LITMIR.BIZ

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okay.” Ben hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol in over eleven months. “I’ll take a soda.”

      Trey glanced to his own drink on the table in front of a large-screen TV.

      “Don’t even think about it.”

      “All right.”

      Trey got Ben his soda and took a chair facing him. “It’s a crime you’ve never visited me here just because you hit on hard times.”

      Ben took a swig of the soda. “It was a little more than hard times.”

      “It didn’t have to be. Your life as you knew it didn’t have to be over.”

      “Mallory didn’t agree with you.”

      “What did you expect from a snob like her?”

      “She had her good points.” And she had. Loyalty just wasn’t one of them. Of course, he hadn’t given her much choice when he’d drunk himself into the gutter and stayed there for months.

      Trey sipped his scotch. “So what brings you here?”

      “I delivered pups last night. Five of them.” He shook his head. “It reminded me of Harriet. I got thinking about my old life, I guess.”

      “No kidding? Where was this?”

      “At Cassidy Place.”

      “You still work there?”

      “Not exactly. Long story.” He glanced around the apartment. “So, how’s everything going?”

      “Great.” Trey’s expression intensified. “Since you seem more open tonight, I’m going to ask again if I can help get you out of this funk and back to your real world.”

      “My real world has no appeal to me anymore.” Except for the fact that, if he wasn’t a bum, he might be able to go after Emily.

      “Come on, Ben. I can help you get a job. A good job. You can start over in the corporate world.”

      He felt himself weakening. “Nobody’s going to hire me after my two-year disappearance.”

      “You don’t know that.”

      Ben didn’t say anything.

      Trey studied him. “It’s a woman, isn’t it?”

      He glared at his friend. “What are you talking about?”

      “Why you’re here.”

      “I came here to see you.” He scanned the living room. “Like I said, I miss sitting around and shooting the breeze with you.”

      “I think you miss your old life. And I think maybe some female’s got you thinking that way.”

      Ben frowned at the validity of what Trey said.

      “I recognize the signs, buddy. I’ve known you for a long time.”

      “There’s no woman, Trey.” He picked threads on a pillow. “But I have been thinking about what you said about investigating Mackenzie.” Ben wondered if, down deep, that’s why he’d come here tonight.

      “I haven’t done anything more on it, like you said. But I could put out some additional feelers, if you’re interested?”

      “I guess I am. What harm could there be for you to at least look into it?”

      “None that I can see.”

      He looked at this friend. “And it might help out the employees.”

      “Just the employees?”

      He shook his head. “I’d rather live like I do, than go back to where I went the year after Mackenzie screwed me.”

      “Is playing it safe worth the price?”

      It had been. Until Emily. But he wouldn’t tell Trey that, at least not yet. “Yeah, it is.”

      Trey just waited.

      Finally, Ben said, “So, okay, do it. Poke around some. Don’t go all out or anything. But see if you can get some dirt on Mackenzie.”

      CHAPTER FOUR

      EMILY PULLED INTO CASSIDY Place’s parking lot at five o’clock. The air was still warm and filled with the smell of budding flowers. Since it was Wednesday, she wouldn’t see Ben, but she wanted to get her mind off her own issues.

      The first thing Emily saw when she entered the building was Alice standing by the stove with Jimmy and the three volunteers who’d come in to cook at four o’clock. The older woman’s expression was a mixture of anger and disgust.

      “Oh, my God, what happened?” Emily asked, looking past them.

      The tables and floor were covered with milk and flour, creating a gooey mass. Ripped apart bread bags, fresh vegetables and frozen meat had been tossed into the mess.

      Alice shook her head. “Vandals. They ransacked the kitchen, then left their signature on the walls of the dining hall.”

      “I don’t understand. Why would someone do this?”

      Two police officers entered just as she asked the question.

      Alice nodded to them. “Maybe they can answer that.”

      The older cop, stout and stern-looking, crossed to Alice. “This seems like a case of pure vandalism, Mrs. Smith. You’re sure nothing’s been taken?”

      “Not even the food that wasn’t destroyed.”

      “Well, there’s no use in dustin’ for prints. This place would be a hotbed of suspicious ones. We took pictures and we’ll ask around the neighborhood if anybody saw anything, but if I were you, I wouldn’t count on findin’ out who did this.” He glanced at the other volunteers and at Emily. “Meanwhile, you all should be careful about coming and going here. I’ll alert patrol cars, but don’t walk out alone at night or hang around inside without a lot of people to keep you company.” He made some notes on his pad. “And get those locks reinforced. Heavy dead bolts at the top and bottom oughtta do it.”

      “I’ve already called the chair of the board,” Alice said. “He’s going to have a locksmith here tomorrow.”

      After the police left, Emily faced Alice. “I’m so sorry.”

      “Damn it.” The older woman kicked a nearby stool, then pulled herself together. “Well, no use cryin’ over spilled milk—” she rolled her eyes “—pardon the pun. We have to clean up. And somebody has to tell them outside there won’t be a meal tonight.”

      “I will.” They all turned to see Ben standing in the doorway. “I heard what the police said. I’m sorry.”

      Alice gave Ben a grateful smile. “Thanks. I’d appreciate it if you’d tell the guests.”

      As Ben left, Emily wondered why he was here on a Wednesday, so early in the evening. Shrugging, she rolled up her sleeves. “What can I do?”

      Alice surveyed the kitchen. “Might as well start in here. Then we can see about the damage in the dining room.”

      They began by tossing the trashed food into barrels, and went on to clean up appliances and countertops. They were about half finished when they heard banging in the dining room. “Oh, dear,” one of the volunteers said. “Do you think the vandals are back?”

      Everybody in the kitchen stood still. Finally, Jimmy crept to the swinging doors, cracked one and peeked through. Smiling, he pushed the door all the way open. “Way to go Ben,” he called out.

      There were about a dozen men straightening tables and righting chairs. Emily scanned the dining hall where graffiti had been scrawled on walls in ugly black lettering: epithets, four-letter words, boasts including I Am the King!

      In

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