Shadow of the Dark Angel (The Crime Files of Katy Green) by Gene O'Neill

Author:Gene O'Neill [O'Neill, Gene]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dark Moon Books
Published: 2018-05-31T11:00:00+00:00

PARTY FAVORS

* * *

“Hey, Sam, take a break,” Wilbur shouts over the symphony of the big machines. He and Danny have pushed two metal halves loaded with blankets behind the four other halves waiting to be balanced and dropped into the extractor, the working aisle in front of the big machines resembling the morning commute backup on Interstate 80.

You nod absently, handing Wilbur the control box.

He looks kind of puzzled as you pass by. “Sam, you ain’t been talking to that machine today . . . or you ain’t been listening. Whatcha got on your mind, man? You in love or something?”

You shake your head.

He’s right.

It’s been your worst day at work. The basement is exceptionally stifling—at least one hundred ten degrees—and you’ve been distracted and unsettled not only by the recurring question of domination by the Dark Angel, but tonight is Gisela’s party and you want to explain to her truthfully why you can’t come. But you’ve been unable to catch her eye all day, and short of just walking up to the end of the mangle and grabbing her arm, which you can’t do in front of all the other women, you haven’t thought of any other way to catch her attention. It’s almost like she’s avoiding even a passing glance in your direction. She’s angry at you.

You check the clock on the far wall on your way past the washers, 9:00 p.m. Maybe she’ll take her break now, too, like the other day, and you will have time for a private conversation. You hurry down to the cafeteria, buy a root beer, and wait in vain, finishing your drink alone.

No question in your mind now that your friend has been intentionally avoiding you the last few days. The realization compounds your sense of isolation. Tonight, you would’ve even welcomed Terry’s company but, as usual, he is behind in his sorting work and apparently not able to even take a break.

You go back to your station in the stifling laundry, but before you take charge of the extractor again, Wilbur says, “Mr. Clark wants to see you right now in his office.”

“W-What about, W-Wilbur?”

He just shrugs—Who knows?—shakes his head, and moves back to join Danny in front of the washers.

Of course you know what the boss wants. He’s going to chew you out for daydreaming, backing up the production of the entire laundry staff. You pause for a moment then force yourself to knock timidly on the partially-opened office door, dreading the confrontation with the normally mild-mannered laundry supervisor.

“Come in, Sam,” Mr. Clark says, not unkindly, from behind his tiny desk. “Have a seat.”

You sit down and wait for the axe to fall.

“Sam, I spoke to Father Nathan this afternoon on the phone. He called, wanting to talk specifically about you.”

Of course he is referring to your mentor down at CYA, who four months ago had contacted and convinced Mr. Clark, an old friend, to give you this job in the laundry at Sutter General Hospital.

“H-How is he?” you ask with genuine concern.

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