The death of a don.
The Eavesdropper
by Ruth Wissmann
To overhear, to suspect, to go back and overhear more — that was the route Myra followed after she listened in on the two women at the next restaurant table. Slowly it all built until Myra felt she had just one way out — murder!
Even if she could find another watch she liked as well, it would never be the same, Myra told herself as she walked from the jewelry store. It had been so beautiful, she thought pensively, with its diamonds and amethists set in platinum, and Don had given it to her on their tenth anniversary. Two months ago they had celebrated twenty years of marriage and there had been no gift. Instead, they had taken a trip to San Francisco. It was there that the watch mysteriously disappeared. She had been careless, she thought. The fault was her own.
It was a few minutes after twelve when she entered a coffee shop to find that the tables were filling rapidly with shoppers and workers from the buildings along Wilshire Boulevard in Los Angeles. Myra felt fortunate to find a small vacant booth among those built for two that lined the back wall. She felt more at ease sitting there than at a table out on the floor or on a stool at the counter.
Myra had become self-conscious about eating alone in a public place — a result, she felt, of having been married for so many years. A kind of dependency. She was wishing Don would appear. His office was only a block and a half away, but then... She shrugged, took a deep breath and looked at the menu.
As Myra assured herself later, she had not deliberately eavesdropped. She could not avoid overhearing the conversation taking place in the booth behind her. After all, the partitions were only lacy scrolls of plastic, and while the young woman who was now speaking kept her husky voice lowered, it was a voice that carried. Then, too, what she was talking about with her friend was rather interesting.
“This thing has been going on for eight months, you know, and he’s still interested in me,” she was saying. “But of course I have no hold on him — no security.”
“I suppose not.” The other feminine voice spoke without a hint of sympathy, and Myra wished she had glanced toward these two before sitting down.
“He hasn’t been like the others, though,” the first voice went on. “He’s more — well, settled.”
“And that’s for sure,” the cool one agreed. “Very much married, I’m afraid. Louise, I think you’re playing a losing game again.”
“Damn you, Kaye, I wish you wouldn’t talk like that.”
“But why don’t you tie up with someone single for a change?”
“Who, for instance?”
“I don’t know.”
“They’re all married. The good ones.”
“So it seems.”
Myra’s attention was diverted by the rustle of a stiffly starched uniform beside her. “Are you ready to order?” she was asked.
“Uh — yes. A tuna sandwich and a cup of tea, please.” Myra had to repeat the order, because she had almost whispered it due to the feeling that she should not be here at all. It was as if she were trespassing in a very private place. But she couldn’t help listening.
The waitress nodded and moved on while the conversation continued in the next booth. The one called Kaye was saing, “He’s generous with you, anyway. The expensive bag. The jewelry. You’re doing all right.”
“But it’s a solitaire I want,” Louise said firmly. “I’m thirty-two years old and damned tired of being cooped up in an office every day. I want to get married. I’m tired of going from man to man and having it all add up to nothing.”
Myra’s eyes studied the table before her as if transfixed. Just like a soap opera, she thought. Thursday I’ll have this story to relate at the bridge table.
“But he does help with my expenses somewhat,” Louise was saying. “However, he claims his wife watches the money closely. He has to be careful.”
“He took you to Las Vegas last weekend,” Kaye said. “I forgot to ask if you enjoyed it.”
“Yeah. It was fun, but I was beat when I got home last night. Hadn’t had much sleep, but then, who goes to Vegas to sleep?”
Myra frowned at her sandwich and thought of her weekend. She had found it difficult to fill the hours while Don was in San Diego with Bill Long. Bill was a good boss, but a demanding one. She sighed. It had been another trip to look over a site for the proposed branch office. And there had been two nights last week — or was it three? — when Don had to work late, and...
“I brought up the subject of marriage again Wednesday night when we went to dinner,” Louise was saying. “He knows that I’m getting impatient. He knows I don’t intend to go on this way forever.”
“So, what does he say?”
“The same thing. No way can he get a divorce, he claims. Do you know, I hate her? I’ve never even seen that wife of his, but believe me, I hate her.”
“I wonder,” Kaye said slowly, thoughtfully, “if he has ever asked her. I mean, really asked her.”
There was a cloud of silence now in the next booth, and for a moment only the sound of dishes, the voices at the other tables, and an occasional laugh could be heard. When Louise spoke again her voice was steady and low. “Many times I’ve asked myself that same damn question.”
“Well, just hang in there and see what happens,” Kaye said. “Or — you could look elsewhere. Maybe if he thought you were becoming interested in someone else... Make him jealous.”
“I’m afraid to take the chance. I might lose him. Oh, hell! It’s almost one o’clock. Let’s go. It means my job if I’m late.”
Myra observed the two women as they passed by her and stopped at the cashier’s counter. Louise appeared a little younger than her thirty-two years and oozed sexiness. Kaye was smaller, dark, more quietly dressed. Myra sensed an aura of coldness about this young woman that was almost sinister. As she watched them leave the coffee shop she wondered about the sudden uneasiness they had created within her.
All that afternoon their words and appearance returned to haunt her again and again. Even during the evehing they were in her mind as she and Don were talking.
“How was San Diego?” she asked at dinner.
“I told you, honey. It was raining.”
“Oh, yes, so you did,” she replied vaguely. “It was dreary here, too; so gray and cloudy.”
“Did you look for a new watch today?” he asked. “Now that you have the money from the insurance claim...”
“I looked in five jewelry stores, but couldn’t find any I liked nearly as well. It makes me furious to think... I just can’t understand. I do wonder if one of the maids took it while we were out of the hotel room.”
“I doubt it. You should have left it here at the bank in the safe deposit box.”
“I know.”
“Has the evening paper arrived yet?”
“Yes. I put it on your chair in the den.”
“Good. I’ll probably read it and fall asleep. It was a tiring weekend.”
“Was it? Didn’t you get much sleep?”
“No, not much.”
Later as Myra lay in bed she decided to return to the coffee shop the following day. Perhaps those same two women would be there again at noon. Maybe they ate there every day. It might be interesting to hear more about Louise’s love affair, she thought, and wondered if she could find a seat close enough to hear what they said. To eavesdrop was human nature, she told herself. Everybody did it.