Free Brides Of The Impaler by Edward Lee Page A

could see something standing near the candles.
    And the voice flowed, Virginia is welcome in our convent, girls. All are welcome, and just as our generous lord shared with honest peasants, we too follow his example. We share with our sisters, don’t we ?
    Stutty gave Virginia a can of anchovies.
    Let my love be upon you , the sweet voice fluttered, hovering. The girls all looked up in awe…
    Such a righteous flock …
    Then the voice, and the shadow, was gone.

    “Give Virginia your knife,” Francy ordered Stutty. “She’s one of us now.”
    The girls all looked at each other and smiled, and then—
    scritch scritch scritch scritch scritch —
    —continued to whittle.

CHAPTER FOUR
(I)
    John Rollin absently turned the ring round and round his finger—a fat silver ring with the strangest crest: a dragon strangled by its own tail. He was still doing this when he got out of the cab and looked up. Unbelievable , he thought. The cab drove away.
    Just about the worst thing that could possibly …
    Inside, the familiar walls of his home seemed alien now. He’d only been gone for six months, his first hiatus in a decade. It had been the best of his life—
    — and I come back to this…this calamity .
    He didn’t even take his bags to his room; instead, he was upstairs in the front reading room, reaching for the binoculars. It was almost funny. Over forty years of training have led me to this: peeping in windows …
    How could they have sold the annex house without consulting Rollin first?
    He let his eyes acclimate, made sure the hall light was off so not to be detectable from outside. He carefully swung open the window, and in leaked the distant sounds of the city at night. Car horns, a siren, a late bus roaring by on 67 th . One of the street lamps on Dessorio flickered on and off. It seemed to tranquilize his quiet rage.
    And his fear.
    A scuffing noise came from the street. Footsteps? Rollin raised the binoculars and looked.
    Yes. Two girls. They wore ratty clothes and flip-flops. Addicts , he presumed. Or homeless . Often the two were synonymous. The optics of the binoculars seemed to magnify the meager available light to something surreal. He watched the two women shamble away, carrying their shrill chatter with them.
    Now the street stood dead.
    Rollin lifted the binoculars to the annex house…
    Dim yellow lights burned on the first floor (which was actually raised half a floor above the street); the remaining three stories were dark. Close to midnight , Rollin observed. Were they still up at this hour? An attorney had bought the house; that’s all Rollin knew. One very HAPPY lawyer , he thought, considering the price he’d paid. Paul Nasher was the man’s name. But did he have a wife? Children?
    Rollin gulped at the consideration. Good God, I hope he doesn’t have children with him in there …
    Drapes were left open on the elaborate, pointed windows fronting the house, but the designer blinds hung down, open to slits. The slits provided enough open space for Rollin to effectively continue his voyeurism. He spied an indulgent living room on one side, and an equally overopulent kitchen on the other. He must’ve converted one of the back rooms for the bedroom …Rollin manipulated his slightly elevated vantage point, then—
    Ah. There’s something .
    The center pane of glass on the fanlight over the front door was keystone-shaped and clear, while the glasswork on either side was multicolored. Rollin found that when he moved over several inches, the binoculars could be zoomed right through that center glass. A door stood open at the end of a hall. The room was dark yet the bathroom door could be seen standing open, some lights on.
    Movement in the bathroom urged Rollin to zoom closer.
    A glittery shower curtain flung back, and now an attractive blonde woman, wet and naked, could be seen. I’d say that’s definitely NOT Paul Nasher . So he did have a wife or significant other. Rollin struggled with some