"The Watch Dog" - читать интересную книгу автора (Unknown)

Chapter 2

«Lucy, don't just walk past me like I'm not standing here! Come in here . .. I want to talk to you!» Kate Barrett had changed into a dress and stockings; she was always an early riser, and this morning it would just be a bit earlier than usual. She had never really intended to go back to sleep anyway, but she needed some excuse to get away from those adolescent police officers. Another minute of the way they were ogling Lucy and she'd have lost her cool completely!

«Sorry, Mother,» the younger woman said politely, her lips pressed together in what passed as a smile. «I didn't see you. What do you want? I have classes in just over three hours.»

«Never mind your classes. What's the idea of parading around this house like some kind of … some kind of whore!» Her teeth clenched as she spat out the word; it left her lips like some bit of bad food.

«Parading where? I've just been walking around my house. Oh, excuse me, your house. I wasn't aware that doing so made me some kind of fallen woman.» Lucy stood barely an inch shorter than her mother, and she showed no signs of backing down. Arguing like this had become something of a nightly ritual since John Barrett's death, and both women had plenty of practice by now.

«You know damn well what I mean! You and that see-thru outfit with those pimply-faced cops peering at your bosom. Honestly, what do you take me for? I'm not blind!»

Lucy laughed weakly. «I'll tell you what I take you for … if anybody's the whore, it's you! Those men were nearly thirty, young enough for me maybe, but not old enough for you! I think you're just jealous because I got all the attention! That's what's eating you, you're jealous! Why don't you call up your friend with the lavender cologne? He might pay some attention to you!»

«Lucy Barrett, I won't listen to that kind of talk! Maybe I was a little hasty, but you've got no right to talk that way about Mr. Marlowe. He's a good friend of the family and he's been a real help these last few months!»

«Yeah, I'll bet … help at what? Or should I guess. I'm not blind either, you know. I've seen you two kissing and grabbing at each other like a couple of …»

Kate's palm flashed upward and stung across her daughter's cheek with a loud smack. Lucy scarcely moved, but her face bore the mark of four red fingers like a stenciled hand on her cheek. «Lucy … I'm sorry … Lucy?»

Lucille Edgecombe Barrett turned on her bare feet and walked away silently to her room, closed the door behind her, and locked it carefully. Not until she was in bed with her head beneath her pillow did she let herself go. A half hour later she had cried herself to sleep, and she did not awaken until the alarm rang at quarter past seven.

Kate Barrett's room was closed when she passed it on the way down to fix herself a quick breakfast. The Barrett domestic, Clara had arrived and was cleaning up the broken glass by the back door when Lucy came in. «Trouble, Miss Lucy? You look like you haven't slept a wink. That is, unless you got them red eyes from drinking.»

Lucy gave the elderly black woman a warm hug. «No, Clara, just the same old thing. Mother and I had another of our fights. This one was a real lulu.»

«Which one of you broke the door?»

«Neither one. We had a break-in here last night. Or rather almost had one. I guess the lights must have scared him away.»

«A break-in? Did you call the police?»

Lucy was pawing through the cupboard in search of a snack-sized box of cereal. «Oh, yeah, police and guns and everything. And then Mother accused me of being a whore and slapped me.»

«What? Why, Miss Lucy, that don't sound right to me. Are you sure it happened just like that?»

The long-haired blonde girl sat down at the kitchen breakfast table and stared into the empty coffee cup that Clara had provided for her. «No, Clara, I don't know how it happened. It was just like all the other nights. She said something or I said something and we were off and running. Only this time she hit me … hard.» She was trying not to look at Clara, for the gray-haired Negro woman had practically raised her and it was impossible to keep anything from Clara. She could lie to Kate, even once in a while to Daddy when he was alive, but never to Clara. She was too sharp.

«Listen honey, you forget all about that school this morning. They'll understand you missing a couple of classes. I'm gonna fix you a nice hot breakfast just like I used to do when you was a baby. And then you can tell ol' Clara all about it, 'ya hear?» She did not receive an answer, but when the elderly woman turned from her dishes, Lucy had her face buried in her hands and it was plain to see she was crying.