Final Act by Dianne Yetman (best free ebook reader .TXT) 📕

“No.  She asked if she could come over for a chat, said it wouldn’t take long.”

Alexis returned to Louise Penny’s newest release and immersed herself in the magical village of Three Pines, re-emerging only at the sound of the intercom.

Susan seated Rev. Hanya on the love seat directly across from them. The first ten minutes were filled with condolences, small talk, and tea until Rev. Hanya laid her cup on the table, refused another éclair, leaned forward and in a very firm, but kind voice informed the two women that there was a very important matter she needed to discuss with them.

Susan and Alexis leaned forward.

“It has been brought to my attention, ladies, by a friend of mine, who will remain anonymous, that the two of you have been frequenting a rather unsafe area of the city during the evening hours.”

Susan and Alexis exchange a quick glance.

“The neighbourhood’s a bit risky, but that’s not my concern.  It’s the questions you have been asking the ladies who make their living on these streets that’s disturbing.  I usually don’t interfere in other people’s business but I need to speak to you about your visits with the ladies.”

Two bright spots blossomed on Alexis’ cheeks.

“Your questions could be putting you in danger. My friend informed me some of the women are starting to get pissed.  They said the two of you were scaring their clients off because they thought you were mothers on the search for their daughters.  I was asked to tell you, and I’m sorry to give offence, to take your geriatric butts off their turf.”

“Oh goodness, there’s been a misunderstanding”, Susan said. “Once we clear it up with the ladies, there will be no danger. We’re simply doing research.  We have been asked to take part in a play, Ladies of the Night, one of our friends has written. We thought it would be good to get the true picture of what it’s like to work the streets.  It would help to make our acting more authentic.”

Susan turned to Alexis.  “Perhaps we didn’t make the purpose of our questions clear enough.  We’ll have to rectify that.”

Hanya sat mute, too stunned by Susan’s response to reply.

Alexis chose to remain mute.

“We appreciate your concern but once the ladies realize we have no interest in competing for clientele...”

“Really Susan”, Alexis said.  “Do you honestly think they were, for one moment, concerned about us stealing clients?”

Hanya began to cough, not that the other two were aware.  She was glad she didn’t take another éclair; she could have choked to death.

“Come off it Alexis.  Get real.  Sex knows no boundaries.”

Having caught her breath, Hanya decided it was time to intervene.

“I understand what you are saying, Susan, and I commend your efforts to strive for the most authentic performance in your friend’s play.  An interesting one, no doubt, and I certainly support redemptive themes.”

Not quite a lie.

“Not every role is best researched by hands on method.  There is a real danger.  My source tells me some of the, leaders, shall we call them, are getting nervous and there’s been talk of ‘teaching a lesson to the do-gooders, one they won’t forget’.”

“Well, that does change the water on the potatoes,” Susan said.

“Beans, Susan.  Changes the water on the beans,” Alexis said.

Hanya was tempted to get into the act and start rolling her eyes but refrained.

“Yes,” Hanya said, “I’ve been working in the neighbourhood for a couple of years now and most of the people are harmless.  Confused, abandoned, defeated, addicted, unloved, homeless, in need of mental and physical care, but not usually violent.  By a cruel twist of fate, it is their so-called protectors – the drug dealers and pimps – who feed off their need that are the dangerous ones.”

Susan paled.

“I apologize if I was too glib and shallow in my response.  There will be no more nightly visitations.  Thank you for taking the time to warn us.”

“Yes,” Alexis echoed.

“How is your friend,” Susan asked.  “I’m assuming your source is a friend you’re working with?”

“She’s struggling.”

“Sad.  The whole district is sad.  There was one character we kept running across, never spoke to us, mumbled a lot but last night, she spoke to us.  Grabbed me by the arm, commented on my red hair, and then shook her head no, and mumbled, ‘not tall enough’.  I asked her what she meant.  She smiled and said nothing.  I gave her $50.00 and she talked.  Said that someone wasn’t sure if it was a man or woman, with red hair, could have been a wig, she wasn’t sure, dressed in a long black coat and fedora hat, stopped her one night and said something about a contract person.  When I asked what kind of contract person, she laughed and said I had to be kidding.  I told her I wasn’t and she said the person was looking for a hired killer, someone to take out a black cop who was making a pest of himself.  I felt my jaw hit my belly button, the street lady smiled and walked away. The talk of killing, red hair and the tall figure in the long black coat psyched me out and Alexis and I headed for home.”

“Can you describe the street lady”, Hanya asked.

“She was thin, wore bangles, there must have been 15 or more on her right wrist.  She had a large diver’s watch on her left arm.  She wore a long skirt – purple weave with embroidered red roses – it was filthy and her fingernails were gross but her hands had been washed, hair and teeth brushed.”

“I know who fits the description – Hazel.  Years ago her family – husband, children, and their farm were wiped out by a tornado in Oklahoma.  She left the town and never went back. She’s not delusional, has no mental health issues, doesn’t drink or do drugs.  The story she told didn’t spring from her imagination.  Someone’ in trouble.”

“I better pass this on to the authorities”, Susan said.

“Yes”, Hanya said.