“May I help you?”

      The face that inquired from behind the screen door was gentle and weathered. Her white hair pulled into a bun, she wore a delicate floral print dress. As Haley sized the woman up, she was glad to have been born into an age where girls could wear jeans and shorts and cut off shirts.

     “Are you Mrs. McGrath?” Haley asked. The old woman eyed her suspiciously.  “We got your name from Mrs. Simpson,” Haley continued, pointing to the neighbor’s house. The mailbox out front conveniently listed their name. “My friend and I are selling magazine subscriptions.”

     “Oh, dear.” The old woman lifted a hand to her cheek.

      “It’s for a good cause.” Haley cut her off before her she could object further. “My friend Annie and I,” pointing to the lanky dark haired girl next to her, “are trying to raise money so we can go to church camp. Our parents can’t afford it.” She looked to the ground in embarrassment. That move was always good for a little sympathy from even the coldest heart.

     “I suppose I could see what you’ve got,” the woman offered.

     “Great!” both girls chimed in.

     Mrs. McGrath opened the door and motioned them in. “It’s awfully humid out. Would you girls like some lemonade?”

     They gratefully accepted.  Mrs. McGrath poured them both huge glasses with a bit of ice and set them a place at the small kitchen table. Annie gulped down the beverage.

     “May I use the washroom?” she asked. Annie always used the john as an excuse. Once out of site, she would scout the various rooms for valuables. They would have to move quickly once they killed the old woman and it never hurt to know what you were looking for in advance.  The pair learned that lesson the first time it happened. Although Mrs. Johnson’s heart attack was natural, stealing valuables from a dead woman would have been frowned upon by the local law enforcement. The girls had spent so much time looking for the old lady’s hiding places that they were almost caught by a neighbor dropping by for his daily check in.

     “Do you have Collector’s Monthly? I do like that magazine a lot.”

     “Huh? Oh. Yes. This list is just a sampling of the issues we offer. If it’s not on the list, we can get it for you.” Haley handed Mrs. McGrath the professional looking order sheet that Annie and she had put together on her word processing program. The logo they added gave the document an official touch.

     The heat was beginning to make Haley sleepy; her eyes began to droop.  She wondered what was taking Annie so long. The old woman might begin to get suspicious. Haley glanced at her and noticed that Mrs. McGrath had been staring. Haley shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

     “Forgive me, my dear. You remind me of my daughter.”

     Haley forced an interested, alert look on her drowsy face.  “How old is your daughter?”

     “She would have been forty-two years old today.”

     “Would have been?” It took a moment to register. “I’m sorry.”

     “Oh, don’t be. She’s never far from me. When she died she was just about your age.”

     Haley craned her neck to look down the hallway.

     “I think I should go get my friend. She may have gotten lost.” She forced a smile and tried to stand. Her legs buckled under her weight and she landed heavily back down on the chair.

     “Oh, I’m sure she’s fine. She’s probably talking to Margaret and her friends.”

     A sick feeling took hold of Haley’s stomach as she asked, “Who’s Margaret?”

     “My daughter, of course. I keep her right in the bathtub where she drowned.”

     The room began to spin and Haley clutched the edge of the table.

     “Every once and a while I try to find her a new friend. It’s pretty lonely in the water when you don’t have anyone to play with.”

     Haley lost the battle to keep her eyes open as she slid onto the cool tile floor. The last thing she heard was Mrs. McGrath going on about the good fortune of finding Margaret two such lovely friends this year.