Blood of Others Read Free

would take her by the bridal boutique and its
enchanting storefront brides displaying the prettiest gowns. Surely that would
revive her belief that dreams can come true. That maybe, just maybe, she
would find somebody to love and live happily, Forever & Ever….
    The yelp of a siren was the first
indication something was wrong. She saw the revolving red lights, police cars,
TV news crews, a huge tarpaulin covering the display window. Emergency radios
chattering, police directing downtown workers to walk around the scene.
    One man shouted: “Yo, Officer, I
hear somebody got herself killed in there. Whatsup, man?”
    “Move it along, please. Move it
along.”
    Killed? Olivia cast a
worried look in the direction of the shop. A woman dead in Forever &
Ever? A firm hand touched her shoulder. “Miss, please keep moving.”
     
    Olivia hurried to Caselli’s. The
tiny gift shop was shoehorned between a grand café and large boutique on Maiden
Lane.
    Her keys jingled as she unlocked
the front door. The transom bells rang loudly as she went to the back, switched
off the alarm, put her lunch in the small refrigerator, hung up her jacket, and
went through her morning opening routine.
    She prepared the cash register,
checked the credit and debit card machines, phone messages, mail, the fax
machine, the computer, and the store’s Web site for e-mailed orders.
    Before he died, Mr. Caselli set
up an automated on-line service to provide quick delivery of small gifts,
flowers, and cards for busy downtown customers at risk of forgetting important
occasions. Caselli’s Internet service and the walk-in lunch-hour traffic kept
the gift shop afloat. The store had a vast selection of greeting cards --
announcements, birthday, graduation, showers, wedding, anniversary, get-well,
forgiveness, sympathy, congratulations, all the big days, Valentine’s, Mother’s,
Father’s, and many others.
    Over the years Olivia had helped
customers mark milestones in their lives. It was funny that in the region many
regarded as the world capital of cyberspace, many people still gave traditional
greeting cards.
    The lunchtime rush was winding
down when the doorbells jingled and an older heavyset woman, white hair in a
high, tight bun, toddled in. Seventy-one-year-old Mrs. Caselli. As always, she
was there to relieve Olivia for lunch.
    “How is it today?” Even though
she had come to America as a young girl, Mrs. Caselli had not lost her accent
entirely.
    Olivia checked the day’s list on
the store’s computer. “Busy. Thirty-two orders dispatched.”
    Mrs. Caselli placed a hand
against her face, stared into the street. “Isn’t it just horrible about the
bride store? The TV news is saying a woman was murdered.”
    “Yes. It’s awful. The customers
were talking about it.”
    “Such a horrible thing in my
beautiful city. I’m going to pray.”
    “Don’t worry.”
    “You’re not frightened, Olivia?
It’s so close.”
    “I guess. I don’t know. A lot of
other things frighten me. I’d like to know more about her, about what
happened.”
    “Maybe you should close early
today. Make me feel a little better. One hour earlier, please?”
    “Sure. But don’t worry.” Olivia
patted Mrs. Caselli’s hand, then finished on the computer and got ready.
    The older woman smiled, noticing
Olivia’s outfit. A cream-colored gabardine straight skirt with slash pockets, a
navy knit print top with elaborate designs and a scoop neck.
    “Nice clothes. Are they new?”
    “A weekend sale at JC Penney.”
Olivia grabbed her lunch and jacket from the back room. “See you in an hour.”
    Olivia headed to Union Square,
missing how the old woman used to optimistically ask if she was “meeting
somebody” for lunch. But Mrs. Caselli’s motherly concern about her marital
status had faded when Mr. Caselli died. Unlike his wife, the old guy had been
blunt. His big eyes had crinkled at the corners when he talked to Olivia about
her not having any boyfriends.
    “Life is