HARMONY

Part 25 "Arrested? For murder?"

Michelle lay naked and next to Tony. She had called him and said she needed to see him, and really, this would be the last time. The covers were pulled up to her chin and she occasionally used a corner to absorb a rogue tear.

Shifting uncomfortably, Tony didn't know where to look. He finally rolled off the bed, got dressed and headed into the bathroom. Michelle still didn't move, her gaze fixed on the ruby red ceiling.

The bathroom door opened and Tony walked back into the room. He paused at the end of the bed. "So, ah," he said. "Should I just go into your purse?"

"Take a lamp."

"What?"

"Or the Persian carpet, or a crystal vase." She rolled over. "There's no money in my wallet."

"Can I take the espresso machine?"

Michelle gave a sinister laugh. "Sure Tony. Take my fucking Espresso Machine."

"Thanks baby," he said. He left the room.

She reached to the floor to grab her blouse. Everything she touched and everything that surrounded her now rung up in her mind like a cash register. I could get 40 maybe 50 bucks for this blouse. She didn't bother with a bra, just pulled it on and headed toward the bathroom.

She heard Tony's van slink down the dark street. Bracing for a painful pee, she didn't pay too much attention to the sound of a car engine pulling into her driveway. He probably wants my fucking food processer too. After a tender wipe, she flushed and reached for the shower knobs. The insistent knocking froze her hand.

Michelle threw on a pair of pajama bottoms but gave no other thought to her appearance as she answered the door. Two uniformed police stood on her porch.

"Oh god, what now?"

The officers exchanged glances.

"Good evening ma'am. Are you the parent of Andrew Kingsley?"

"Andrew?" Michelle became acutely aware of her disheveled hair, pajama bottoms and crinkled silk blouse. She squeezed the opening of her top with one hand and slightly closed the door with the other.

"Oh my god. Is he okay?"

The two officers, both about thirty and handsome, looked past her and into the home. "He's been arrested and we need you to come to the sheriff's station." They handed her a card with the address. She followed them as they walked back to their car—barking codes into their shoulders.

"Arrested? For what? You must have the wrong boy." Michelle's words tumbled into the hand covering her mouth. Fighting the burn of nausea, she dropped to her knees. A dark puddle of her vomit formed below her—then oozed down into the moonlit blades of grass. She puked again and then rolled onto her back to watch the scorning stars spin above her. Somewhere, a voice begged her to go inside before the neighbors would see, but her body wouldn't budge.