and said, "Had a^ very heavy demand today. Had to put it on another truck."
The courier seemed calm and controlled. But the woman had worked at that store for seven years, and the couriers bad never needed a second truck.
"Just a few minutes," she said, and went back to her office.
The armed courier looked at his watch and began to pace outside the cashier's office. A minute passed, then another. Even if the courier heard the call going out over the Sears public address system he probably wouldn't understand it.
"Eight hundred call for operator thirty-nine," the voice announced.
It was directed to the store security officer and meant trouble in the cashiers office.
The cashier would later say, "There was something about his face. It was not a common face."
Hiat uncommon face was suddenly damp with sweat. The courier looked at his watch once again.
"You can't go in there!" one of the cashiers yelled from the outer office as the courier suddenly vaulted the half wall and ran toward the inner office where the assistant head cashier awaited the arrival of the Sears security officer.
He slammed into another clerk knocking her to the floor as he burst into the office.
"I want my card!" he warned, stopping before the assistant head cashier. "I don't have to take this type of treatment! I'll just go back downstairs and send somebody else up! But I want my card\"
The frightened woman didn't get a chance to reply and perhaps couldn't have, as she gaped at that uncommon face. The courier snatched the card from her hand, turned and bolted out.
. During his escape, the courier pushed people out of the way and hurtled daringly down the moving steps of the escalator. The courier did not get the money. Not this time.
"The composite police drawing never got the eyes right," one of the witnesses later complained to police. "There was something about his eyes."
Things in the Upper Merion crucible had been simmering for three years and were bound to boil over.
The confrontation took place in the teachers' lounge. According to Sue Myers, she lost her temper and kicked Susan Reinert in the shin. According to Susan Reinert, it was a knee in the thigh coupled with a warning that sounded like "If you care for yourself and your kids you'd better leave Bill alone."
That afternoon a sobbing Susan Reinert called her therapist and said, "How do I handle something like this with Karen and Michael? I don't want to scare them, but I think they need to take necessary precautions. What do I tell them? Should I say to beware of any woman who comes up and tells them she knows Mommy from school? I really fear this woman!"
Susan Reinert had stopped seeing Roslyn Weinberger on an individual basis by then, but still telephoned and still attended group therapy. The group was not composed of the kind of people with whom Susan Reinert had shared her life. They were not Great Books advocates, nor English teachers, nor even college graduates necessarily. They were ordinary working folks, and they had lots of advice when Susan Reinert brought them her tale complete with contusions.
One of the group members asked, "How much more are you going to expose yourself to, Susan?"
"Well, I don't know," she answered. "You see she works with me and . . ."
^We're not talking about her" another one muttered.
"This guy means you no good," still another informed her.
"He's a manipulative son of a bitch!" yet another piped up.
"Whether he does or doesn't leave the other woman, you can do better than this bullshit!" still another pointed out.
"But I think you have the wrong idea," Susan Reinert squeaked. "You don't understand. He really does have lovely qualities. And he's been with her so long he just doesn't want to run out on her when she's so unstable and needy. He's just waiting for the proper time to get her out of his life!"
Sue Myers wasn't in such hot shape herself after the fight, not emotionally. It had all come to so little, this life with Bill
The courier seemed calm and controlled. But the woman had worked at that store for seven years, and the couriers bad never needed a second truck.
"Just a few minutes," she said, and went back to her office.
The armed courier looked at his watch and began to pace outside the cashier's office. A minute passed, then another. Even if the courier heard the call going out over the Sears public address system he probably wouldn't understand it.
"Eight hundred call for operator thirty-nine," the voice announced.
It was directed to the store security officer and meant trouble in the cashiers office.
The cashier would later say, "There was something about his face. It was not a common face."
Hiat uncommon face was suddenly damp with sweat. The courier looked at his watch once again.
"You can't go in there!" one of the cashiers yelled from the outer office as the courier suddenly vaulted the half wall and ran toward the inner office where the assistant head cashier awaited the arrival of the Sears security officer.
He slammed into another clerk knocking her to the floor as he burst into the office.
"I want my card!" he warned, stopping before the assistant head cashier. "I don't have to take this type of treatment! I'll just go back downstairs and send somebody else up! But I want my card\"
The frightened woman didn't get a chance to reply and perhaps couldn't have, as she gaped at that uncommon face. The courier snatched the card from her hand, turned and bolted out.
. During his escape, the courier pushed people out of the way and hurtled daringly down the moving steps of the escalator. The courier did not get the money. Not this time.
"The composite police drawing never got the eyes right," one of the witnesses later complained to police. "There was something about his eyes."
Things in the Upper Merion crucible had been simmering for three years and were bound to boil over.
The confrontation took place in the teachers' lounge. According to Sue Myers, she lost her temper and kicked Susan Reinert in the shin. According to Susan Reinert, it was a knee in the thigh coupled with a warning that sounded like "If you care for yourself and your kids you'd better leave Bill alone."
That afternoon a sobbing Susan Reinert called her therapist and said, "How do I handle something like this with Karen and Michael? I don't want to scare them, but I think they need to take necessary precautions. What do I tell them? Should I say to beware of any woman who comes up and tells them she knows Mommy from school? I really fear this woman!"
Susan Reinert had stopped seeing Roslyn Weinberger on an individual basis by then, but still telephoned and still attended group therapy. The group was not composed of the kind of people with whom Susan Reinert had shared her life. They were not Great Books advocates, nor English teachers, nor even college graduates necessarily. They were ordinary working folks, and they had lots of advice when Susan Reinert brought them her tale complete with contusions.
One of the group members asked, "How much more are you going to expose yourself to, Susan?"
"Well, I don't know," she answered. "You see she works with me and . . ."
^We're not talking about her" another one muttered.
"This guy means you no good," still another informed her.
"He's a manipulative son of a bitch!" yet another piped up.
"Whether he does or doesn't leave the other woman, you can do better than this bullshit!" still another pointed out.
"But I think you have the wrong idea," Susan Reinert squeaked. "You don't understand. He really does have lovely qualities. And he's been with her so long he just doesn't want to run out on her when she's so unstable and needy. He's just waiting for the proper time to get her out of his life!"
Sue Myers wasn't in such hot shape herself after the fight, not emotionally. It had all come to so little, this life with Bill
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