Pulse by Edna Buchanan Page A

one—”
    “Jill,” Rory interrupted, “it looks like my car won’t be back by morning. Could you … ?”
    The woman sighed loudly, rolled her eyes and slung a hip to one side. “This is screwing up my whole schedule,” she complained petulantly. “You know we agreed—”
    “As soon as I have wheels, I’ll drive for two of your weeks, I promise.”
    Cries of “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy” chorused from the driveway.
    “Okay,” Jill said reluctantly, “but in the future we’ve got to stick to the schedule. It’s not fair to everybody if we don’t.” She cast a last curious glance over her shoulder as she left. “Good luck with the car.”
    “She’s got a big mouth,” Rory whispered, as Billy scampered into the kitchen. “A biggg mouth.” She glanced after her son. “And, of course, so does he.”
    “All right.” Frank folded his reading glasses and stacked the files. “Too late to tackle the banks today. I’ll call Sam Townsend at home tonight and rattle his cage so he can pursue it full throttle in the morning. We can straighten them out in the a.m. When we do”—he thumped a stack of papers clipped to attached envelopes—“these are the bills that must be paid immediately, first thing tomorrow. I’ll have my lawyer make some calls about the car.”
    “Do I try to bail it out, or buy a new one?”
    “It’s healthier for your credit to make things right with the lender. Then you can decide whether to keep it.” He snapped shut the notebook computer.
    “Now, while Billy works on his homework, you need to tackle yours. This is your assignment. Call the utility compa-nies, now, before five, explain the circumstances, promise full payment and tell them the checks are going out tomorrow. We want to forestall any inconvenience and additional charges for restoring service. With your prior good record you may be able to talk them out of some or all of the late charges. After five o’clock you start calling the credit card companies.”
    “Gotcha.” She gave a little salute. “How can I ever thank you?”
    “You already did. Besides, there’s nothing to thank me for yet. We still have a lot of work to do, but we’re off to a good start. I’ll call you in the morning.” He leaned into the kitchen. “See ya, Billy. Take care of things around here.”
    “ ‘Bye.” The boy scarcely looked up from his workbook at the table.
    Frank drove home in the state of euphoria reserved for good Samaritans on a roll. He tuned in to the evening stock market report on the radio, mulling over the investments he would suggest once the Alexander finances were in order. Suddenly he slapped the steering wheel, struck by a thought. They hadn’t booted up Alexander’s computer! Perhaps the man had begun entering his statements into a computer file. But he would still keep hard copies, wouldn’t he? They had to be there somewhere.
    He found Kathleen at a Chippendale table in the front hall, arranging fresh-cut flowers in a crystal vase. She glanced up coolly as he came in and kissed her cheek. “Have a good day?”
    “Got a lot done,” he said enthusiastically, and headed for his study.
    “Glad to hear it. My day certainly could have gone better.”
    He paused, suddenly wary. “What happened?”
    “I was concerned. We all were. Sue Ann said you never arrived at the office. She had no clue where to reach you.” She used a small tool to snip the stem end of a Chinese peony. The severed clipping flew into the air and bounced on the marble floor. She ignored it and slid the sheath into the half-filled vase.
    “Who says I have to punch a time clock with her?” He spoke with the righteous indignation of an innocent man. He stooped to pluck the green snippet off the floor. It was wet and slick, as hard as bone and smelled like a dark woods. “I told you I planned to work on something today. Since when do you check up on me?”
    “Since you spent months in the hospital, underwent major surgery and nearly