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Authors: Joan Hall Hovey
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changing channels in the middle of a program she was watching) and sipping tea she had made herself, from a real china cup. Even if the cup did have a chip at its rim. She bit off a corner of toast she had made in the toaster, spread with Kraft strawberry jam.
Pleasant to sit here warm and cozy in her new soft, yellow pile robe she had purchased when she was out shopping with Mrs. Bannister. While the landlady purchased her stockings, Caroline had spotted the robe on a rack, only $14.99 on sale. Even the color made her feel warm, like being wrapped in sunshine. She had been hesitant to spend the money but the landlady, who had stopped being mad at her by then, (or at least it seemed so) told her she deserved something new and special to celebrate her new life. On a whim, maybe because she was so relieved the landlady wasn't mad at her anymore, she bought it, and also bought two pretty blue cushions for the sofa.
Cozy in her robe, she brought the thin, china cup to her lips, avoiding the chipped side. The commercial for Tide Laundry soap ended, and the game show came back on. At the same moment, there was a knock at the door and her first thought was that she had shouted out the answers of some of the questions and disturbed a neighbor. She'd all but decided she hadn't when a male voice called through the door: "Miss Hill? This is the police. We'd like to talk to you, please, ma'am."
She stood at once, rattling the cup in its saucer, near spilling her tea. She set them carefully down on the coffee table.
The police? What would the police want with her? Her back turned to the handsome game show host, she wondered what had she done to bring the police to her door? Then she recalled the landlady's pursed mouth, the anger in her eyes as they walked along the sidewalk. Maybe Mrs. Bannister had only pretended to be friendly with her again. Did she call the hospital to complain as soon as we got home? Am I being sent to live somewhere else?
Absently, Caroline stood there in the middle of the floor finishing off the toast, chewing fitfully, as if it might be her last meal in this room. Swallowing the lump of toast, she finally crossed the room and opened the door a crack. "Yes," she said, eyeing the two policemen who stood in her doorway.
They were in suits and topcoats, one with graying hair and shrewd eyes. Square-jawed, just beginning to slacken. But still a nice looking man. The younger of the two was stocky and shorter with a bushy gingery-colored mustache, like a man in a cartoon. He looked like he might be someone's nice brother. She'd always thought it would be lovely to have a brother. Someone there for you, to take up your battles if you needed him to. To be in your corner. The Gingery man seemed that sort of person. But you couldn't always tell about people.
"May we come in, Miss Hill?" the older man said.
Since they didn't have uniforms on, how could she know for sure that they were policemen?
"Could I see some identification, please," she said in her new confident voice. She had heard people say this on TV programs.
They politely showed her their badges, not just flashing them like they did on those cops' shows, but holding them out long enough for her to examine their photos and read their names.
I'm Detective Tom O'Neal," the older policeman said. "This is my partner, Detective Aiken. We'd just like to ask you a few questions, Ma'am. Could we come inside, please?"
At Bayshore, people just came into your room if they wanted to and left the same way. No one ever asked her permission. Not for anything. But this was her own room, she reminded herself. Paid for with her own money. So she didn't need to let them in if she chose not to. Just like she hadn't needed to let Harold in.
"No, thank you," she said.
Detective O'Neal said nothing, just looked surprised. The gingery man stifled a grin at this partner, and Caroline wondered what she had said that was
Pleasant to sit here warm and cozy in her new soft, yellow pile robe she had purchased when she was out shopping with Mrs. Bannister. While the landlady purchased her stockings, Caroline had spotted the robe on a rack, only $14.99 on sale. Even the color made her feel warm, like being wrapped in sunshine. She had been hesitant to spend the money but the landlady, who had stopped being mad at her by then, (or at least it seemed so) told her she deserved something new and special to celebrate her new life. On a whim, maybe because she was so relieved the landlady wasn't mad at her anymore, she bought it, and also bought two pretty blue cushions for the sofa.
Cozy in her robe, she brought the thin, china cup to her lips, avoiding the chipped side. The commercial for Tide Laundry soap ended, and the game show came back on. At the same moment, there was a knock at the door and her first thought was that she had shouted out the answers of some of the questions and disturbed a neighbor. She'd all but decided she hadn't when a male voice called through the door: "Miss Hill? This is the police. We'd like to talk to you, please, ma'am."
She stood at once, rattling the cup in its saucer, near spilling her tea. She set them carefully down on the coffee table.
The police? What would the police want with her? Her back turned to the handsome game show host, she wondered what had she done to bring the police to her door? Then she recalled the landlady's pursed mouth, the anger in her eyes as they walked along the sidewalk. Maybe Mrs. Bannister had only pretended to be friendly with her again. Did she call the hospital to complain as soon as we got home? Am I being sent to live somewhere else?
Absently, Caroline stood there in the middle of the floor finishing off the toast, chewing fitfully, as if it might be her last meal in this room. Swallowing the lump of toast, she finally crossed the room and opened the door a crack. "Yes," she said, eyeing the two policemen who stood in her doorway.
They were in suits and topcoats, one with graying hair and shrewd eyes. Square-jawed, just beginning to slacken. But still a nice looking man. The younger of the two was stocky and shorter with a bushy gingery-colored mustache, like a man in a cartoon. He looked like he might be someone's nice brother. She'd always thought it would be lovely to have a brother. Someone there for you, to take up your battles if you needed him to. To be in your corner. The Gingery man seemed that sort of person. But you couldn't always tell about people.
"May we come in, Miss Hill?" the older man said.
Since they didn't have uniforms on, how could she know for sure that they were policemen?
"Could I see some identification, please," she said in her new confident voice. She had heard people say this on TV programs.
They politely showed her their badges, not just flashing them like they did on those cops' shows, but holding them out long enough for her to examine their photos and read their names.
I'm Detective Tom O'Neal," the older policeman said. "This is my partner, Detective Aiken. We'd just like to ask you a few questions, Ma'am. Could we come inside, please?"
At Bayshore, people just came into your room if they wanted to and left the same way. No one ever asked her permission. Not for anything. But this was her own room, she reminded herself. Paid for with her own money. So she didn't need to let them in if she chose not to. Just like she hadn't needed to let Harold in.
"No, thank you," she said.
Detective O'Neal said nothing, just looked surprised. The gingery man stifled a grin at this partner, and Caroline wondered what she had said that was
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