Overheard Conversation

         After years of bad luck with women, Edgar married one from the office where he worked. It was a June wedding. When their first Christmas came around, he purchased his new wife a wind-up flashlight, the kind that doesn’t need batteries. Great for an emergency. He had it gift wrapped. Edgar was not sure how much could be blamed on the flashlight, but three months later, his wife filed for divorce and shacked up with an ex-con in Las Vegas. Edgar kept the flashlight, in case of emergencies.
         For several years afterward, he called his ex-wife on Christmas day and invited her to come back home.
         Another Christmas was approaching and Edgar was trying not to think about her as he dined in a downtown restaurant. While taking his first bite, he was distracted by a woman’s voice that floated in from the adjacent booth separated from his own by a large planter sprouting palm fronds
         The voice said, "Why didn't you tell me that before?"
         Edgar peeked through the greenery. A blonde was speaking into a cell phone. Another woman seated next to her was holding the blonde’s free hand. He recognized both of them as part of the regular lunch crowd.
         There was a long pause before the woman spoke into the telephone again, “Cameron, that’s not true and you know it.”
         Tears began to flow down her cheeks.
          This was more than Cameron forgetting to send a valentine.
         Edgar was a sucker for tears, especially those wept by lovely young blondes.
         “Cameron, don’t do this to me.” After some silence, she repeated “hello?” then slapped the cell phone down on the table and sobbed into her friend's shoulder saying, “Why didn’t I listen to you?”
         The blonde eventually composed herself and said softly, “I’ll kill him.”
         “Don't talk like that,” her friend said.
         The crying woman suddenly stood and walked toward the door. Her friend dropped a twenty dollar bill on the table and hurried after.

          A flurry of business obligations used up Edgar’s attention for the next week. One morning he was seated at a long table, exchanging some mindless chatter with a cohort at a company meeting. His fellow employee unfolded the local newspaper on the table. The headline read, "LOCAL ATTORNEY MURDERED IN SOUTH HILL SHOOTING." The sub-headline read, "CAMERON ALDRICH SHOT AT HIS RESIDENCE."
          The newspaper headline sank in,"CAMERON ALDRICH SHOT."
         The speaker mistakenly perceived Edgar’s change in posture as interest in the power point topic. "Do you have something to contribute, Edgar?"
          "No." He did not. He barely heard the question. Edgar was recalling the one-sided telephone conversation overheard at the restaurant a week ago, specifically "I'll kill him."
         Then Edgar thought about the blonde woman in the restaurant. She had threatened to kill someone named Cameron. Surely, she was not speaking to Cameron Aldrich the lawyer?
         The murdered man was married. He had left a wife behind. The newspaper listed the widow as Jane Aldrich.
         Edgar wondered if Widow Aldrich knew that her husband had a girlfriend, let alone a murderess girlfriend. Of course he was only guessing. Anyone could have killed Cameron Aldrich. It didn't have to be the blonde. There must be several Camerons in this town. Probably one of them breaks a woman's heart every week and doesn't get killed for it. Edgar thought he was making a big deal about nothing. He slept on it.
         After breakfast, Edgar dialed the office of Curran & Aldrich. A receptionist answered. He let her repeat the firm’s name several times before she lost her patience and hung up on him. The receptionist’s voice was familiar to him. He decided to go to the office of Curran & Aldrich’s to verify his suspicions.
         Across the lobby was a large circular receptionist's counter. Edgar looked that way and received confirmation for his journey to the law office. The woman standing behind the counter was the same lovely redhead who had held the blonde’s hand at the restaurant. At this moment, the redhead was speaking on the phone.
         Edgar walked up to the counter and stood as if looking for help. He heard her speak into the telephone, identifying herself as "Patricia Sanders."
          She hung up the phone and raised her head without walking his way. "Can I help you?"
         "I have business with Cameron Aldrich. Is he in?"
         She drew her eyelids together and gave him a stern look, then quickly softened and said, "We have lost Mr. Aldrich. He is no longer a partner here. Mr. Talbot now handles his ongoing matters."
         Patricia Sanders seemed to be avoiding mention of the reason that Mr. Aldrich is no longer at the office. Maybe it was protocol.
         Edgar begged off saying that his business with Aldrich was of a very personal nature. She looked back down at the paperwork on her desk, apparently without recognizing him from lunches at the restaurant.
         Edgar took advantage of her concern with the paperwork, he fell in behind a group walking down the hall to the firm’s legal offices. He broke off from the group to wonder about looking in open doors fearing that he might see the blonde. If the blonde worked here, the coincident was too much, she must have been speaking on the phone to the deceased Cameron Aldrich.
