Chapter 2
For an unemployed woman, Wanda felt surprisingly good when she woke in the morning. Neither the loss of her job or the job she did on the bottle of Scotch the night before bothered her at all.
Naked, she walked into the kitchen to put the coffee on before going into the bathroom. Because Wanda was up earlier thsn the sun this morning, it was a bit on the dark side in the kitchen. She chose to fumble around in the half light instead of turning on the light since lights on in the morning just didn't seem right to her somehow.
As she reached for the coffee cannister on the shelf beside the window, Wanda's eye was caught by a motion in a window across the narrow alley. That particular apartment had been vacant for some time and she was glad to realize that those bare windows wouldn't be staring at her now.
The windows were still bare and although there was no light on in the room, enough light spilled in from another room so that the motion Wanda had seen was a woman who had just sat up in the bed. Beside the woman, Wanda could see another form huddled under the sheet.
Poor things, she thought, they probably think that because they have no light on in the room, they can't be seen. As she spooned out the rich, dark coffee into the perc, she hoped they would notice the light before beginning to dress. She plugged the perc in and walked to the bathroom.
When she got back to the kitchen, the coffee still wasn't ready. As she waited for it, she turned without thinking toward the window again.
The woman who had been sitting up in the bed was just pulling her nightie over her head. She had, Wanda was able to observe, a really magnificent figure. Although it was difficult to be sure under the circumstances, Wanda guessed her age at very early twenties. Her feminine instinct told her the pair were newlyweds. She smiled a little as she hoped they wouldn't do anything drastic without checking on the light.
It wasn't that her sensitivities were easily bruised by the sight of a young couple making love, it was just that she saw no point in the poor kids entertaining any nosy neighbors who would get their vicarious kicks out of watching their private act of love.
A second later, Wanda froze where she was and became a very nosy neighbor herself. It wasn't the sort of thing she would do normally, but the circumstances had just stopped being normal.
The sheet had been tossed back and the other occupant of the bed leaped up to embrace the nude woman. They were both women. The second one had slept nude and as her body moved, Wanda was able to see that she too was young and had quite a body.
Although Wanda felt uneasy about watching like this, she knew that she wasn't going to turn away. Somewhere behind her, a small click told her that the coffee was ready but she ignored it as she would have ignored the fire alarm had it sounded just then.
Through the window, the two women were rolling across the bed in a wild game which displayed long, sleek legs, fully curved buttocks arched upward, and firm, swaying breasts.
From time to time, the wrestling match would stop as they paused to kiss before going on with the game. It was obvious then that they were not just being playful.
Wanda hadn't become an experienced social worker without knowing something about lesbianism, but this was the first time she had ever actually seen it. She was stunned.
After a little while, one of the nudes turned quickly on the bed and knelt astride the other. Her hands held the other woman's wrists down on the bed in a classic wrestling pose. The one being held down looked up in a gesture of submission.
They remained that way for a little while and Wanda saw them as an erotic sculpture that could have graced a pagan temple on the Isle of Lesbos in another era.
The kneeling woman sat back on her heels then as the other moved up a little in the bed and parted her long legs in obvious invitation. Her legs bent and the knees came up high. The gift she was offering to her partner was blatantly obvious.
The second woman crawled around on the bed until she knelt beside her. Even in the less than perfect light, Wanda was able to see the enlarged tips jutting from the dangling globes as she hovered over her victim.
Reaching across the waiting partner, her hands moved under the raised thighs and held them from below as her face moved downward with maddening slowness. In a few seconds, her face was lost from sight and the lying beauty began to writhe in passion.
Unable to tear herself away from the window, Wanda saw the passion-crazed woman reach to clasp the kneeling body and draw it across her in terrible need. One leg raised so that the woman now knelt astride her head.
Hands wrapped around smooth, firm hips. Her face looked up hungrily, the arched body lowered slowly all the way until it could go no farther.
Wanda realized she was trembling as she watched the two headless bodies making only small motions now. In a little while, there was no motion at all and they seemed to have become statues again. This lasted for only seconds.
When the bodies seemed to lift right off the bed in a fleshy explosion, Wanda realized what was happening. Their moment had come at the same time.
As she watched them writhe in the ecstasy of their aftermath, Wanda got yet another shock as she realized where her own hand had wandered without her knowing it. Angrily, she hurried out of the room. In her bedroom, she picked up a robe and slipped it on.
She forced herself to return to the kitchen then but was very careful not to glance toward the window. Pouring a cup of coffee, she carried it into the living room. It didn't surprise her at all that she required two hands to carry it and still the cup rattled in the saucer.
