“You’ll do no such thing, Sheila. Tell Bess to slip out, and I'll put on her cloak and hood. She could feel her face turning beet red. Anything else that was said she now regarded only as an aspect of or diversion from that. No amount of scrubbing could remove the stains, the blood of an unknown man she had stolen from the scene of a car accident, a stupid drunk with no license who had wrapped his Chevy truck around a very large oak tree. Lucy asked Michelle if “Pfister” kept the bras and panties of misfits for their trophy value, or perhaps sold them on the black market to perverted old men. ‘My dear boy, your loyalty is misplaced. You ignore me! That’s not a good way to treat your only friend. ‘But you said—’ Gerald tutted.
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