For Every Evil by Ellen Hart

neither the time nor the inclination to explain it to you. Have a good day, Mr. Jacobi.” He dropped the receiver back on the hook. The nerve of some people. He tore up the letter he’d been working on and tossed it into the wastebasket.
     
    Again, the phone interrupted him. He could feel his temper rising. He had to get out. Take a walk. Do something besides sit and brood. Instead of answering it himself, he let the machine take it. No more morons were going to bother him today. He fiddled with the volume control to make sure he could hear the message. Then, switching off the computer, he stood and grabbed his coat, slipping it on while he listened. After a few seconds a young boy’s voice said, “‘For every evil under the sun, there is a remedy or there is none. If there be one, seek till you find it. If there be none, never mind it.’ “ The machine clicked off.
     
    Hale stood in the center of the room, unable to move. When Louie had recounted a similar incident the other night, he’d found it curious, but in all the commotion, he’d dismissed it as just a prank call. Annoying, but of no particular importance. But now, here it was again. Who was doing this? And more important, why?
     
    He slumped back into his chair, staring blankly at the top of the desk. Someone was trying to rattle him, that’s what it was. All in all, it was a puny effort. Having a child read the message was a suitably sinister touch, but it wasn’t going to work. Of course Hale knew he’d made his share of enemies over the years. An uncompromising critic always made enemies. And, to be fair, this wasn’t the first time someone had tried to pay him back for a bad review. It was just … this time, something seemed slightly off-kilter. Perhaps he’d antagonized a genuine weirdo. He wouldn’t be human if he didn’t admit to a certain fear of such things. Still, the bottom line was, the police had to be kept out of his business. Whatever was going on, he would handle it himself.
     
    Opening a small safe on the floor in back of his chair, he drew out the gun. He checked the clip. Good. It was loaded. He might as well carry it with him. Until this guy, whoever he was, got tired of playing his little game, it was better to be safe than sorry.
     
    Fifteen minutes later, Hale knocked on Betty Malmquist’s front door and waited for her to answer. He glanced down at the shopping bag he was holding, pleased that it was stuffed to overflowing with small, beautifully wrapped presents. He’d been collecting them for weeks. He couldn’t wait to see her face.
     
    “Hale!” she said, standing back and allowing him to enter. “This is a wonderful surprise! I didn’t expect to see you today.”
     
    He noticed right away that she was using her walker again. Her little dog, Arthur, scratched at his leg, wanting a pat on the head. Hale bent down and gave him a hearty scratch.
     
    “Come into the parlor,” she urged, shuffling slowly under the small arch. He recognized the dress she was wearing as her very best. Even though she rarely got out to go to church these days, Sundays were still special. Hale loved that about her. She reminded him so much of his grandmother.
     
    “I can only stay for a few minutes,” he said.
     
    “You’re not going to work?”
     
    “Not today.”
     
    She eased herself into a chair, patting the back of her white hair into place. Arthur leapt into her lap. “Can I offer you a sweet?” She nodded to a small bowl of lemon drops on the coffee table.
     
    “Sure.” He took several. “How’s Arthur feeling?”
     
    “Fine, thanks to you. I don’t know how I could have afforded his medical bills if you hadn’t offered to pay for them.”
     
    “We can’t have you losing your best friend.”
     
    She smiled, lowering her eyes. “I think I have two best friends. I’m a very rich woman.”
     
    He lifted the shopping bag onto the coffee table.
     
    “What’s that?” She stared at it