Fighting to bring herself under control, Wanda realized just how terrifying it had been. The terror had not been in what she had seen the two women doing, but rather, in what had happened to her while she watched.
Deep inside her robe, she felt the fires still raging. She forced her knees apart and tried to concentrate on the coffee. It didn't help much.
Lady, she scolded herself, you're going to be in great shape for job hunting unless you get your mind out of your panties. When she saw that her cup was empty, she went back into the kitchen for a refill. The room across the way was deserted now. Only the rumpled bed remained as a reminder of what had happened. In addition to the visible reminder though, there was another. She couldn't see it, but she could feel it glowing with white heat between her thighs.
Wanda's reaction to it was more of anger than anything else, anger and fear. Lesbianism had never appealed to her. In her college days, there had been opportunities to dabble, there had even been a few narrow escapes in the sorority house when gals in search of new companions had almost made it sound attractive enough to take a try at it, but she had resisted it.
After that, it had never entered her mind at all. In her work, she ran into the odd case where a teenaged girl had fallen into the nylon trap, but that was something different, that was someone else. Wanda Tupper, she told herself, could never possibly become aroused at such a thing.
Not much, you pious phony, she scolded herself as she finished her second cup of coffee and went for a shower. She considered that a much better idea than a tub this morning. She even took the precaution of adjusting the temperature of the water so that it was a little cooler than usual.
By the time she left, Wanda had decided to postpone job hunting for the time being. There were still a lot of loose ends to be tied up with people who would be expecting to see her again. They had come to depend on her to help with their problems and the shock of finding a new social worker when they expected her could undo a lot of the work she had done.
It would be easy for them, she thought, to think that she had given up on them because they meant nothing to her. Ideally, she would have advised them at least a month in advance that she would no longer be seeing them. She would have had time to introduce the new worker to her cases and in that way aid in their adjustment.
Still, it was just so much wistful thinking now. If Bryce Jenkins had been a real social worker instead of an ambitious man with more concern for his own advancement than for the people he was supposed to help, she would have had the time to make the break properly. Come to think of it, Wanda mused, if that were the case, she wouldn't be leaving the job at all so it was pure conjecture anyway.
As she started her car in the basement garage, Wanda began planning her route. It was important to her that she see as many people as possible and break the news to them before they heard it from her replacement. Just for a moment, she thought of asking Bryce to give her a few days to talk to her old cases before sending a new worker in.
That was out of the question, she knew. After their session last night, he would hit the ceiling at the mere suggestion that she continue to see her old cases. She was just going to have to cover as many calls as she could today. It would mean cutting each visit to the minimum, but it was really the only thing she could do.
The first call set what she knew would be the pattern for the day. Mrs. Klaty had a pair of problem children, no husband, and a perpetual unhappy, beaten outlook. When she heard the news, Wanda feared the woman would go to pieces. As it was, before she could get away, the woman was crying and pleading for her to try to find some way that she could still talk to the kids.
They didn't all cry, but the reaction was generally the same on every call.
When she finally took a break a little after one o'clock, Wanda refused to even think of eating.
It had been the toughest day in her career and there was still an afternoon of it to come.
Driving back toward the edge of the business district, she found a bar and went inside for something that would offer more solace, if less nutrition, than food.
For quite a while, she just sat there toying with the glass without tasting it. She didn't try to tell herself that everybody loved her, she knew better. Considering how little time she had though, she had already decided to see only those for whom there was some hope.
With the others, it didn't matter. Either they were beyond hope or just didn't care. To them, one social worker was as bad as another. They wanted handouts and nothing else and usually became abusive when they didn't get everything they demanded.
When she did get around to her drink, Wanda finished it quickly and decided that one more would constitute a meal. She had another but this time she didn't toy with it. It was still a little shy of two o'clock when she got back into her car and headed back into the dismal district that had been her beat.
Somehow, it looked uglier than ever today and that didn't surprise her. Her whole world looked a lot less attractive than it had yesterday, as far as that was concerned. When her memory flashed her a picture of the two women in the apartment across the way, she kicked it out fast. That was just about the last thing she wanted to think about at this time.
Wanda threw herself back into the unpleasant chore of announcing her departure to the people who had become almost friends. Each time there was a suggestion that she was being taken away from them because she was doing her job too well, Wanda denied it.
Most important of all, she knew, was that they retain some hope, some measure of faith so that whoever followed her would not have to deal with a resentment that would make her work impossible.
Because she realized the danger of either telling them the truth about her firing on the one hand, or lying to them, on the other, Wanda just made sure that she didn't discuss it at all.