         The hallway looped around and Edgar came out at the lobby from which he had begun his trek. He never saw a woman anywhere in the place. Edgar was thankful he had not seen the special blonde whom he hoped not to find.
         Edgar wasn’t quite satisfied. He still wanted confirmation that the crying blonde was not employed in Mr. Cameron Aldrich's law office.
         He walked to a table at the end of the lobby. He pulled out a piece of paper and wrote out a note asking Patricia Sanders to meet him for a noon lunch today at the restaurant where this had all began. He didn't mention the overheard conversation or that he recognized her from the restaurant. He included bait in his note, he suggested that he may have information regarding the untimely death of Cameron Aldrich.
         Edgar folded the paper and handed it to the redhead then turned without waiting for her reaction. He walked to the front door slowly enough to give her time to call out after him. She did not.
         Edgar went to his own office and then shortly to the restaurant in order to be early for the lunch appointment. He sat in a booth near the door. He wanted some time to plan his conversation with Patricia Sanders, if she showed up.          
         He rehearsed his scheme several times in his mind before Patricia Sanders came in the door and marched straight to his table.
         She sat down and asked him his name. Edgar told her and suggested they order lunch before he disclosed his information regarding Mr. Aldrich.
          Patricia Sanders declined saying that she had eaten her lunch at work. She asked, "Why haven't you gone to the police with this information?"
         "What I know is gossip. I cannot verify any of it."
          "Okay. Speak your gossip."
          Patricia Sanders was cold and snappy. Edgar hadn't expected this from her. She had been gentle and sympathetic with the blonde.
          Edgar began, "I have a friend who opposed Mr. Cameron Aldrich in court a year ago. He had a bad time of it. This friend's attorney was eaten alive by Cameron Aldrich."
          He paused to study Patricia Sander's reaction.
         She said nothing but raised her palms upward impatiently bidding Edgar to continue the story.
          He resumed, "This friend later saw Mr. Aldrich in a hotel lounge in the city. He was enjoying drinks with a young blonde and they were not acting like husband and wife, if you know what I mean?"
          "You asked me here for this? Some trashy story made up by a bitter client with a loser attorney."
          "But I thought that if Cameron Aldrich had a young blonde girlfriend. Maybe an office romance? The police should be informed?"
         Patricia Sanders pointed a long finger at Edgar. “Listen to me, Edgar who-ever-you-are. I am the only woman who works at Curran and Aldrich. And I am certainly not blonde." She raised a handful of her red hair.
         "No, ah, no you're not," Edgar stammered.
         "If you repeat this lie, I will report you to Mr. Aldrich's partners at the firm and you will find yourself in court facing some of the best attorneys in this town. It will have a sad ending for you, you nosy little bastard."
         Patricia Sanders stood and walked toward the door in the same deliberate manner she did when following her crying blonde friend a couple of weeks ago.
          Edgar was mixed about the meeting. Although his head had been bitten off by Ms. Sanders, he now felt certain that his attractive blonde was not employed at Cameron's legal firm. Edgar therefore dismissed his lingering suspicion that she was involved in the death of Cameron Aldrich. A different Cameron caused her tears that day.
         Edgar was disappointed that he had not learned the blonde’s name but he had a backup plan for that.
         The waiter came to the table and asked Edgar for his order. The waiter had been working at the restaurant since Edgar had first eaten in the place.
         Edgar spoke his order, then added, "Do you know those two women who lunch here? The blonde and the redhead? The redhead, Patricia, works at the Curran & Aldrich Law Office around the corner from here."
         "Yes, I know the ladies. Good customers."
          "They just dropped by to see me for a moment and Patricia's blonde friend left her cell phone here. Do you know where I might return it to her. It's been ringing."
         "Yes, she works as a docent at the art gallery across the street. Spencer's." Edgar wasn't sure what a docent was but he had a more important question he hoped the waiter would answer.
         "I remembered Patricia but have forgotten the blonde's name." Edgar spoke the statement as a question. "This is her phone," he held up his own cell phone hoping to reinforce the fraud.
         The waiter furrowed his brow and paused before answering, "Veronica." Edward guessed that giving up the name troubled him.
         Edgar stood and thanked the waiter. He apologized saying that rather than eating lunch, he was delivering the phone to Veronica immediately.
          The waiter rolled his eyes before turning on his heel. Edgar suspected the waiter might have designs upon the lovely blonde Veronica, designs much like his own.
