She kept turning, and her blood slowed to molasses. The following page’s text had been replaced by the engraving, but on a different skill. Where before it had focused on the head and torso, now the image pulled back to show a mad crowd surrounding the body. She put her hand to her mouth, unable to look away from the crowded scene.

“Something he said,” Chau wondered aloud. “Maybe his tone. I just had this feeling. Let him track us, find out more about us. Who’d believe him if he tried to say that we lived for thousands of years or that we incorporated at a certain time? He will look stupid if he opens his mouth. And people like him rarely follow through on their threats.”

“You really should’ve been a schoolteacher,” Edana muttered. The room became silent again and Chau picked up the threads of dinner; the good food of the Pharaoh’s Table wore off and they became extremely hungry once more. Chau looked at the History sitting on the dining room table and idly wondered why it hadn’t fully turned back to green as of yet.

Chau hung the phone back on its base. “He says he expects to receive no more mailings. And that was all.”

Edana began to pace them, fretting. “This is terrible. You realize what a lawyer would find? Or if he hired a detective? They could uncover how long we’ve been operating–when we incorporated, and how long our names have been involved! We’d have to move again and start over from scratch this time!” There was fear in her eyes. Leaving Europe had nearly killed her. They’d left with nothing and arrived to nothing. She’d resisted even the smallest of moves since then, and cross-country was out of the question.

“I think we should put him back on the list.”

“Madam,” he said once, and then went silent.

“If you choose to pursue litigation –” Chau resumed.

“I expect to receive no more mailings.” Martin Steele said, shortly, “good day.”

And though he hung up immediately Chau knew — just knew — that it would not be the last time they would speak again.

“//Mr. Steeple!// We are calling to //clear up// misunderstandings, not create them!” Edana skittered back, blinking at the transformed Chau. //She should have been a teacher…// “Are you ready to speak to us like a rational person, or shall we call back tomorrow?”

“Mr. Steeple,” Edana tried again, “This was an honest misunderstanding. We never even intended to write you.”

“Lying? No, sir, we cannot let you speak to Greenwood!”

Edana sighed, holding the phone next to her as Martin Steeple’s very agitated voice scratched through the speakers.

“You talk to him,” Edana whispered, handing the phone over to Chau, “I don’t think I can do it.”

“We’re calling on behalf of Greenwood and Sons for Mr. Steeple,” Chau said, trying to sound like a professional of some sort. “Is he available?”

“I’m Mr. Steeple.”

“Mr. Steeple, we’ve just received your letter, and we are //so sorry–//we never meant to, er,”

“Remove you from our lists!” Edana said quickly.

“Never meant to remove you from our list! What? I’m sorry, we DID intend to, it was just a mistake–”

“I still don’t get it!” Edana said. “How did the man get another letter?”

“We can only hope,” Chau said, in between dialing numbers, “that he understands that whatever happened, it was a misunderstanding. We never intended to contact him.”

“He won’t believe us,” Edana said. “We’re too convenient.”

“And he’s too pompous.” Chau held the phone at an arm’s length. The ring blared through the old phone they hadn’t the heart (or enthusiasm) to replace. “A double threat.”

I HAVE RECEIVED YET ANOTHER OF YOUR REPULSIVE MISSIVES. ITS ARRIVAL DISRUPTED MY GRANDDAUGHTER’S SLEEP; SHE IS A VERY ILL CHILD, WITH COLIC. I CANNOT STAND BY WHILE YOU PLAGUE MY HOUSEHOLD AND HOLDINGS WITH NONSENSE OF SUCH AN INSULTING NATURE.

AS YOU HAVE IGNORED MY PREVIOUS LETTER, I HAVE NOW CONTACTED MY NEPHEW, A PROMINENT LAWYER IN LOS ANGELES. HE WILL BE SERVING YOU WITH COURT PAPERS FORTHWITH.

SINCERELY,
MARTIN STEEPLE//