In Over Her Head by Elsie Russell - Parnasse.com

of the Tuileries. After a brisk walk to the Arch of Triumph, she stopped
at Le Drugstore to buy a buzzer to shear her mat of hair. On her way
back, refreshed and pleasantly winded, she sat on the bench across
from the not so giant Sequoia planted in front of the American
Embassy. With her head resting on the back of the bench she could see
the entire tree stretch towards the pale white Parisian sun. Her mind
wandered through the needles and landed on a favorite memory, a
small grove of Ponderosa a short hike from her house that was summer
home to a colony of very aggressive humming birds that whirred and
dive bombed like tiny helicopters around her head. The forest there
was dark and thick, truly virgin. Even bears avoided it because it was so
dense. From up in the branches, a Great Northern owl stared down at
her from the branches and in bold curiosity followed her to the edge of
the clear cut and the logging road.
The moment Penny walked in she knew. The place had been
thoroughly cleaned. The blood on the carpet was gone. His stuff was
gone. The painting was gone. No note, nothing. She sat down on the
edge of the bed and died.
Next day, right after breakfast, the phone rang. Penny always
kept it by her side now.
Her boss, his voice flinty and flat. "We need you at Dick's. Ira is
coming, he has to meet you. How is the music? Don't answer now, I
will see you in two hours, bring a disk."
"Sure, okay."
"Wear the Sander, see that the nails are clipped and clean, ciao."
The date for her grant review! She'd forgotten all about that,
too.
She clipped and cleaned her nails as ordered, of course, they
were ragged and dirty. She zapped off her mop of orange wool, leaving
the coil over her eyebrow, and slipped on the Nazi nun suit, with the
slacks because skirts made her look like a schoolgirl.
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