Ro?
Yes
dear.
Do
we have any liniment?
Fred
and Rosemary Hyde had been married for thirty years; friendly, quiet. They kept
to themselves, mostly.
Fred
did all the cooking, he was something of a gourmand. Rosemary made figurines, and statuettes. Decorative little pieces. Cast in epoxy resin.
Ro?
Did you hear me?
Yes
dear I’m getting it. Shoulder acting up again?
Darn
thing never did set right…I gave that guy what for, though, didn’t I Ro.
Yes
you did dear, she said and kissed his cheek. She opened the tube and crinkled
her nose a little.
Oh
my…I hate that smell.
I
know, Ro, but it works. Show on yet?
Diagnosis: Murder. They watched it every week.
That Dick Van Dyke was so versatile.
They
sat through the opening montage and an Anacin commercial. The doorbell rang.
Fred and Rosemary looked at one another.
Fred
had barely opened the door when a man burst into the room.
Where
is it, where do ya keep it?
His hand was in his pocket; it appeared he had a gun.
Where
is what, who the heck are you?
Never
mind who I am—the safe, where is it?
Rosemary
and Fred exchanged looks.
We
don’t have a safe. I don’t know what the heck we have that we’d need a safe.
The
man blinked.
Now
look...I have a gun. And there’s a safe around here somewhere. I know there is.
Honestly
there isn’t, said Rosemary. These houses all look so much alike, are you sure
you have the right house?
1313
Crestmoor Drive, I know what I’m doing, lady. And you got five seconds to show
me where that safe is.
Fred
smiled.
Sorry,
Chief. This is Crestview Drive.
Happens a lot, remember a few months ago Ro, that Amway guy?
Oh
my, yes. He was quite a talker.
Fred
chuckled.
Wasn’t
he though. I thought he’d never—
Shut
up! Just shut up and let me think…
Rosemary
took a small, quiet step forward.
You
don’t look at all well.
She
caught Fred’s eye and nodded toward the kitchen.
She’s
right, son, you don’t. You don’t look well, when was the last time you had a home-cooked meal?
…you
understand this is a gun, right?
Of
course it is.
And
that I’m prepared to use it.
Of
course you are.
That’s
just your finger.
Isn’t
it son.
The
man swallowed hard and looked at his shoes.
I
have kids, ya know? I was laid off…been seven months now…my wife’s sick and...listen,
you seem like nice people…
Fred and Rosemary looked at one another.
The
man was close to tears.
They’re
gone now but you remind me of my folks.
Rosemary
spoke softly.
Well
you came to the right place after all. Fred, isn’t there still some of that pot roast? You go with Fred into the kitchen and let him make you something. He’s the
cook in this house, I can barely boil water.
She
gave a little laugh.
Then
we’ll get all this silliness sorted out.
The
man wiped his eyes. He and Fred started toward the kitchen.
Rosemary
took a praying hands statue from the mantle. It was cast in epoxy resin. She
brought it down hard.
Fred
looked at his wife of thirty years.
He
smiled.
Atta
girl, Ro.
Thanks.
With your shoulder like it is, I just figured.
Normally,
I would’ve given him what for, like I did that Amway guy. Remember Ro?
Yes
I do dear. What should we do with this one?
Fred
thought for a moment.
Vinegar.
It tenderizes.
Rosemary
crinkled her nose.
Oh
my. I hate that smell.
Fred
kissed her cheek.
I
know, Ro. But it works.