Not a Chance in Helen Read Online Free

written him a check or two just to keep him out of her hair, but she was tired of bailing him out.
    “He wouldn’t leave, ma’am, not even when I mentioned your being out like a light. I gave him a cup of coffee in the kitchen. He insists on speaking to you, Miss Nora.”
    “I’m sure he does,” she said and gingerly swung her legs over the edge of the couch. She brushed at the wrinkled linen of her slacks, not even glancing up at Zelma as she announced, “Tell him the bank is closed.”
    “The bank is closed?” Zelma repeated.
    “If he wants a penny more, he’ll have to wait till I’m gone.”
    Zelma looked confused but uttered, “Yes, ma’am.” Then she disappeared from the library once more.
    All the comings and goings apparently disturbed Lady Godiva, for the cat let out an unhappy-sounding mew. Eleanora pushed up and onto her feet. She went over to where the Persian sat poised like a lion atop the Louis XV seat, and she stroked the soft head, watching round eyes blink lovingly then close altogether. She listened as the cat rumbled with pleasure.
    Ah, Lady. When Eleanora had lost Marvin, and then Jim so soon thereafter, she’d had a hole in her heart big enough to fit a cannonball. Lady had been her saving grace. Without her precious baby to fuss over and spoil, Eleanora would have come apart at the seams. Lady’s presence made her feel somehow at peace. Zelma claimed she went overboard on the feline, but Eleanora disagreed. Lady demanded only her affection, which was a lot less than most people.
    “Miss Nora?”
    Dear God. What now? Would she never have five minutes to herself?
    “What?” Eleanora ceased petting the cat and straightened up with a sigh.
    Even Lady turned her pale eyes on Zelma and hissed.
    The housekeeper hung back in the doorway. “It’s Floyd Baskin, ma’am. He said he heard you’d nearly been run over.”
    “And he wanted to see if I was on my deathbed, just like the rest,” Eleanora remarked rather snippily.
    “I gave him a cup of coffee, ma’am.”
    “Well, take it back and send him off!”
    Zelma bobbed her head, the tufts of faded brown hardly hiding her scalp. The light reflected off her glasses so that for a moment she looked eerily like a blank-eyed Orphan Annie. Then, without another word, she did an about-face and disappeared.
    Eleanora braced a hand on the arm of the chair, trying to steady herself, wondering who could possibly be next; perhaps an agent from the IRS come to audit her?
    First there was Jean, then Jemima and Stanley, and now Floyd Baskin. Was there a national holiday regarding mortal enemies dropping in that Eleanora didn’t know about?
    She shuffled over to the desk and settled into Marvin’s old chair again, leaning her head back against the soft leather.
    Floyd Baskin ran a group called Save the River which, upon its inception, had quietly worked to clean up the more-than-muddy Mississippi. In those days, half a dozen years before, Baskin had seemed a dedicated and idealistic fellow, and Marvin had contributed often and generously to the cause. Even in death, Marvin had provided an annual stipend to Save the River. But Eleanora knew that if Marvin had lived, he wouldn’t have wanted to give Baskin another dime.
    The man had turned radical. He broke into the power plants that operated along the river and set off smoke bombs. He spray-painted threatening graffiti on walls and left dead fish on doormats.
    No, Eleanora mused, clasping her hands on the desktop. Marvin would hardly support Baskin’s newfound terroristic tactics, and she was going to do everything she could to cut him off. She had her lawyers working on it now, and Baskin knew it. Even his constant begging, desperate letters, and frantic telephone calls wouldn’t work, not if Eleanora had anything to say about it.
    “Miss Nora?”
    “For God’s sake!” She shook off her thoughts and glared at Zelma, who shrank perceptibly beneath her stare. “What is it this time? Not another