Foreclosure.
He’d slept with the knowledge all night, and when he’d awakened this morning, had almost convinced himself that it was all a bad dream.Until he’d come into the kitchen to make coffee.
The letter was there where he’d left it last night.He’d picked it up again, rereading it over and over until his stomach rolled and his heart was thundering in his ears.
One powerful word and it was enough to bring what was left of his world to an end.He tossed the letter back onto the kitchen table, forgot about the coffee, and went to the breakfront to pour himself a drink.The decanter was empty—just like his life.He stared around the room, trying to find some sense of reason for drawing his next breath when something hit the front door.
That would be the morning paper.
He waited until he was certain the paperboy was gone.Even the eleven-year-old boy who delivered the papers had quit believing the check was in the mail.
The rubber band broke as he was rolling it off the paper, snapping the palm of his hand and bringing a quick set of tears to his eyes.
“Ow!Dammit, that hurt,” he muttered, and tossed the paper on the kitchen table next to the letter.
He’d make that coffee after all.At least he could have coffee with the morning paper.That was a civilized thing to do.
When the coffee began to brew, he sat down and began to unroll it, but the edges kept curling back toward the way they’d been rolled and he cursed beneath his breath.It should be against the law to roll up a paper.He remembered the days when his father had insisted on having the help iron his morning paper flat before bringing it to him to read.He grinned, also remembering the occasional times when it would arrive with one of the pages scorched.Such a commotion over paper and ink.
In the middle of pouring himself a cup of freshly brewed coffee, the phone rang.Still lost in memories of grander days, he answered without thinking.
“Mr.Marlow, this is Denzel Cusper, down at the bank.I wanted to call you early, before you left for the office.We had several checks of yours come in yesterday and I’m afraid your account is a little short of funds.You know, we value your business.Your grandfather banked with us.Your father banked with us.We value the Marlow name, and that’s why I knew you’d want to take care of this right away.”
There was a sick smile on Lash’s face, although Denzel Cusper could not see it.He bit his lip and pretended he wasn’t lying through his teeth.“Why, you’re right of course!I don’t know how I let that oversight occur, but I’ll take care of it on my way in to the office.”He could hear the Denzel Cusper’s sigh of relief.
“That’s just fine,” Denzel said.“I’ll just be holding these checks until your deposit clears.”
“Thank you for calling,” Lash said.
“No problem.Always glad to give a valued customer a helping hand.”
Lash hung up the phone and poured his coffee down the sink.He didn’t need caffeine.He needed money.He’d already spent his monthly retainer from the Ruban family, and the other clients he often represented were worse off than he was.
The foreclosure letter was still on the table right where he’d left it.Now this.Checks were going to bounce.He didn’t even want to know how many.He had represented people who’d written hot checks, and he couldn’t remember a one who’d gotten off without serving their time.The law was swift with regards to stealing, in any form.
Shame filled him.Thank God his grandfather hadn’t lived to see this day.What his father hadn’t lost, Lash had wound up selling to stay afloat.And now it was gone and Lash Marlow was sinking fast.In days gone by, there would have been only one honorable way with which to deal with this shame.Lash thought of the handgun in the drawer beneath the phone.He glanced at the paper he had yet to read.He could just picture the headlines.
“Local Lawyer—DOA.”
Dead on arrival.He shuddered.There would be a scandal, but he wouldn’t be around to face it.And while he was contemplating the virtue of an easy way out, his gaze fell on the corner of a familiar face pictured on the front page of the paper.He pressed the page flat.
“Ruban Heir Saved by Traffic Jam”
His eyes widened and he began to read, and when he was through, he stared down at Casey’s picture in disbelief.Why?Why did someone like her keep getting all the breaks while everything he did threw him further and further off course?
“You bitch.”
Startled, he looked up, expecting to see someone standing in the doorway of the kitchen.When he realized it was himself that he had heard, he looked back down and started to shake.
“You selfish, worthless, little bitch.I’d give my life to find a way to make you sorry for what you’ve done.”
Casey’s face smiled back up at him from the page, taunting him in a way he could not accept.He let go of his rage, giving hate full rein, and began to consider the wisdom of what he’d just said.
He knew people who would do very dirty deeds for very little money, which was exactly what Lash Marlow had.But if his scheme worked, when he was through, he would be the one in the dough, and that sharecropper’s granddaughter would be sorry she’d thumbed her nose in a Marlow’s face.
* * *
“Oh, my.”
