Three Twisted Stories by Karin Slaughter Read Free Book Online Page B

keep them short. His wife had long fingernails. She had to be careful when she picked up things.
    Whatever the store policies, Judy had managed to give herself some flair. Her dark green dress was accented by an emerald-encrusted brooch on her shoulder. The navy blue scarf wrapped around her hair should’ve clashed with the green, but she managed to carry it off.
    “Sir?” Judy said.
    She was holding out the phone to Charlie. He took the receiver. The nervousness was back. He’d eaten those chocolates. There was no way to return them. Would they call the police?
    He cleared his throat. “This is Charles Lam.”
    There was nothing on the line except music. Karen Carpenter’s version of “Ticket to Ride.” Jesus Christ on a Peep, Charlie was never gonna get away from that song.
    Finally, the music stopped. “Hello?”
    “Yes, this is Charles Lam.”
    “I have your account information, but I need your wife’s confirmation that you are who you say you are.”
    Charlie chuckled, letting her know this was all some sort of misunderstanding. “Of course. Call her at home.”
    “We have the number on file. I already tried, but no one picked up.”
    Charlie glanced over his shoulder at the waiting women. They looked even angrier than Judy. Charlie felt sweat running down his back and pooling into his underwear.
    “Sir?”
    Charlie breathed into the phone. “Could you try her again?”
    The woman said nothing, but he heard the sharp clicks of a rotary being dialed. Charlie felt his shoulders hunch. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so out of place.
    “Hello?”
    “I’m here,” Charlie said, but he realized the woman was talking to someone else.
    “This is Ms. Cooper at Davison’s department store. I was calling to speak to Mrs. Charles Lam?”
    Charlie held his breath. He strained his ears to listen. All he heard was background noise: typewriters whirring and other women talking. He pictured them sitting at their desks making phone calls to husbands to verify that their wives were allowed to spend their money. This was ridiculous. Charlie had a job. Hell, he didn’t just have
a
job, he employed other people. What right did they have to treat him this way? This was all just a misunderstanding. He’d left his wallet at home. It’s not like he was a bank robber.
    “Sir?” The woman came back on the line. “I’m sorry. Mrs. Lam wasn’t in.”
    “Who did you talk to?”
    “The maid, I believe. Can you hand the phone back to Ms. McGuire?”
    Charlie did as he was told. He felt hollow inside, like the time he’d shown up to school and all the other kids were gone because their parents had paid for them to take a field trip.
    The phone slammed down. Judy glared at him.
    Charlie mumbled, “I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say. He walked away from the counter. His shoulders were up around his ears by the time he reached the door. He half expected a security guard to snatch him up by the collar and drag him to the police station. Shit, what would that be like? Waiting in jail with a bunch of other bums, hoping to God his wife would come bail him out?
    Speaking of his wife, where the hell was she? Sue was always home. She didn’t trust the maid. She was sure the woman was stealing the change off Charlie’s bureau. He kept it in a jar. Every Christmas, he would count it out and they’d use the money to buy presents for his daughter.
    “Shit,” Charlie muttered. He had a strange image pop into his head: Sue banging some guy. Charlie couldn’t see the man’s face, but for the life of him, he couldn’t get the idea out of his head.
    Charlie pushed on the door just as a woman was opening it. “I’m sorry, I—”
    The woman smiled at him. “Please.” She held open the door.
    It was an awkward situation, but Charlie went first. Outside, the sun was even more brutal than before. His head started to pound as he walked through the outdoor eating area. The entire mall was packed with