Consultant. What’s your main line? My name’s Goldie, by the way.”
    “I don’t think we’re in competition, Goldie.”
    “I don’t compete. My girls come to me.”
    “Lucky girls,” Julie said.
    “I got style, right?”
    “You bet.”
    “Can’t we go inside for this conversation?”
    “I’m fumigating in there.”
    “All right. I’ll buy you a drink while the place cools off.”
    “I’m waiting for a friend,” Julie said.
    “I’m a friend.”
    “An invited friend.”
    The smile turned upside down. “Don’t smart-ass me, little girl. This is my turf and I just want to know who’s setting you up in business.”
    “Me. I’m a marriage counselor.”
    “No kidding.” The smile turned up again.
    “Among other things.”
    “That’s for sure. You don’t make money on marriage around here. Unless you’re me, if you want to look at it that way. I don’t know what I’d do if it wasn’t for the institution of matrimony.” He touched a buckled shoe to a cigarette butt, nudging it into a crack