It was after six o'clock when she climbed tiredly into her car and started the long drive home. She was just passing a liquor store when she remembered that she had almost drained her Scotch supply the previous night.
Although she wasn't normally a heavy drinker, Wanda realized that more than one or two little nightcaps would be in order tonight. It's entirely possible, she admitted to herself, that you are going to get yourself well and truly potted tonight, lady.
Veering sharply toward the curb, she hit the brakes hard and pulled up just a few doors past the store. A car swerved past her and the driver glared at her as he leaned on the horn. Wanda didn't even bother guessing what he was saying about this particular driver. The same to you, Charlie Brown, she muttered under her breath as she slipped out of the car and went into the store to pick up the ingredients for a possible headache in the morning.
She still wasn't hungry when she got home, but she knew she was going to have to force herself to eat something. Looking through the refrigerator, she found a fairly big pork chop and decided that later she would get around to it. There was canned corn in the cupboard, she knew. It wasn't going to be her usual standard of eating, but it was as big a compromise as she was prepared to make.
While she was in the kitchen, it seemed only reasonable to pour her first drink of the evening. Deciding that it would be better to take it easy, she drowned two ounces of Scotch with about five of water and took it back to the living room.
Parking the glass on the desk near her phone, she made herself dial her answering service to check on messages. The answering service was just one of the luxuries she was going to have to give up if she didn't come up with a decent job within a couple of months, she realized, but this wasn't the time to worry about it.
There had been a deluge of calls. Those she didn't want to return, she didn't even bother writing down as the operator gave them to her. One she knew she would return, though, was from Mike Hanson. He had taken the trouble to leave her two numbers where he could be reached. Considering that she had planned on calling him anyway, she took it as a good omen that arrived on a definitely bad day.
Her day didn't get any better when the operator told her that the Police Chief's office had phoned three times. She jotted that number down. Wanda wasn't that anxious to talk to him, but phoning him was better than having a squad car come to the door to take her away. It would upset the neighbors, not to mention what it would do to her.
Looking over the list again after she hung up the phone, Wanda decided she would call Mike Hanson and Chief Markey in that order. The rest of the calls would keep for another day.
She found Mike at the first number and his voice sounded excited when she identified herself.
"Wanda, I've got to talk to you about a half a dozen things including the word I got about your being fired. Say it isn't so."
"I'll say it isn't so if you want me to, but it is."
"When can I talk to you and where?" his tone was insistent, but Wanda saw it as genuine interest rather than bad manners.
"I've got nothing to do all evening except rest up after a very tough day. Does that fit your schedule?"
"Sure," he answered quickly. "Can I take you out to dinner somewhere?"
"It's good of you to ask, Mike, but I don't think I could go out tonight if the building caught fire. Would it terrify you if the unemployed lady invited you up here to talk?"
"I never did scare worth a damn," he replied. "How soon may I show up?"
"I just need time enough to change so I won't look so unemployed. How about an hour?"
As she hung up, Wanda was curious about his obviously intense interest, but she noted that she was also feeling much better. The call to the Chief of Police wasn't likely to add anything to her improvement, she knew, but since it had to be done, she decided to get it out of the way right now.
She had just picked up the phone when the buzzer sounded in the quiet room. Wanda gave a small jump and swore under her breath as she hurried across the room to answer it.
She asked who it was and heard irritation in the voice that identified her caller as the Police Chief. Chief Markey was never really a jovial chap, but this time, he sounded much less charming than ever. She pressed the buzzer to admit him.
Normally, Wanda would have been at the apartment door to greet any visitor coming up, but this time she decided to sit tight and let him knock. While she tasted her small victory, she also took a couple of tastes of her drink.
When he did knock, there was no danger of her not hearing it. She took her time about walking over to let him in.
"Good evening Chief," she kept her voice pleasant. "Won't you come in?"
"It was good of you to answer your door, Miss Tupper," he glowered. "It would make things easier if you'd return your phone calls though. I'm a busy man."
"I'm flattered that so busy a man would take time out to call me three times and then come to visit me." She ushered him to a chair and returned to her seat at the desk where her drink waited for her.
In view of his attitude, Wanda decided to be completely rude and sip at her drink without offering him one.
Before Wanda could ask him the purpose of his three phone calls, he began to make it clear.
"Miss Tupper," he began gruffly, "there are those people who think you're a very fine social worker. I'm in no position to judge that and I don't think that much of social workers and all the rest of the sob-sisters anyway."
"Don't apologize, Chief," Wanda retorted when he paused for breath, "I don't think much of cops so we're about even I guess."
