The Evil That Men Do Read Online Free Page A

it. You’re just mad at him and the police in general, for writing you up with tickets, which I hasten to remind you wouldn’t happen if you didn’t break the limit every darn day.”
    “Gee, thanks, Bertie,” Riley said, “tell your cop boyfriend I’ll try and keep it below a hundred or so in the future.” Roberta threw her hands up in mock horror, and turned toward the wood and glass door bearing the legend R3 Recovery—R., R., & R. Vaughan, Proprietors. Through the glass, both sisters could see their third sister behind the office desk. Ricki Vaughan stared frostily through the door at them while cradling a telephone against one ear and holding two separate pieces of paper in her hands. She did not look like she had had a good morning.
    Riley and Roberta entered the office, sending the bell over the door jingling.

 
    Chapter Four
    Ricki
     
    Ricki’s morning had not been anywhere near as exciting as either of her sisters, but if she was asked her opinion on the matter, it had been far more stressful than both Roberta’s and Riley’s combined.
    The air conditioner gave out within fifteen minutes of being started up at eight in the morning when she arrived, and she was now reduced to the ignominy of employing a desk fan in a vain attempt to combat that unrelenting Savannah mid-summer heat. The hot air that was pushed over her skin felt only cooled by a degree and at most two, which made the torture of catching up on the paperwork that all of the Vaughan sisters had ignored for some weeks all the more arduous. In addition to this, Ricki had to cover her own secretarial and telephone answering services in Riley’s absence. Her youngest sister at twenty-two didn’t have Ricki’s experience in running the business, so when she wasn’t out chasing down vehicle repossessions, which was most of the time lately, Ricki press-ganged her into doing the menial office tasks.
    How had they allowed it to get so bad? There were multiple invoices to pay, and dozens of letters to reply to, including several important looking ones bearing the seal of the local courthouse—no doubt regarding the bail bondsman license for R3 Recovery that was up for renewal. Ricki shuffled the most official looking letters to the bottom of the pile and attacked instead the letters bearing a handwritten address. In her experience, such missives were invariably pleas for assistance when the local police refused to help. This wasn’t to dismiss the validity of some of the cases, and it was true that one of R3’s biggest cases of the last three years (the recovery of the deeds to over a dozen condominiums that had been swindled) had been as a result of one of these unsolicited begging letters, but that was a rarity. The vast majority of the letters were pointless. Find my lost cat, my husband ran off with my jewels—value: fifty dollars. Still, even answering these non-starters was better than tackling the serious letters at the bottom of the pile. She knew it was irresponsible, and she likewise knew that eventually that she would have to deal with them; just not yet. It was far too hot, and her patience was far too short.
    Ricki discarded her neckerchief at ten in the morning, and at eleven kicked off her shoes. Her stockings went at midday, fifteen minutes before Roberta and Riley had arrived. Despite growing up in Savannah, none of the three Vaughan sisters were particularly good at coping with the heat, almost in defiance of their mother who had blamed her daughter’s sun-shyness on their daddy’s white man’s blood. Their father had always agreed happily with his wife, but he was as comfortable in the blazing Savannah sun as she was. Ricki had no particular theory on the reason why, she just knew that she hated being stuck inside, with no air-con, while Roberta was off being an all action hero and Riley; well, where the hell was Riley? She had been due to be in to help with this horrendous mess of paperwork at nine. Ricki was cursing her