Sellevision - Augusten Burroughs [52]
Then at the bottom of the silverware basket, she saw something strange and dangerous: a pocket knife, opened. Her oldest boy’s pocketknife. Carefully removing the knife from the basket, she folded the blade back into the handle. Kids.
“Sweetheart,” she said, leaning her head into Ricky’s doorway.
“What?” he answered, not looking up from the computer.
She walked over to his desk and set the knife down next to his keyboard. “I found this in the dishwasher.”
He glanced at the knife, then back to the computer. “I put it there. It got dirty.”
“Dirty?” she said.
He looked up at her. “Yeah, remember we had to carve Virgin Marys for bible study? It got pine sap all over it.”
Peggy Jean was charmed by the mere thought of such a thing. “I’d love to see your Virgin Mary.”
“It’s not done yet.”
Peggy Jean noticed a wad of Silly Putty on the desk and picked it up. “You know, I used to love Silly Putty, too. Some things never change. Although mine wasn’t this ugly gray color, it was fleshtone.”
“It’s not Silly Putty, it’s plastic explosive,” he told her, tapping on the keyboard.
“Don’t even joke about such a thing,” she said, placing the Silly Putty back on the desk. “Did you enjoy the sermon today?”
“Very much.”
“Yes, I did thoo.”
He looked at her, puzzled.
“Too, I mean, I did too. Goodness, sometimes these pills the doctor prescribed for my health make my speech a little futhy—err, fuzzy.”
He continued to stare at her.
She started to lean in and give his head a little kiss, but then stopped herself. She’d pestered him enough while he was busy with his school work.
On the way down the stairs, she almost tripped. Then she thought maybe she had better have a little something to even her out, just sort of cut the Valium. Maybe a small glass of something. Because she didn’t want to take a chance that she might slur that evening on air.
“H
oward, do you have a moment?”
“Of course, Trish. Please, come in and make yourself comfortable.”
Trish took a seat on the sofa and Howard came around from behind his desk and sat in the chair directly across from her, crossed his legs, and smiled. “What’s on your mind?”
Trish clasped her hands and placed them on her lap. “I feel a little awkward. I mean it’s really not my business, but I’m just a little concerned.”
“What’s the matter, Trish? Please speak freely. I promise you nothing you say will leave this room.”
“Thanks, Howard, I really appreciate that. Like I said, I’m a little uncomfortable mentioning this, but she’s my friend—as well as my cohost—so I feel like I have to say something.”
Howard uncrossed his legs and leaned slightly forward.
“It’s Peggy Jean. I’m a little worried about her.”
A look of surprise crossed Howard’s face. “Peggy Jean? Why?”
“Well, that’s just it, I don’t know exactly. But something doesn’t seem right—she seems a little off, you know? Maybe it’s just me, maybe I’m too close to her, but I’ve noticed the last couple times she’s been on air, she seems almost nervous, a little . . . choppy.”
Peggy Jean, nervous? Choppy? It seemed an impossible notion. Peggy Jean had been with Sellevision for ten years. Next to Bebe, she was the most senior host. If anything, Peggy Jean could be a little too polished. But he had to admit, he didn’t have a close, personal relationship with her. And he hadn’t seen her on air recently.
“Last night when she was on, she was slurring.”
“Slurring?” he repeated, his voice lower.
“And she had a problem with the ruler, finding the right end of it to measure a necklace.”
“Go on.”
“Well, I’ve noticed that she takes a lot of pills. She says they’re vitamins, but I don’t know.”
Howard developed a twitch near his eye. “Is this about the rat? Or is there something going on in her personal life? Is her marriage okay? Her kids?”
“As far as I know, everything’s fine in her personal life. But the rat is just the latest thing. She’s been getting some creepy letters from somebody—she feels that she’s being stalked.”
This