         Edgar focused on the window of Spencer’s so much that he didn't look for cars as he crossed the street. He entered the gallery which did have pictures hanging on the wall but not a human present, blonde docent or otherwise.
          He took the opportunity to look at papers and envelopes on a desk at the front of the gallery. Several envelopes, some opened and some not. Edgar surveyed the paperwork then bent over to peer closely at one envelope. He spotted the addressee’s name: Veronica Stevens.
         Light footsteps sounded from a staircase at the back of the gallery. Edward had got the name he came for but was not prepared to meet his infatuation. Not yet. He stepped quickly to the door and let himself out into the street. He would meet her face to face another day.
         Edgar’s work load postponed further pursuit of Victoria Stevens. He was obligated to stock hardware stores up near the Canadian border and so was absent from the city for several days.
         When he returned to his apartment, Edgar was sitting half asleep in his big chair watching the local news on television. He had just finished spaghetti from a can. The anchor’s tone became serious.
          A woman's body had been found in a rural area on the edge of the city limits. The victim was at least two days dead according to the coroner. Then a driver's license photo popped up on the screen. The dead woman's name was Patricia Sanders. Edgar shook his head and blinked a couple times. The last time he had seen that face was at the restaurant scolding him for gossiping about Cameron Aldrich.
         He sat stunned. How could it come to this? A dead Cameron. And now the woman who worked for Aldrich was dead.
         As days went by, he scoured newspapers and watched the local broadcast news to hear mention of the investigation into the woman's death. The murder was a news topic but the police were not convinced that the deaths were related. The cops suspected a bitter husband in the lawyer’s death. Divorce was a specialty of Cameron Aldrich.
         A week after Patricia Sander’s death, Edgar went to the usual restaurant for lunch. Veronica Stevens was there alone. He seated himself at the booth next to hers.
         She was on her cell phone. Edgar waited for her to end the conversation, then he stood up and walked to her table.
         She looked up at him quizzically.
         Edgar mustered a sympathetic tone and said, “I’m sorry to see that your luncheon friend passed away. Sounds terrible.”
         Veronica Stevens shook her head slowly from side to side and said, “It’s the worst. And the police have no clue to the killer. Did you know Patricia?”
         We had talked a few times. I recognized her on the news because I eat lunch here often and so did she, usually with you.”
         “Oh.” Veronica looked hard at Edgar. “I think that I do remember you. This must be the place, you are familiar. Would you like to share my table? Patricia was my dearest friend and it helps me to talk about her. I miss her so much.”
         Edgar masked his jubilance at the invitation to join Veronica Stevens for lunch. He let her speak on about the virtues of her deceased friend. He tried to be a good ear. He was reluctant to say much since he knew almost nothing of Patricia Sanders except that she was very protective of her employer.
         Edgar did show enough initiative to ask about Veronica’s employment but she volunteered what he already knew, that she worked the art gallery.
         Edgar claimed to have a lifelong interest in art. He regretted laying it on thick and deflected Veronica’s questions about his taste in art. He asked regarding her own tastes, she was after all an art gallery docent. It turned out that the gallery belonged to Victoria’s wealthy parents who paid her a hefty monthly salary to be the caretaker of the place.
         They finished their lunch and had two wines each. Edgar insisted on paying the bill.
         When they walked out the front door onto the sidewalk, Veronica thanked Edgar for purchasing her meal and drinks. She shook his hand and said, “I would like to pay you back. Would you come by apartment and see my personal art collection? I always serve wine at my showings,” She smiled.
         Edgar thrilled at holding her very soft hand and assured that he would.
         “Tomorrow evening, say seven?”
         “I’m looking forward to it,” said Edgar
         Veronica handed him a note with her address. Edgar wondered if she always kept her written address handy but replaced that thought with contemplation of tomorrow evening’s prospects.

         Edgar’s knock was answered almost immediately. Veronica Stevens voice invited him in. He turned the knob and entered.
         To Edgar's untrained eye, Veronica was dressed in what appeared to be her pajamas, although he often saw women wearing borderline night wear and some dressed in slips and clothes that looked like undergarments.
          Veronica seemed a bit nervous but so was he. Edward felt that meeting a woman who was wearing bedroom attire was like getting to second base without sprinting.
         Veronica Stevens had two bottles of red wine open on her coffee table. Edgar sat down. She poured them each a full glass with deftness that indicated practice. They sipped. She poured again, keeping the glasses full.
         Edgar inquired about several of the unusual pictures hanging on nearby walls. They were in expensive frames, some originals, some just prints, although numbered and signed. The worst picture on her wall was better than anything Edgar had hanging back in his apartment.
