The Murderer's Daughters by Randy Susan Meyers

Author:Randy Susan Meyers [Meyers, Randy Susan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: General Fiction
ISBN: 9780312674434
Publisher: Sphere (UK)
Published: 2009-12-31T13:00:00+00:00

I pulled my shirt away from my chest, trying to shake in cooler air as I waited, next in line. My top had a high neck to hide my scars and long sleeves so I’d attract as little attention for being a woman as possible.

Officer McNulty’s grin showed his age. Blinding white dentures had replaced his familiar tobacco-stained teeth.

“Merry, how are you?” He gave me the briefest of examinations for contraband. “I hear from your father you’ve a position in a court.”

I nodded. “I work with the victims.”

He nodded. “Good, good for you.”

He said this as though working in criminal justice was my karmic reordering.

“Have a good visit,” he said. “It’s your father’s highlight. You’re a good girl.”

Everyone knew that, even if Lulu said it as a curse.

I walked across the never-changing floor. The spotted linoleum forever reminded me of blood splatter and bits of brain, a path to my father.

A grin split my father’s face, the same damn smile each time. Love me! Make me happy! Let me be a father for an hour!

I leaned in and felt his arms around me. Despite the rules, he snuck a hug in with the sanctioned kiss on the cheek. One of these days, Dad, I always warned him. One of these days, he wouldn’t get the benefit of the doubt and some new guard would pull him out and klop him right across the back.

Dad smelled smoky and a little stale. Metallic odors clung to him. From the bars on his cell? From the shop where he made glasses for the inmates? We still barely spoke of anything that went on inside Richmond, locking the prison away like the knowledge of a mad aunt.

“How about some circus peanuts,” Dad.” I put my hand down low and grabbed his, squeezing tight for a second, then pulling away from his iron grip. “I left a package for you. Hope it still tastes good after being X-rayed.”

“You look good, sugar.” We sat, and he peered across the table at me. “But tired. You’re not burning the candle at both ends again, are you?”

“Again? When did I ever burn them the first time?”

“Don’t kid a kidder.” He seemed concerned, trying to be a real father right in the middle of the visiting room.

Gray showed in the stubble of his beard. Poor Dad never got a close shave. His razors had to last a long time. How long had he been using the too-used blade that scraped his face?

“Do you need a refill in your account, Dad?”

He pushed my words away with his hands. “I’m fine. I’m working, aren’t I?”

“Right.” I’d get him some money as soon as I got home. I tried to remember how much I had in my checking account. Three hundred? I’d send twenty dollars.

“So who’s the guy?”

“What guy?”

“The guy who put those black rings under your eyes.”

I touched the thin skin beneath my eyes.

“Look, Tootsie, whoever he is, he isn’t right for you. You’re not back with that ballplayer, are you?”

“He’s not a ballplayer, Dad; he used to be.

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