Free The Coal Black Asphalt Tomb: A Berger and Mitry Mystery (Berger and Mitry Mysteries) by David Handler

wouldn’t exactly call it getting busy,” Bitsy responded. “It’s more along the lines of heavy leaning.”
    “So whom is he leaning into heavily?”
    “Beryl Fairchild.”
    “Our first selectwoman’s mother?”
    Bitsy nodded. “He visits her regularly at her little place on Bone Mill Road. Or so I’ve heard.”
    “As have I,” Helen said.
    Sheila made a face. “Why would Beryl keep company with Buzzy ?”
    “Chase has been gone a long time,” Helen said. “She’s lonely.”
    “I could never be that lonely,” Sheila assured them. “The man is a creep. Always sucking away on that horrible pipe. And that lower lip of his looks like a hunk of raw liver. Can you imagine kissing Buzzy?”
    Bitsy shuddered. “I’d rather not.”
    “He doesn’t smoke his pipe anymore,” Helen informed them. “Had to give it up. He has emphysema. I hear the prognosis is not good.”
    “Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” Sheila said. “But he’s still a creep.”
    She poured their tea now and put out milk and sugar. Mitch tasted his and discovered it was strong enough to dissolve the enamel on his teeth.
    He added some milk and said, “Was Buzzy ever married?”
    Sheila shook her head. “He stayed 100-percent loyal to mama his whole life. He was absolutely devoted to her. Gladys Shaver was an emotionally frail woman. Especially after Buzzy’s younger sister, Frances, passed away. That was a tragic thing. Buzzy stayed right there in the house with Gladys until she died, oh, four years ago. And he still lives there.”
    “You make him sound like Norman Bates. Say, he’s not into taxidermy, is he?”
    “Actually, I always wondered if…” Helen cleared her throat. “I thought that he might be more interested in men than women.”
    “He’s a mama’s boy,” Sheila sniffed. “I’ll bet you a shiny quarter that Buzzy’s never had sex with anyone in his life, man or woman.”
    “How did his sister die?” Mitch asked.
    Sheila let out a sigh. “Now we’re back to talking about Lance again.”
    “And about me,” Helen said, her lower lip trembling slightly.
    “Really?” Mitch peered at her. “How so?”
    “I had a—a personal experience of my own with Lance,” she confessed uncomfortably. “It’s not something that I like to talk about. In fact, I’ve never told anyone about this.…”
    Sheila reached over and put her knuckly hand over Helen’s. “You’re among friends, dear.”
    Helen took a swallow of her tea. “I was at the spring dance myself. The night that Lance disappeared, I mean.”
    “You attended the dance?”
    “Hardly, Mitch. I waited tables there to put myself through secretarial school. My sort doesn’t get invited to the club. I’m Swamp Yankee through and through. And not ashamed to say it.”
    “Nor should you be,” Sheila said.
    “Lance Paffin was the most gorgeous man I’d ever met,” Helen recalled in a small, quiet voice. “As handsome as a movie star. He and I … got involved the year before he disappeared. The gang was throwing a birthday party for Beryl Beckwith at the club one night. I was out behind the kitchen on my break, having a cigarette and resting my sore feet, when suddenly Lance was standing there in that beautiful uniform of his, talking to me. When Lance smiled at me I—I just got tingly all over. He made me feel like I was the girl who I’d always wanted to be. There’s this dream you’ve been holding inside since you were seven years old. The one where Prince Charming comes along and rescues you from your life of drudgery. Lance made that dream real . It sounds silly, I know. But I was so naïve. He asked me to go for a drive with him after I clocked out. He drove us down to the beach and before you can say boo he had me out of my knickers right there on a blanket. It was my first time. Lance was my first.” Helen trailed off, her chest rising and falling. “Afterward, he invited me to sail to Block Island with him in the morning. He wanted