         Veronica seemed eager to show off the rest of her collection. Edgar accommodated her, following along while making relevant conversation. They took a moment out of the tour to refill their wine glasses.
         Each of them spoke of the type of house they hoped to own someday, places they had lived and the hardship of apartment living.
         After circuiting Veronica's spacious apartment looking at a long series of wall hangings, they ended up standing very close to each other at the coffee table littered with wine bottles.
         Veronica Stevens filled Edgar's glass again and pulled him down so that he sat very close to her on the davenport. Edgar noticed two things as he sipped wine; He was getting drunk and Veronica Stevens had undone a couple of buttons on her pajama top. He felt like he was leaving second base for third.
         She filled his half empty glass.
          Veronica Stevens pushed up next to Edgar and spoke softly, "Were you the guy who met Patricia at the restaurant a week ago? And repeated some gossip to her?”
         "Well, yes, I was." Edgar was shocked out of his lust but knew that girlfriends share pretty much everything. Patricia had snitched him off to her dear friend.
         Veronica circled the tip of her index finger around the rim of her wine glass and said, "You don't really have a friend who saw Cameron Aldrich out with a younger woman?"
         She paused a moment before following up, "You don't do you? Cameron would never go to a place like your 'friend' suggested. Or behave as you described."
         Edgar's mind was a boozy but he knew that getting caught in a lie could sink tonight's wonderful evening with Veronica Stevens.
         "No. There is no friend," Edgar admitted. But he felt compelled to defend himself from appearing to be a wholesale liar.
         Veronica Stevens dropped her warm hostess image, "Patricia and Cameron Aldrich were lovers." Her voice quivered as she spoke the news to Edgar.
         He blurted out, “Do the police know about that relationship? Between Cameron Aldrich and Patricia Sanders?”
         Veronica looked away.
         Edgar repeated the question naming the two lovers again. Veronica Stevens’ head jerked around to look at him in the eyes.
         She bit her bottom lip. Veronica stood and walked over to a desk against the wall. She put her hand inside a drawer and pulled out a small automatic pistol with a large barrel.
         Veronica Stevens pointed the gun at Edgar's chest and said, “Now, why would you tell Patricia that story about a blonde dating Cameron Aldrich?”
         Her fixed stare and angry tone convinced Edgar to come clean. He told her the story about his eavesdropping through the palms at the restaurant that day. "I was afraid that you were Cameron Aldrich's girlfriend. I didn't know it was Patricia Sanders. Not 'til now."
         “I don’t believe anything you say.”
         Edgar sat his wine glass on the table and stood to clear his head.
          "Oh, it's true. I’m sorry for listening in. But then Aldrich Cameron and Patricia turned up dead. It all seemed so strange. Did Patricia Sanders kill Cameron?"
         “Cameron needed time to get his assets into a foreign bank. Then he was going to divorce his wife. After that, he and I were going to Spain to live. Far away from little grimy people like you.” She waved the pistol at Edgar to make her point.
          "Patricia killed Cameron for that?"
         "No, you idiot. She fooled Cameron into loving her. Talked him out of running away with me. He cut me off from his life. I had done everything for him. For us. But he had moved on to Patricia. He deserved to die."
         "Then who killed Patricia?" Edgar regretted asking before he finished the question.
         “Patricia was not going to go quietly."
         “Quietly?” Edgar asked.
         "She was going to tell the police everything, about both of us loving Cameron and me shooting him. I had to kill her. Cameron never loved Patricia. He used Patricia to get to me. And now, you know too much, just like Patricia”
         "You’re going to kill me? The cops aren’t going to buy it," Edgar pleaded.
         She smiled. “I'm going to tell the police you forced your way in here. Your fingerprints are on the outside doorknob. You confessed to me that you had killed Patricia. Then you threatened to kill me. You wanted sex from both of us. I will tell them how sick you are."
         "I'm innocent!"
         "No, you’re guilty. Of listening in on other people’s telephone conversations. You should mind your own business, Edgar."
         Then Veronica Stevens screamed for effect, loud enough for the neighbors to hear.
         Edgar moved toward her attempting to wrench the gun from her hand. She clenched her teeth and pulled the trigger. Her first shot hit Edgar's shoulder and spun him around. He turned back toward her waving his hands to ward off another shot. Veronica Stevens pulled the trigger two more times.
         The cops arrived. They believed Veronica Stevens. She took a couple of weeks off to recover from the attempt on her life. Then she went to Spain for a long vacation.
          Edgar went to the morgue. Then to the cemetery, forever.

THE END