Cheryl administered iced tea and sympathy, and Karen expounded her own theory. "Rob has to be the guilty party. He never showed up, and when I called his number nobody answered. I told Tony, but that man just smiled mysteriously and wouldn't say a thing."
"I could call him," Cheryl began.
"No. And don't call Mark, either. Tell me about your day. I'm sick to death of Julie and her problems. One good thing-I'm through with her. After the things she said to me I don't feel any obligation about staying on."
"You should have told her you quit," Cheryl said loyally.
"I did. Three times. But I don't think she heard me. She'll probably show up here later; don't be polite and leave us alone, I'll need your moral support."
"I'll slug her if she gives you a hard time," Cheryl promised.
"Oh, damn," Karen said, hearing the telephone. "I'll bet that's her now."
It was Mark. He asked to speak to Cheryl, and Karen handed over the phone. Cheryl covered the mouthpiece with her hand. "Can I-"
"Oh, sure, go ahead. Tony has probably talked to him already."
She stamped out to the kitchen and began peeling potatoes. Cheryl followed her a few minutes later. "Mark was wondering," she began, "if we'd like to go-"
"He'll have to settle for hamburgers and potato salad." Karen gestured with her paring knife at the pile of vegetables. "And tell him to bring that closemouthed friend of his. Maybe when Tony is off duty and full of food he'll be more communicative."
TONY was perfectly willing to talk. "It's not a secret. You didn't have to bribe me. But I'm glad you did," he added, accepting a second serving of potato salad.
They were sitting around the kitchen table. It was still too hot for an outdoor picnic, and Ruth's formal dining room didn't seem appropriate for hamburgers and the beer Mark had brought. He and Tony were in their shirt sleeves and the latter was very obviously off duty. He paid Karen outrageous compliments on her cooking; when she accused him of looking unusually pleased with himself, he was prompt to admit it.
"I think we've solved the identity of your ghost, Karen. Since he's probably well on his way to parts unknown, you shouldn't have any more trouble."
"Rob?" Karen asked.
"You don't sound surprised."
"I am-and I'm not. I knew he didn't like me, but I can't believe he would be so vicious."
"You're jumping to conclusions," Mark said, tugging absently at a lock of hair. "What makes you think it was Rob?"
"This was found on the floor of the office, where it might have fallen out of someone's pocket, and been kicked into a corner. I persuaded the boys to let me have a copy."
He handed the paper to Karen. Mark reached for her hand and moved it into a position from which he could see too. His fingers tightened over hers, and he muttered something under his breath.
The original had been a group photograph. Karen recognized it immediately. "It's from my college yearbook," she said in a strained voice. "I made the tennis team the first year-by a fluke, really, everybody got sick or broke an ankle or something. That's Anne-I forget her last name… Susan Reeder… and (strange how hard it was for her to pronounce the name)… and Shreve."
"And the hole in the middle is you?" Mark asked. He snatched the paper from her numbed fingers and examined it closely.
"The names are printed underneath," Tony said. "That's how I knew. The face has been obliterated. Slashed with a knife or a pair of scissors."
"How do you suppose Rob got hold of this?" Cheryl asked. Some of the pretty color had faded from her cheeks.
"Julie brought the yearbook in one day," Karen said. She had to clear her throat before she went on. "She was pretending to play 'do you remember?' games; but I think she wanted to rub it in-how much I had changed. She showed it to Rob and-and to other people. He made a few of his cute little cutting remarks… I thought she had taken it home after the joke wore thin."
"She may have. The book wasn't at the shop." Tony retrieved the paper from Mark, who was holding it by the tips of his fingers, his lips curled in disgust. "This is proof of malice-"
"Malice?" Mark's hair stood up in agitated tufts. "This is sick."
Tony looked uncomfortable. "I didn't realize how it would affect you. Guess I've become hardened; some of the things I see make this look like a harmless joke. Sorry, Karen."
"It isn't only the photograph," Karen said. "It's the total accumulation. I feel as if I've been walking blindly along, doing my thing and trying not to get in people's way-assuming I was on solid ground-and all of a sudden I look down and see there is nothing under my feet except a narrow plank over an abyss. And someone is sawing the plank. I've never deliberately hurt anyone…"
The movement Mark made was so slight no one except Karen noticed it; it affected her like a bolt of lightning that cast a sudden garish illumination into dark corners of her mind. She had never thought of her actions as hurting Mark himself, only his pride-his ego. There had been no commitment broken…At least that was what she had believed.
"Sure, I know that," Tony said. "You're a natural victim, that's all."
It was Cheryl, not Karen, who exclaimed in indignant repudiation. Karen was struck speechless by this second burst of enlightenment. She felt as if someone were not only sawing the plank on which she walked, but knocking down all the protective walls she had built up. Was she really a natural victim, the helpless object of random violence, the scapegoat for resentment and hatred she had done nothing to deserve? The idea was humiliating and repellent.
Tony had tried to redeem his error by explaining.
"Most women are passive victim types…" This had only enraged Cheryl more, and they got into a heated argument which Tony ended by snapping, "Nobody would ever accuse you of being passive."
"Leave him alone, Cheryl," Karen ordered.
Cheryl looked at her in surprise, and subsided. Tony let out a martyred sigh. "Thanks, lady. As I was about to say-with the obviously mistaken intention of relieving everybody's mind-the robbery was an inside job. Your friend Rob tried to make it look like a break-in, but it was a clumsy effort that wouldn't fool a baby. Now he's disappeared. One of the other tenants in his building saw him go out last night about midnight. He was carrying a couple of suitcases."
Frowning and unconvinced, Mark continued to tug at his hair. Tony added, "He has a record. Petty larceny, procuring, immoral acts-"
"What kind of immoral acts?" Cheryl asked, her eyes bright with curiosity.
"Uh-you know. The usual."
"Porno films and dirty photographs," Mark said, his tight lips relaxing into a half-smile. "She's of age, Tony, you don't have to be so prim and proper. How about drugs?"
"He used 'em. But we never picked him up for dealing."
"Burglary? Breaking and entering?"
"No."
"Assault? Armed robbery?"
"No. Now look, Mark, I know what you're getting at and I'm here to tell you it doesn't mean a damned thing."
"It's the wrong profile," Mark insisted. "You used the word passive-that's the word for little Robbie and his little misdemeanors. He wouldn't have the guts to break in here or attack Karen."
"You don't know what he would do. That's the trouble with you armchair detectives, you think real life is like the cases you read about, all neat and tidy and tied up with a ribbon."
They glowered at one another. Tony's brows were drawn down until they almost met in the middle of his forehead; Mark's face showed the familiar dark mantling of anger. This wasn't one of their usual friendly arguments; Karen could almost feel the tension between them.
Mark turned his head slightly. His eyes met Karen's for a brief, electric moment before he looked away and made a visible effort to control his temper.
"I'm not trying to tell you your job, Tony, but there are some big gaping holes in your theory. If Rob decided to take off after robbing the shop, why didn't he do a thorough job of robbing it? According to Karen, none of the major items were taken, only odds and ends. He knew how to turn off the alarm; he could have pulled a truck up to the back door and loaded it. Why leave the most valuable pieces?"