"That's what I'm here to talk to you about. So you don't like cops, but I notice you're real chummy with young punks who rob service stations and shoot people."
"It's my job to be chummy with a lot of people, Chief. At least it was my job until today. That should please you."
"It makes no difference to me," he snapped. "There'll be another sob-sister there to take your place tomorrow. I just hope she's a bit smarter than you."
"It's obvious, Chief," Wanda paused to take a sip of her drink, "that you're qualified to evaluate intelligence. Your manners tell me a lot about your qualifications."
"You can get as smart as you like, Miss Tupper, your type doesn't bother me. Since you're so smart, maybe you can figure out how you're going to defend yourself against a charge of accessory after the fact."
"Are you laying the charge, Chief?" Wanda refused to be perturbed and told him so with a freezing glare.
"I'll lay the charge when I'm ready," he snapped. "I just want you to know it's hanging over your head."
"And you took all that trouble just to tell me that? Come on, Chief, say what you really came to say. You're not going to scare me, this isn't like one of your little helpers pushing some poor prostitute around."
"I'm not sure about that," he almost smiled, "considering the kind of people you hang around with. Maybe you do get your kicks that way."
"Not a chance, Chief," she refused to let her anger show, "I'd be afraid of ending up with a son like you."
"Save your smart answers for the judge, Miss Tupper. All you have to do is tell me where Carol Cook is."
"How should I know where she is?" It wasn't difficult for Wanda to look sincere. She hadn't the faintest idea where the girl was.
"Let me spell it out for you just once, Miss Tupper. Carol Cook told you she was in the car when that punk knocked over the service station. When she got mad at her boy friend, she also told us. That was later though.
"Even though you covered up for him, we still caught him, but now the Cook girl has disappeared. Without her, we don't have a case that will stand up in court. I think you know where she is and you're going to tell us."
Instead of answering him, Wanda drained her glass, walked into the kitchen and poured another drink. She expected to hear him following her but he didn't move. He was still glaring past her when she returned to the room.
"Chief Markey," she spoke slowly, "I have no idea where Carol is now or where she went or when or why. I don't expect you to believe me and, frankly, I don't give a damn whether you do or not." As she completed her challenge, Wanda held the glass in front of her and examined the contents carefully.
"I'm not kidding, Miss Tupper," the man glared angrily. "I'll lay that charge first thing in the morning unless you start acting like a decent, responsible citizen and show some cooperation."
"Chief Markey," Wanda stood as she talked, "you may lay that charge right now if you wish and I'll make a fool of you in court. Unless you really are as stupid as you appear to be, you can't possibly hope to get a conviction. I'm sure your pal Bryce Jenkins would love to see me charged with this, but you can tell him for me that if I appear in court, I'll make him squirm so badly that he'll run screaming out of the city and never show his face again. You may leave now."
Just to make sure he understood that she was serious, Wanda opened the door and stood waiting for him to leave.
"You're making a very big mistake, Miss Tupper," the man said as he stood slowly. "Lining up with the punks and pros is one thing, refusing to cooperate with the police is another. If you get smart and change your mind, you can leave a message with anyone at the station. Carol will never know you told us."
"If it's any consolation, Chief," Wanda replied calmly, "I have no idea where Carol is. Also, and I say this just as honestly, if I did know, I wouldn't tell you even if it meant being boiled in oil. I may not have a job, but I'm still a social worker, not what your people call a stool pigeon."
Wanda braced herself for his retort, but there was none. He stalked out of the apartment and walked to the elevator without looking back. It would have been easy for Wanda to feel elated at having mastered him, but she sensed that she had made a powerful enemy and that he, like Bryce Jenkins and, probably, Mayor Paulson, would be out to get her in any way they could.
After she closed the door behind him, Wanda walked out to the balcony with the glass in her hand. Why, she asked herself the question she had asked so often before, do these people insist on dealing only in blacks and whites? Why can't they even try to see all the grey areas where those miserable, unhappy people spend most of their lives?
Wanda felt no great sympathy for a young punk who would shoot a man to steal his money, but she couldn't lose sight of the fact that the kid was a product of a rotten environment that was permitted to exist by all the people who could do something about it if only they cared enough.
She didn't need the chief to tell her what she should have done, she knew that. It was just that society seemed more interested in putting them in jail than in helping them to crawl out of the muck.
Her victory of a few minutes ago was short lived. As she held her glass and looked out at the city below, Wanda was forced to realize that in spite of bad manners, bad motives and all, the Chief was closer to the correct, legal way of doing things than she. She had broken the law, he was trying to uphold it.