Poisoned Pins

“Did you see who that was?” gasped Caron. Apparently Inez was too flabbergasted to do anything more than goggle at the figures on the porch of the sorority house.

“It’s none of our business,” I said.

Inez finally found what there was of her voice. “It’s Arnie. You remember him, don’t you, Mrs. Malloy?”

“Yes, I do.” I grabbed their arms and propelled them through the door and up the stairs to our apartment. Once we were safely inside, the door locked and the chain in place, I abandoned them and headed for the kitchen to make myself a stiff drink. Minutes later, I made myself another

“Arnie?” Peter choked on the name, spraying the coffee table with a mouthful of beer. “Not Arnie, please. Seeing him was just some form of recurrent hallucination brought on by-”

“Lack of sales?” I leaned my head on his shoulder and stared at the living-room ceiling. “The girls recognized him, too. He’s driving a disreputable green truck instead of that hideous Cadillac he used to have, but he’s the same Arnie right down to his neon nose and slobbery lips. No better, no worse-just good ol’ Arnold Riggles. Can’t you keep him in jail for more than ten minutes?”

“He was in the county jail, and your estimate of ten minutes is apt to be accurate. The facility’s crowded, and someone charged with a misdemeanor hardly qualifies for a lengthy period of free room and board. All he did was steal a couple of dogs and a cat, Claire.”

“And the other times? Drunken driving, drunken hiking, car theft, fleeing the scene, being a nuisance, accusing me of being-”

“All misdemeanors, I’m afraid,” Peter murmured, trying to sound soothing despite the edge of amusement in his voice. “We almost nailed him with a felony a couple of months ago, but the prosecutor decided to ignore the small fry and go after the big fish.”

I was not in the mood for piscatory puzzles. “What are you talking about, Peter? Rigging a bass tournament?”

“Nothing that interesting. We learned that the man who had the pawnshop out in the strip mall east of town was a fence, and we finally got around to busting him. Arnie was one of the regular customers.”

“Why wasn’t he hanged?”

“We couldn’t prove that he was bringing in stolen property. He claimed a certain necklace had belonged to his mother, and it wasn’t on any of our lists. He also brought in a portable television set that might have been taken in an apartment burglary, but the student hadn’t recorded a serial number and Arnie swore he’d won it in a poker game.”

“And you were gullible enough to believe him?” I rolled my eyes as Caron had done that same afternoon. “Surely you could have found evidence that would be adequate to keep him off our streets for a few years-if you’d tried, that is.”

He patted me on the shoulder as if I were a faithful dog curled in his lap. “Let’s not talk about Arnie anymore, okay? I had a call from a guy I trained with. He owns a cabin about fifty miles from here, and he offered to let me use it anytime this summer It’s fairly rustic, but it’s got a fireplace, a great view of the lake, and a king-size brass bed. We can sit on the deck all day and watch the birds and the bees, and then at night.

He was in the midst of some intriguing remarks concerning other aspects of nature when footsteps came pounding up the stairs. Caron flew into the room, took a deep breath, and said, “It really is that Awful Arnie Person!”

I’d moved to the respectable end of the sofa. I wiggled my eyebrows at Peter, then looked at my daughter’s flushed cheeks and air of triumph. “What did you learn?”

“He’s going to paint the sorority house.” She grabbed a handful of peanuts from the bowl on the coffee table and stuffed them in her mouth as she flopped across a chair “He works for the contractor, some guy named Ed Whitbred who’s a real painter but was across town finishing another job. Mrs. Vanderson thought she was meeting Ed, but Arnie showed up, so she had to deal with him. Mrs. Vanderson’s what Pippa calls the house corps president, which means she’s in charge of the house maintenance and pays the bills and stuff. The house is going to be painted this summer so they can do better at rush in the fall. They had a real crummy pledge class this year because the Kappa Theta Eta house is the nappiest on campus, even worse than some of the fraternity houses. The pledges have to sleep on the third floor, and the roof leaks so badly they’re afraid it’s going to crash down on them someday.”

“Good detective work,” Peter drawled.

She gave him an offended frown. “I wasn’t snooping around the way Mother does. I merely went over to the house to talk to Pippa about my training. I may have gotten lost on my way to her room, but that’s hardly my fault if all the halls look exactly the same.”

“You were prowling around the sorority house?” I said, appalled. “Don’t you realize that’s trespassing?”

“It is not, and it doesn’t matter, anyway. There are only four girls living in the house this summer, along with the housemother and her cat. During the regular year, there are over sixty girls in the house and visitors all the time.”

Peter had been gri

“Me?” she said, now the epitome of i

“Go away,” I said.

“But I’m going to earn money, anyway,” she continued. “Pippa says she’ll let me use her kit until I can afford my own. All I have to do is line up eight appointments and then I’ll have more than enough money. Once I have the kit, I can train all my friends and really start making scads and scads of money. I’d better make some calls.” She sauntered down the hall to her bedroom and closed the door

Peter wanted to talk about the cabin. I didn’t, and after a few more efforts on his part, he left. He didn’t exactly stalk down the stairs, but I heard every last footstep and the door slammed with u

Going away with him was too much like a honeymoon, I thought as I tidied up the living room and took our glasses to the kitchen. My territory was well defined, and I preferred it to be so. I rarely went to his house, and never stayed the night, even when it required a lonely and often chilly drive to my apartment.

I turned off the lights and went to my bedroom. Access to my bed was by invitation only; the concept of anyone assuming a proprietory interest in one of the pillows was disturbing. I’d tried that with a husband, and although the marriage had not resulted in shackles and submission, I felt no need to take on the responsibility of a relationship, to make compromises-especially when the compromises tended to resemble total capitulations.

Then again, I reminded myself as I studied the newest set of wrinkles while I brushed my teeth, Caron was within a few months of turning sixteen, which meant I was in the same proximity to forty. I claimed to be self-sufficient, but I’d wasted the day wondering how to pay the rent all summer and I had to find a way to get in new stock for the fall semester A few publishers had threatened to cut off my credit; others were making inelegant remarks about delinquent payments. The roof leaked and the cockroaches were a noticeable addition to the office decor. There were unpaid bills piled in the kitchen. In a few years Caron would have to be sent to college, preferably in a remote state.