Chapter 2
Brenda was a little nervous when she came home that evening. She didn't know if Jesus would be waiting for her. He seemed harmless enough but one never knew. She grabbed her mail from the mailbox and hurried inside and locked the door. She began to relax after she had downed a glass of merlot while standing in the kitchen. She poured another one and took a big sip. She jumped when the phone rang.
"Hello," she said, her words slightly slurred.
"It's me, Fritz. How you doing?"
"I'm okay," she said, leaning on the counter. "I just wish this rain would stop."
"It never rains here and suddenly we're deluged."
"Well, it needs to stop or I'm going to have a flood in my living room." She told him about the roof.
"You gotta get someone to fix that before it gets worse."
"No shit, Sherlock!"
"No need to get nasty."
"I'm sorry, Fritzy. I don't know if I should of bought this place."
"What? I thought you loved that house."
Brenda's head started to hurt. "I do, at least I think I do." Could she take aspirin along with the merlot?
"I don't understand."
She rubbed her eyes. "Neither do I. I'm tired. I haven't been sleeping well. And, you remember the nice work done in the kitchen?"
"Yeah."
"Well, the guy who did it showed up here today looking to get paid seven thousand dollars. He didn't even know Zoya Petrovna was dead. He seemed sorry she was dead, although I don't know if it was because she couldn't pay him now or if he really cared. Anyway, he thinks I should pay him. Should I?"
"Do you have it?"
"No, but that doesn't mean he shouldn't get paid."
"If it's going to tear you up like this, then find the money and pay him. I can loan you half."
"You'd do that, Fritzy?" Maybe she'd borrow the other half from her parents.
Fritz chuckled. "Yes, I will, and just in case you're wondering, no strings attached."
"Oh, Fritz. You're so sweet. So kind-hearted. How in the world did you ever end up with the FBI?"
Now he laughed. "If I tell you that I'd have to kill you."