High Rhymes and Misdemeanors

by Diana Killian

When she woke up all hell was breaking loose.

  The room was in complete darkness. Glass was breaking, furniture smashing. At first Grace thought it was an earthquake. She sat bolt upright. She realized she was in a strange room.

  Then she picked out the human sounds from the rest of the racket: grunting, hard breathing, the frightening sounds of fists on flesh. About the same instant she remembered where she was, she realized Peter was no longer in bed.

  Grace reached for the lamp, but the unfamiliar draperies and bedclothes got in the way.

  Shadows moved past the window: two men struggling.

  Grace pawed her way through the bed hangings and found the lamp as another huge crash came from across the room. The harp struck a discordant note.

  Peter swore.

  At last Grace found the lamp switch.

  Gloomy light illuminated the long room. Peter was picking himself up out of a pile of broken Hepplewhite. An arras swung gently against the wall.

  Otherwise the room was quite empty.

  Chapter Nine