Marjorie put the phone down slowly, letting it click silently on its rest. She raised her chest, feeling the weight of trouble resting there. It all seemed so complicated. First, an irate call from Mayor Tyrone last Tuesday, now this. The office was so disheveled it looked like a storm had entered, leaving the detritus of a wild party. She thought back to closing time at work and wondered if the security latch on the back door had missed the lock. The thieves couldn't have possibly entered the front door, that was still firm with the iron bar clicked into place. What she couldn't understand was the trail of wet footprints that led to the bathroom and out the back. The safe had a dry handle. Not that she would touch it, not now, not while she waited for the police and Ronny to arrive. There were too many strange things happening of late, and what with her nerves being bad, today she had a mind to tell Ronnie she was quitting. She could handle some of the tenants being abusive over the phone, holding the receiver out at the cord's full stretch. But the Mayor was different, acting like a pig in her ear. 'Grunt, grunt, snort, snort'. What did she know about "matters going over his head". Then this week, not a peep out of Ronnie.
Ronnie pressed his face on the front door, tapping lightly. It took several minutes for him to hold his head up and look in Marjorie's direction, while she turned the key, releasing the bar.
'What the hell's going on, Ron?'
'Yeah, we've been burgled all right. What did they take?'
'How would I know. Got to wait for the police to find that out. You don't look well, Ron. Go and sit down and I'll make a cup of tea. I'll try to get through all this water. Bloody hell!'
Ronnie Williams shuffled his chair forward behind his desk, stacking the sheets of strewn paper. He sat there thump, thumping them, turning them clockwise until all the edges had joined.
Marjorie sat down in front of him, passing the tea, while she warmed her hands on her cup.
'You had a meeting with Tyrone, yet?'
'Next week. Marjorie.....' he paused for a few minutes, and looked out at the darkened window. Outside the rain renewed its slick path down the glass. The trees outside were in a mood of unutterable sadness. He thought he saw the figure of a dark man in a sailor's suit, then realised it was the baker next door. 'Storm's in,' he said, finally.
'What were you gonna say?'
'Oh, yeah. I'm thinking of selling the business.'
'You got big trouble and I know it,' said Marjorie, picking up the two empty cups. 'I don't wanna know,' she called from the kitchen. 'Because if it has anything to do with that Mayor Tyrone and Bob Haycock, I ain't gonna lose any sleep over it. In fact, the old man and I are thinking of moving to that new subdivision called Cove Heights or somethin'. I've already made enquiries, and I could easily give up travelling from Kildare, so I might as well be closer to the hub of it all. So don't worry, mate. I think we better get going while the iron's hot. What do ya, reckon?'
'Oh, your blood's worth bottling Marjorie.'
'Yeah, well....'
The door opened with a percussive suck. A very tall gentleman, and a smaller policeman entered the Real Estate Office. It was in their nature, to dip their caps at victims of a burglary.
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