‘Bullets?’ ‘Extra.’ ‘Sheez, you can’t even buy a gun with bullets these days. And this?’ He asked inspecting the Beretta. ‘One fifty....�� Ray looked at him incredulously. ‘That’s day light robbery.’ ‘Take it or leave it.’ ‘With a box of ammo?’ ‘Three hundred only, we’re friends.’ Ray chuckled and put three bills on the sink. ‘No, we’re not.’ He picked up the box of ammunition and walked out of the house. ‘Thanks, see you around.’ Mike said to no-one in particular as he opened a beer for. Kathy groaned to herself, “Why me?!?” She looked to see if either of the other salesgirls were free, but no such luck, they were both still showing shoes to the two ladies still seated in the try on chairs. Kathy moved towards the fiftyish lady who was by now looking at a display of high healed evening shoes and asked, “May I help you ma’am?” “Yes,” she replied, “I’m looking for a pair of black patent leather pumps, something like these,. She undid the zipper at her side and let it fall to the ground. She lifted it up with her foot and tossed it in next to her bra. Then she let her thumbs slip into her panties and pushed them down till they fell to her ankles. She didn't show any signs of modesty as she stood there before most of the school, nude. She took a make up pallet out of the locker and for a prolonged time stood making herself up just so. She stopped just short of a job a street walker would be proud of, smiled to. The first was an antique leather-bound journal with a worn strap holding its covers shut, the second was a heavy envelope with my name, Melissa Gordon, written on it in neat (if old-fashioned) cursive hand. The letter inside was typed on expensive heavy-weight paper that had the company watermark in the center of the page. The letter explained that the law firm had been retained by a small, independent museum to find and return the accompanying diary to the nearest living heir of the doner..
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