Chapter Forty — One: Bag Nanny Anonymous

17 May
Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Did you notice my daughter's picture? Yep, she is here.

Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.

 

 

“Where would you like me to drop you?” asked Tulkhorn. He sat behind the wheel, somehow giving the impression he was guiding a tank through enemy territory rather than driving a car through town.
For some reason it was a question L C had not anticipated. Her only concern had been getting out of jail. For some strange reason she thought that once she was released from the nightmare she had been subjected to everything would go back to normal.
Now she realized. Released. Standing in front of the courthouse. Tulkhorn holding the door of his modest car open for her.
Nothing would ever be normal again.
Tulkhorn confirmed what she was thinking by saying, in as gentle a voice as it could be said in, “You can’t go back to — the Langlins. Not while you are accused — of wrongdoing. — You understand.”

“Yes.” She nodded.

“How about your parents?”

“No. My stepfather.”

Tulkhorn nodded understandingly. He waited. A man used to applying infinite patience to a multitude of problems that yielded to his implacable will. “I know of some reasonably priced apartments — that rent by the month. Not in the best part of town — but they are clean and — no one asks a lot of questions.”
L C had the feeling Tulkhorn had more than a passing acquaintance with those apartments. Visions of Perry Mason hiding clients in seedy hotels sprang to her mind.

“Okay.” She agreed.

She did not want to talk to her mother, or anyone else in her family just yet. In the morning she would get Rocko from Aunt Emerald. When L C was little she would pretend to be Dorothy in the wizard of Oz and would call Aunt Emerald, “Aunty Em.”
Maybe that was where L C developed a fondness for small dogs. It’s a wonder she had not named him Toto rather than Rocko.
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