Chapter 6
Although she knew where the money was coming from to pay him, Brenda was relieved not to see any sign of Jesus as she pulled into her driveway. The rains had let up, the day was still early, and she just didn't feel like being bothered. She turned off the car and gathered her things. As she got out of the car a woman approached her from across the street.
"Excuse me," the woman said, looking around as if someone might jump out of the bushes. "Do you live here?"
"Yes," Brenda said warily.
"I'm the Block Association president so it is my duty to inform you that the people on this block do not want this house here."
Brenda was not surprised but nevertheless she was appalled by the woman's gumption. "This house just happens to be my new home and unless a great wind is going to pick it up and carry it off someplace, it's not going anywhere!"
"It should be razed. Torn down. It's the scene of a recent murder, for God's sake."
Brenda licked her dry lips. "I'm well aware of that. As a matter of fact, I investigated and closed the case myself. The murderer . . . is dead. It's all over with."
"Really? I read in the papers that this house is connected with the Russian mafia. Those are dangerous people. We don't want that kind invading our neighborhood. Besides that, the tramp who lived here was a whore, excuse my French. I knew something was up, what with men coming and going all times of the day and night."
Brenda pulled the flyer from her bag. "Did you put this in my mailbox?"
The woman exhaled slowly, pursed her lips, and looked away.
"I'll take that as a yes." Brenda pushed the paper at the woman who slowly took it. "I will not be harassed by you or anyone else. I am the Deputy Chief of Police (gosh, there she was, having to pull rank again!) I live here now and that's the way it's going to stay. There is no prostitution or mafia business going on in my house. Now, I'd kindly like you to stay out of my yard, unless you're here on a friendly, social visit. And, I demand that you stay out of my mailbox! Is that understood?" Brenda didn't wait for a reply. "If you and the neighbors don't like this house being here, then I suggest you find another neighborhood to move to. Is that understood?" Brenda slammed the car door shut and watched as the woman marched back across the street.
As she walked to her own front door, one of the heels on Brenda's new shoes got caught in a loose cobblestone and broke. "Darnit, she said, examining the shoe. When she got these shoes the other day she had told herself that with the mortgage they would have to last a while. So much for that. Brenda limped inside and locked the door.