The Merchant of Menace

and seem to think it may have fallen out of his pocket either while he was climbing onto the roof or when he went off the edge.“
    “What a strange thing to do. Disks are fragile. Do they suspect someone of taking it?“
    “I have absolutely no idea what the police think of anything,“ Jane said firmly. “And to be truthful, I’m tired of the whole thing. What with the usual stress of Christmas and the neighbors who put up decorations that have drawn half of Chicago to stare at their house, Lance King’s murder is just too much to cope with.”
    He got the hint and didn’t ask anything more. Instead, he turned on the radio to a classical station and started cleaning up the table. “I guess I’d feel the same way if I were closer to it all,“ he said. “But it’ll soon be over. The holidays and the investigation.“
    “Or maybe not,“ Jane said. “There are murders that are never solved. I’m not entirely sure this might not be one of them.”

Twenty

    Sam made a couple trips with dishes, this time turning down Jane’s offer to assist. While he was on the first trip, she took a sip of the milk substitute Pet had left in her glass. Good stuff. Tasted just like the real thing, but probably cost the earth. Thank heavens none of her own kids had allergies that demanded substitute foods. What a nuisance.
    Sam called Todd and Pet back to the table and brought out dessert, which was cut-up flour tortillas, deep-fried and dusted with sugar. They helped settle the chili, he claimed. But the chili was giving Jane a bit of stomach trouble, which she hated because she’d always prided herself on having a cast-iron digestive tract.
    When they finished dessert, Jane said, “That was a superb dinner, Sam,“ in a tone she hoped suggested finality.
    “You’re not leaving, are you?“
    “I hate to be rude, but I do have to get back home. I still have tons to do today. I’m not even through wrapping Christmas presents.“
    “Oh,“ Pet said. “I wanted to show you my scrapbook with pictures of my mom.“
    “Pet, I’m sure Mrs. Jeffry can come back and see them some other time,“ Sam said.
    But Pet looked so disappointed that Jane had to relent. “Presents can wait a little while, I guess. I’d love to see your pictures.”
    While Sam cleaned up dinner, Pet got out her scrapbook which was in a protective cover. She sat down next to Jane on the sofa and presented it proudly. It was well-worn. Apparently Pet had a deep sense of loss for the mother she couldn’t remember. Jane wondered if Sam had given any thought to a little therapy for the child. It couldn’t be easy for him, either, being as he’d said the marriage wasn’t a real good one.
    The first picture was a wedding shot. Stiff, formal. Or at least the much younger Sam was standing rigid with a frozen smile. The bride, however, looked like she was having the time of her life. The photographer had caught her in what looked like the middle of a laugh. She wasn’t really beautiful, except in the way all brides are automatically beautiful, but she looked high-spirited and happy. Medium-brown hair like Pet’s, but lots of it, all fluffed out and curling all over the place. The gown was cut a bit low and there was an expanse of bulging bosom that wasn’t quite virginal.
    “Your mother was very pretty, Pet,“ Jane said. Pet nodded solemnly.
    The next pictures were badly done snapshots. The newlywed couple posed by a presumably new car with palm trees in the background. Sitting on a beach and all but invisible under a big umbrella. Playing with a dog in a tiny fenced yard. In every picture, Pet’s mom was laughing and Sam was looking serious. No wonder they hadn’t gotten along. There was just the slightest suggestion of “the floozy with a heart of gold“ in Pet’s mom’s appearance. Not trashy, just a little more voluptuous and carefree than most women. But then, she was young, too.
    “This is my favorite,“ Pet said, turning to a new page.
    It was her mother in a maternity dress, standing sideways with a great, bulging midsection.
    “That’s me,“ Pet said with a giggle. It was the first time Jane had heard Pet sound genuinely happy. “That was the night before I was born.“
    “That’s a great picture. I have one like that, too. The day before Mike was born. What was your mother’s name, Pet?“
    “Patricia. Like me. Only she was called Patty Sue.”
    The rest of the pictures told a story that Pet probably wouldn’t understand