Love for Sale

filled with tears. “I really don’t want to talk about him.“
    “I’m afraid you must,“ Walker said very gently.

Chapter 19

    It’s all my fault!“ the girl with the braids exclaimed in a loud, abrasive voice.
    “Before you explain that, what is your name?“ Walker asked.
    “I’m Kathryn Staley.”
    Walker exchanged glances with Lily. That was the last name on their list. But her address had been crossed through. Mrs. Taylor at the Institute had said she’d resigned by letter, complaining of abuse of a friend. They’d bagged two for one.
    “What is your fault and why, Miss Staley?“
    “It’s not,“ Susanna said. “I’ve told you so a million times, Kathryn.“
    “I went to work for the Institute,“ Kathryn went on, ignoring her friend’s warning. “I honestly thought Brother Goodheart was the greatest man in the world. So powerful, so generous, such a wonderful speaker for the rights of downtrodden Americans and good Christians. I liked his idea of a Hitler or Mussolini figure for our country. Those are the sort of men who won’t waffle around when trouble comes. And what choice did we have here? A man who did nothing running against a cripple! So I suggested that Susanna take a job at the Institute as well. Susanna’s awfully smart, knows her English, types really well, and was out of work.”
    Lily thought, what with the blond braids, broad, pale, Aryan face, as well as her attitude, she’d make a perfect Brunhilde for Hitler.
    “So you were approved for the job?“ Walker made a point of talking to Susanna and shifted in his chair so that he was directly facing her.
    “Yes, I was. And I enjoyed it—for a while. Brother Goodheart complimented me a lot on my work. Then“—she paused and took a deep breath, “he invited me up to his room. His bedroom, I mean. Not his office. I didn’t want to go. He said he had a little gold cross he wanted to give me since I was such a good Christian girl. I was afraid not to. I really needed the job.”
    She put her hands over her face for a moment. “It was so horrible. At first I didn’t know what was going on. He left me looking at the cross and went into another room and came out wearing a silk robe. He—well, he exposed his privates to me.“ She blushed bright pink. “I tried to run for the door, but he snatched me by the elbow and threw me on the bed and started tearing at my clothes and...“
    “Go ahead and say it, Susanna,“ Kathryn said. Susanna whispered, “He raped me. I kept try- ing to fight him off and I was crying something horrible and he started hitting me in the face.“ She pulled back one side of her curly dark hair that cupped around her temple and showed them a still somewhat red scar.
    “I finally escaped and ran out of the room, down the stairs, and outside. I ran toward home, here, until I could hardly breathe. I had to lie down in the woods for a while before I could go on.”
    She leaned over, propped her elbows on her knees, covered her eyes again, and sobbed.
    Kathryn took over the conversation again. “Several people saw her run out and I heard them talking about Susanna running down the stairs and outside all bloody with her clothes torn. I raced to try to find out what happened and where she’d gone. But I couldn’t find her. I drove straight home. She wasn’t there.“ She held her hands as though she were praying.
    “I drove back toward the Institute, looking along the side of the road for her. By the time it was dark, I went home and here she was. I took her to the hospital in Poughkeepsie.“
    “Did she tell them who did this to her?“ Walker asked.
    “Yes, I did,“ Susanna said, lowering her hands. “And they didn’t believe me. The doctor became really mad at me for saying bad things about a fine Christian example of a man, and said I was covering for a boyfriend. I’ve never in my life had a boyfriend.“
    “I backed her up on what she’d said,“ Kathryn butted in again. “And the next day I sent in my resignation directly to Brother Goodheart, telling him just what I thought of him.”
    Walker suddenly felt he’d heard enough from Susanna’s friend. “Miss Staley, I don’t think you quite realize this isn’t about you. It’s about Miss Cooper.“
    “Well! I like that!“ she said sarcastically, her placid, fat white face growing red and blotchy. “I really do blame myself for not seeing through him. And now I hear he’s dead and I’m glad.“
    “I’m not glad,“