Free Genesis of Evil by Nile J. Limbaugh

screen.
    “Good morning, Chief. Won’t you come in?”
    She pushed the screen open and swung herself away from the door to allow him room to pass. Gerhart stepped across the threshold and fished the complaint form from a pocket.
    “Morning, Miss Valentine. I just dropped by to get your signature on this.” He waved the form in the air. “I forgot to have you sign it yesterday.”
    She pointed a crutch at the couch. “Have a seat. How about a cup of coffee? Guaranteed to be as bad, if not worse, than the one I had with you yesterday.”
    Gerhart laughed. “Why not? I don’t think anybody’s going to hold up the mail train for the next fifteen or twenty minutes.”
    She grinned and went through a door next to her desk. Gerhart heard a cabinet open, then the sound of water running into something. He wondered if the now-silent vacuum cleaner was some sort of new, self-propelled model.
    “What did I forget to sign yesterday?” Roberta asked from the kitchen.
    “Just a rider on the complaint form stating that you’re dropping the charges against your purse-snatcher. No big deal.”
    He stood and walked across the room to the vacuum, unable to shake his curiosity. He lifted one side of the machine and gently turned a rear wheel. If the vacuum was self-propelled, he reasoned, there should be resistance when the wheel was turned. There was none. He put the vacuum back on the floor, returned to the couch, sat down and looked about the room. In addition to the couch and the desk where Roberta worked, the room contained two filing cabinets against one wall, a filled bookcase in the center of another and a television set in one corner. On top of the bookcase stood two trophies of some sort, each nearly a foot tall.
    Roberta came into the room pushing a teacart and balancing on one crutch. On the cart were two cups of coffee, a sugar bowl, a small pitcher of milk and a plate of assorted cookies. “I hope you don’t mind instant coffee; my pot died yesterday. That’s the reason I went to the mall. How do you drink it?”
    “Black, thanks.” He took a sip of the coffee and briefly considered asking about the vacuum cleaner but decided against it. “If you don’t mind my asking, where did you learn to defend yourself with those crutches?”
    “I used to live in Gary, Indiana. It’s not a nice town. I met a guy who was into martial arts. He introduced me to one of his friends who was an instructor. The guy took one look at me and said I was carrying two of the best weapons an unarmed woman could have. He taught me a lot.”
    “Apparently,” Gerhart said with a grin. “You said you were a headhunter. Are you independent?”
    “Yeah. I got tired of doing all the work and getting only a percentage of the commission. So I took the contacts I made and went into business for myself. It’s a lot more satisfying, not to mention lucrative.” She sipped coffee and selected a chocolate chip cookie from the plate. “Are you a native of Trinidad?”
    The conversation bounced from one subject to another so effortlessly that Gerhart was shocked when he glanced at his watch. He had been in Roberta’s living room for nearly an hour. The cookie plate was empty and he had polished off two cups of coffee. He smiled apologetically and stood up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how much of your time I’ve wasted.”
    Roberta smiled up at him. “Don’t be silly. I’ve enjoyed talking to you. I don’t get a lot of company.”
    “I’ve enjoyed it, too,” he replied. “Oh, here.” He handed her the complaint form and showed her where to sign. Then she stood and swung herself along behind him to the door.
    “Thanks for the coffee,” he said. “By the way, you lied to me. Yours is better than the stuff at the station, even if it is instant.”
     
    Roberta Valentine stood in the doorway and waved as Gerhart drove off. He was quite a guy. He was bright, witty and interesting. She had the impression that he could be gentle when