Soldier at the Door(69)

“Isn’t it wonderful? They’re going to consider my proposal! ‘We will look into your issue and respond as we see fit’.”

He folded the letter again and handed it back to her. “And you’re responding precisely in the manner they want you to: believing they really care. This is form letter number one, Mahrree. I’m sorry. A senior letter skimmer read your message, and a junior letter skimmer filled out this reply. If you look at the style of handwriting for your name, then the body of the response, you’ll see that they don’t match. They have stacks of these letters, waiting for the names to be filled in.”

“Oh,” was all she quietly said, and Perrin felt a stab of regret for her disappointment. But it was safer this way, it really was.

It took her only a moment to recover. “I’m going to send another letter,” she decided. “Telling them all about After School Care, and how other villages could benefit by having homes set up for children to have a place to go when their parents are still working.”

Perrin shrugged. “Maybe you’ll get form letter number two to add to the collection.”

“Your faith in me is overwhelming,” she said, her voice heavy with discouragement.

He put his arms around her. “We still have plenty of time. And Mahrree, honestly I feel much safer with your failures than your successes.”

He didn’t add, because I suspect you may be the most dangerous woman in the world.



---



Barker was waiting that night. He watched the movements along the alley with drooling expectancy until finally the man in the black jacket appeared with the bacon. Barker leapt to his feet and trotted happily to the fence.

“Well done, well done,” the man whispered, giving Barker the bacons strips. “Tonight, something new,” he said as he scratched the dog’s head. He patted his chest. “Up, up, up.”

Barker hesitated, remembering how often he received a knee in his chest for jumping up on the captain and his wife.

Another slice of bacon appeared, held up high by the man.

There was only one way for Barker to get it. He slowly reared up on his hind legs and reached over the fence, his big front paws landing on the man’s chest.

“Up, up, up. Well done, well done.”



---



Two men sat in a dark room of an unlit building.

“Mrs. Shin must have fired this one off the day after she received form letter number one,” Brisack chuckled as he waved the parchment. “Had a taste of ‘success,’ so she wants more?”

“Perhaps,” Mal tipped his head. “Or maybe she was told by the captain that she didn’t get a personalized response.”

“Maybe,” Brisack said, reading the letter again. “Or maybe her husband doesn’t even know she’s sending letters.”

“You think she’s acting secretly?” Mal made a face, obviously never before entertaining the thought.

“A woman acting behind her husband’s back? What an unusual development!” Brisack barked a laugh.

Mal’s expression remained unchanged.

“I know you never married,” Brisack smirked, “but did you ever have a sister?”

“No.”

“Mother?”

“Died when I was four.”

“Aunt? Cousin? Grandmother?”

“No.”

“Girlfriend?!”

“Once. She was too silly.”

“I see,” Brisack nodded slowly. “That explains your complete lack of knowledge of women. All these years you’ve assumed they are merely watered-down, washed-out versions of men, haven’t you?”

“Are you trying to make a point, Doctor?” Mal clasped his hands impatiently.

“Yes,” Brisack couldn’t help but chuckle, “but not one I think you’ll ever understand!”

Mal glared. “So you’re suggesting that perhaps Mrs. Shin is sending letters without her husband’s knowledge.”

“It’s a possibility,” Brisack acknowledged. “She may think someone’s taking her suggestion seriously.”

“And that’s the wonderful irony, isn’t it?” Mal’s lips formed the slightest smile. “We are taking her seriously, just not in a way she expects.”

“Then again, maybe she does know it’s a form letter,” Brisack suggested. “Maybe the captain did see it and tell her. So maybe this is a test of her own. Oh, how wonderful! And to think, just a short time ago was getting bored with all of this. She’s making it interesting again.”

Mal blinked. “A test of her own?”

“I had a colleague once observe a group of children taunting a teacher,” Brisack smiled in recollection. “He was young and nervous and for a time he ignored their tossing small rocks at him. But after about half an hour, and several well-thrown pebbles, the teacher lost his composure and whipped three of the boys.”