Past Imperfect (Sigrid Harald) by Margaret Maron Read Free Book Online

the law on minor things such as double-parking or parking at fire hydrants always gave Sigrid Harald a twinge of guilt. Obscurely, she’d promised herself that if she ever stopped feeling guilty, she’d stop doing it. Not that twinges of guilt made it alright, of course, but surely they proved that she didn’t feel entitled to break the law.
    As always when she found herself looping back and forth between guilt and morality, a Pavlovian reaction made her remember the moral struggles of an old school friend.
    Kathie deNobriga had been a committed activist who marched and fasted and boycotted specific products on behalf of downtrodden farm laborers and sweatshop workers the whole country over, but grapes were her Achilles heel. Others might be addicted to peanut butter or chocolates; Kathie kept a bowl of grapes in her room and nibbled on whatever was in season from September to June. Yet, when Chavez called for a boycott on behalf of California grapeworkers, she valiantly dumped the grapes and refilled her bowl with apples and bananas.
    Sometime later, Sigrid had spotted a little pile of twigs and seeds among the oranges on Kathie’s nightstand. “I thought you gave up grapes for the duration.”
    Sheepishly, Kathie had opened the lower drawer on her nightstand and brought out a bag of luscious purple bunches. “I’ve gone back to eating them, only now I sneak and that makes me feel really guilty, so I’m not enjoying them as much and that makes up for it don’t you think?”
    Remembering that bit of existential sophism, Sigrid left the visor down, locked the car and hurried past the people waiting in frozen resignation at the bus stop.
    A bell above the door tinkled as she entered the lab. Lou Bensinger lifted his head from the proof sheet he was examining and smiled at her through the large magnifying glass.
    “Ah, New York’s finest’s finest! Come to sell me tickets to the Policeman’s Ball, my darling?”
    Lou Bensinger had teased her since she was twelve and was one of the few people she felt at ease bantering with.
    “Only five hundred a pair, too, Lou. If I promise to dance every horah with you, how many tickets will you buy?”
    Trudy, his wife of forty years, came in from a back room. “Another Harald female come to flirt with my husband yet?” She circled the counter and gave Sigrid a big hug. “Too long since I’ve seen you!”
    She was even shorter than Lou, but she clasped the younger woman by both arms and looked up at her critically. “Ho, now, what’s this?”
    At once Sigrid realized that she hadn’t been in the lab since she’d had her long dark hair cut short. She gave a self-conscious shrug, but Trudy Bensinger was delighted.
    “Turn! Turn!” she commanded and Sigrid obediently did a three-sixty. “I like! So who’s the lucky man?”
    “Why must a man be involved when a woman cuts her hair?” Sigrid countered. “I merely thought it was time for a change.”
    “It is, it is! And I know just the change you need. My cousin Selma’s boy. The divorce, it wasn’t his fault. A doll he is. A lawyer, too. I’ll give him your number, okay?”
    Remembering some of those cousins’ sons (not to mention nephews, godsons, and the younger brothers of various in-laws) that Trudy had tried to foist off on her over the years, Sigrid hastily said, “No, please, Trudy. Actually, I am seeing someone right now.”
    “And when are we meeting this young man?”
    “Oh, it’s nothing like that.”
    “Then you can talk to Selma’s boy.”
    “I’d better tell Mother I’m here,” said Sigrid, retreating down the rear hall.
    “Coward!” Lou called after her.
    Sigrid found her mother in the lab’s common workroom. Lou’s Foto was a holdout against unnecessary high-tech gadgetry, and Anne was using a manual paper cutter on her last batch of photographs.
    “Siga?” She frowned and turned to check the clock on the wall behind her. “You early or am I late?”
    “Some of each. I was able to