Read Online Dead Wrong by William X. Kienzle - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: William X. Kienzle
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Brenda.
That is what troubled Koesler. And it troubled him deeply.
“Well, here she is now.” It was the change in Oona’s tone that brought Koesler back from his musings. Sure enough, Brenda was standing in the living room with Eileen at her side.
Koesler smiled at Brenda, but in some confusion. “How did you get in? I mean … I didn’t hear the dog …”
“You mean Rusty?” Eileen said. “Oh dear!”
“Rusty and I are friends,” Brenda said in an amused tone.
“But when I got here …”
“You see, dear,” Eileen said, “You’re the only one. Rusty hardly ever barks at anyone else. He’s the least effective watchdog I’ve ever had. Couldn’t really call him a watchdog at all. But he’s very lovable.”
“Face it, Uncle Bob,” Brenda said, “you and dogs just don’t hit it off.”
“But that’s not true. I usually get along fine with dogs. It’s just Eileen’s dogs …”
“It’s the odor,” Oona said definitively. “Read about it just the other day. They can smell fear. Carries over in the perspiration.”
“That’s probably it.” Maureen entered the room, wiping her hands on her apron. “You’ve been spooked by so many of Eileen’s dogs that you just take it for granted that they’re all killers. You start out scared of them and they know it. That’s why you never got along with any of Eileen’s dogs. Oh, I’ve got to admit, some of the earlier ones were pretty vicious. But this one, Rusty, he’s a pussycat. He didn’t bark at any of us.”
“Well, maybe … maybe,” Koesler admitted. “Before I come next time, I’ll bathe in antiperspirant and deodorant. And I’ll try my very best not to sweat when I get here.”
“Animals sweat. Men perspire. Women glow.” It might have been a humorous remark, but not coming from Oona.
“Anyway,” Maureen said, “dinner’s about ready. Want to eat first or give the presents?”
“Let’s do the presents,” Brenda said enthusiastically. “I want to see what Aunt Oona got.”
“Some of us are hungry,” Mary Lou said. “We’ve been working on the dinner most of the afternoon and we want to eat it.” She made it obvious whom she was singling out.
“Lou, gimmee a break,” Brenda said. “I’ve been working too. A little overtime as a matter of fact. For Pete’s sake, it’s no big deal. You want to eat first, that’s fine.”
“Well, then, come on everyone,” Eileen invited cheerily.
As they all moved to their places in the kitchen, Koesler stopped at the half bath to wash up. He could not disregard the two girls. Many’s the occasion that had been ruined by their bickering. It was as if the world might be big enough for the both of them, but not anything as confining as a house or, a fortiori , a room, no matter how spacious.
For a pair who had spent so much time growing up together, the two certainly differed sharply from one another and were usually at odds.
They were in sharp contrast in appearance. Brenda was tall, with straight dark hair, attractive bangs, and a willowy but sensuous figure. Mary Lou, a strawberry blonde with thick curly hair, tended to hold on to baby fat. Not large but a bit lumpy. Mary Lou seemed to spend a lot of time on the verge of pouting, if not actually in tears. Brenda tended to look on the bright side as often as possible.
Neither woman had had an easy time of it growing up. Their most formative years had been spent in the uncertainty of a series of foster homes. Neither had been abused in any of these homes. But they had lacked any sense of security or stability. The experience had to have traumatized them to some degree.
Then there was St. Vincent’s Orphanage. The Sisters of Charity did their best to instill a strong sense of religion in their girls. They also tried to provide an atmosphere of caring and love. If there was failure in this, the fault frequently lay with the institution that sought to limit religious women’s genuine expression of warm emotion.
In
That is what troubled Koesler. And it troubled him deeply.
“Well, here she is now.” It was the change in Oona’s tone that brought Koesler back from his musings. Sure enough, Brenda was standing in the living room with Eileen at her side.
Koesler smiled at Brenda, but in some confusion. “How did you get in? I mean … I didn’t hear the dog …”
“You mean Rusty?” Eileen said. “Oh dear!”
“Rusty and I are friends,” Brenda said in an amused tone.
“But when I got here …”
“You see, dear,” Eileen said, “You’re the only one. Rusty hardly ever barks at anyone else. He’s the least effective watchdog I’ve ever had. Couldn’t really call him a watchdog at all. But he’s very lovable.”
“Face it, Uncle Bob,” Brenda said, “you and dogs just don’t hit it off.”
“But that’s not true. I usually get along fine with dogs. It’s just Eileen’s dogs …”
“It’s the odor,” Oona said definitively. “Read about it just the other day. They can smell fear. Carries over in the perspiration.”
“That’s probably it.” Maureen entered the room, wiping her hands on her apron. “You’ve been spooked by so many of Eileen’s dogs that you just take it for granted that they’re all killers. You start out scared of them and they know it. That’s why you never got along with any of Eileen’s dogs. Oh, I’ve got to admit, some of the earlier ones were pretty vicious. But this one, Rusty, he’s a pussycat. He didn’t bark at any of us.”
“Well, maybe … maybe,” Koesler admitted. “Before I come next time, I’ll bathe in antiperspirant and deodorant. And I’ll try my very best not to sweat when I get here.”
“Animals sweat. Men perspire. Women glow.” It might have been a humorous remark, but not coming from Oona.
“Anyway,” Maureen said, “dinner’s about ready. Want to eat first or give the presents?”
“Let’s do the presents,” Brenda said enthusiastically. “I want to see what Aunt Oona got.”
“Some of us are hungry,” Mary Lou said. “We’ve been working on the dinner most of the afternoon and we want to eat it.” She made it obvious whom she was singling out.
“Lou, gimmee a break,” Brenda said. “I’ve been working too. A little overtime as a matter of fact. For Pete’s sake, it’s no big deal. You want to eat first, that’s fine.”
“Well, then, come on everyone,” Eileen invited cheerily.
As they all moved to their places in the kitchen, Koesler stopped at the half bath to wash up. He could not disregard the two girls. Many’s the occasion that had been ruined by their bickering. It was as if the world might be big enough for the both of them, but not anything as confining as a house or, a fortiori , a room, no matter how spacious.
For a pair who had spent so much time growing up together, the two certainly differed sharply from one another and were usually at odds.
They were in sharp contrast in appearance. Brenda was tall, with straight dark hair, attractive bangs, and a willowy but sensuous figure. Mary Lou, a strawberry blonde with thick curly hair, tended to hold on to baby fat. Not large but a bit lumpy. Mary Lou seemed to spend a lot of time on the verge of pouting, if not actually in tears. Brenda tended to look on the bright side as often as possible.
Neither woman had had an easy time of it growing up. Their most formative years had been spent in the uncertainty of a series of foster homes. Neither had been abused in any of these homes. But they had lacked any sense of security or stability. The experience had to have traumatized them to some degree.
Then there was St. Vincent’s Orphanage. The Sisters of Charity did their best to instill a strong sense of religion in their girls. They also tried to provide an atmosphere of caring and love. If there was failure in this, the fault frequently lay with the institution that sought to limit religious women’s genuine expression of warm emotion.
In
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