Free Thicker Than Blood by Penny Rudolph

turned, leveled a gaze at her, then dipped her head. “Okay. Sorry I asked.” She got to her feet and sauntered toward the curb.
    For reasons she couldn’t account for, Rachel blurted, “A friend of mine is dead and it’s probably my fault, and I came within a gnat’s eyebrow of getting myself arrested.” She kicked at an imaginary stone on the pavement.
    Goldie turned back. “You sound like that guy in the Bible, Job. Next thing, you’ll be getting yourself a case of hives.”
    “Boils,” Rachel said. “Job got boils.”
    “Whatever. The preachers all say he didn’t have much fun.” She sank again onto the bench, leaned back, crossed her ankles and her arms. “So this friend of yours—what happened to her?”
    “Him,” Rachel’s voice choked and a tear dribbled its way toward her chin. Slowly, the words began tumbling out.
    A Chevy Blazer passed and minutes later, a Volvo, tires hissing along the pavement. This area, like the office buildings that flanked it, was almost deserted at night.
    “Don’t see how you think you’re responsible,” Goldie said when Rachel finished. “Everything that happens in the universe ain’t your say so. This Lonnie was a grown adult person. Why d’you think you were his keeper?”
    Rachel was staring at her feet. The heels of her loafers were worn, she’d have to remember to get them to the shoe shop. “A couple of years ago, he pretty much saved my life. I should have gone over there sooner. I shouldn’t have waited.”
    “Lord, girl, if people did all the should-haves, my Mama wouldn’t be going to church on Sundays ’cause we would all be in Heaven.”
    “If I ever find out who sold him that stuff, I swear I’ll kill him.”
    “Guess it wouldn’t do much good to tell you to lighten up.” Goldie leaned forward as a boy from the cleaning crew crossed the street. “What you doing out here by yourself, Peter?” she called. “You got all that work done?”
    Peter grinned widely as he got to the curb and waved something that looked like a piece of dark paper. “Those others are slow. But they be done soon.” He seemed to chop his sentences to a manageable length.
    “What you got there?” Goldie frowned at the envelope. “You didn’t take anything from the offices did you?”
    “No.” Peter looked pleased with himself. “Not from an office. I don’t do that. You know I don’t.” Rachel noted a dimple in his left cheek that made his face winsome.
    “Then where did that come from?” Goldie pointed at the dark rectangle in his hand.
    “Bathroom.”
    “Give it here.” She held out her hand.
    Peter held it above his head and Rachel could see it was a brown envelope, about five by seven inches. Abruptly, his resistance evaporated and he held it out. “Didn’t steal it. Found it.”
    “Not a lot of difference between stealing and finding,” Goldie said, taking the envelope from his outstretched hand. “Depends on whether the owner lost it before you found it.”
    Peter hung his head.
    Goldie ruffled his hair, fondly. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it, but I sure don’t want anyone getting the idea you stole it.”
    “Looks like it’s just an empty envelope,” Rachel said.
    “It’s an envelope, all right.” Goldie was opening the flap. “But not quite empty.” She shook some of the contents into her palm. The little mound glowed purple in the streetlight. “What the hell is this?”
    Rachel stared at the small sand-like heap in Goldie’s hand. “Let me see.” She shook the envelope into her own hand, got up and moved to the yellow light over the garage’s pedestrian exit, where the color became whitish. “Peter!” she called. “Where did you find this?”
    He had started back across the street. “Bathroom,” he called. “Like I said.”
    “They doing H over there or what?” Goldie muttered. “I’m not sure I ever seen any myself, but I expect that stuff ain’t sugar.”
    Peter stood on the sidewalk on the other