Look Both Ways

Look Both Ways by Carol J. Perry

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Authors: Carol J. Perry
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the Salem Police Department’s evidence room. Not too many months ago I’d had to use that sharp, slim little device to save myself from a killer. I looked away from that sad reminder and picked up the paper-covered books Mr. Pennington had indicated.
    â€œI’ll take these up to my new, um, office and get started.”
    â€œExcellent, my dear. You’ll find paper, pens, etcetera in your desk, and feel free to ask for anything else you might need, and here’s the key to your truck.” He handed me a Ford key on a key chain with a yellow plastic smiley face attached. “It’s down in the warehouse. I started it myself this morning, so I know it’s in good running condition.”
    â€œI’m sure it’ll be fine,” I said, with more confidence than I felt.
    Minutes later I sat at my new/vintage desk. I placed the three plays on the scarred surface, then reached into my handbag, pulled out the dream book, and put it on top of the pile. After a tiny hesitation I pulled my phone from the handbag, too, and punched in Pete’s number.
    He answered on the first ring. “Lee? You okay? I’ve been worried about you.”
    â€œI’m fine, and sorry about all the drama,” I said. “How about a do-over tonight? I’ll send out for pizza, and we can tear into that bureau.”
    Long pause.
    â€œWell, babe. I’m sorry. Can’t do it tonight. Something, um, came up. Maybe another time. Okay?”
    Another long pause. This time on my end.
    â€œUh, all right . . . okay. Talk to you later.”
    â€œSure. And look, I know you’re dying to see what’s in the secret compartments. Why don’t you just go ahead and open them without me?”
    â€œI’ll think about it,” I said, my tone a little too frosty. “Maybe I will. Bye.”
    I hung up, then stared at the phone in my hand for a long moment before I put it back in the handbag. I moved the dream book to one side and picked up the first play, Hobson’s Choice. I honestly had never even heard of this play, so I checked Wikipedia for information. I began to read.
    Hobson’s Choice is a play by Harold Brighouse, the title taken from a popular expression, Hobson’s choice—meaning no choice at all . . .

CHAPTER 12
    By noontime I had read the entire script of Hobson’s Choice and had unveiled the sheet-covered blob in the corner of my so-called office. The action of the play, as Mr. Pennington had explained, takes place in a 1930s-era shoemaker’s shop A dozen or so of the Thonet chairs from the shoe department had been carefully stacked in the corner, and Buster Brown, the Poll-Parrot macaw, and the giant patent-leather pump, each one tissue paper–wrapped, had been arranged atop one of Trumbull’s old wooden counters. It seemed that Mr. Pennington had done a good job so far, but I’d need to find some old-fashioned shoes and boots and maybe an iron shoe last and cobblers’ tools. The costume department might have 1930s dresses and suits. I made a note to check on that and tossed the sheets back over the blob. I started a list and then moved on to the second play in the pile.
    My phone buzzed, and I reached for it eagerly, hoping it was Pete calling to explain his strange behavior. Caller ID revealed River North’s name.
    â€œHi, River,” I said. “I was going to call you later.”
    â€œYou were? Any new visions? Advances in the romance department?”
    â€œNo visions, and the romance department might be moving in reverse. I had a weird dream, though. Want to hear about it?”
    â€œSure I do. But first, what’s up with you and Pete? Is he coming back to open the secret compartments?”
    â€œGuess not. He says he has something else to do tonight.”
    â€œNothing odd about that. He’s a cop. He always has stuff to do. How come you sound so down about it?”
    â€œI’m not sure,” I

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