Shakespeare's Trollop by Charlaine Harris

can go to the community relief fund. SCC doesn’t keep anything but clothes.” The town of Shakespeare kept a few rooms at the old community center filled with odds and ends cleaned out from people’s cabinets and attics: pots and pans, dishes, sheets, blankets, utensils. The purpose of this accumulation was to re-equip families who had met with a disaster. In our part of the country, “disasters” generally translate as fires or tornadoes.
    Again Lacey stood in silence for a few long moments.
    â€œWhere would you like me to begin?” I said as gently as I could.
    â€œHer clothes, please. That would be hardest for me.” And Lacey turned and went into the kitchen with one of the boxes.
    I admired her courage.
    I got a box of my own, reassembled it, and went into the larger bedroom.
    Everything had been searched, of course. I guess the police always hope to find a piece of paper with Am meeting Joe Doe at 8:00. If evil befalls me, he is the guilty one written on it. But I was pretty sure no one had found such a note, and I didn’t find it either, though I conscientiously checked the pockets of each garment and the inside of every shoe as I packed boxes.
    When I was sure Lacey was busy in the kitchen, I reached under Deedra’s bed and slid out a box she’d stuffed under there. I’d only cleared under the bed a couple of times before, when Deedra (actually Lacey) had paid for a spring-cleaning. Then, Deedra had had plenty of warning to conceal this carved wooden box with its tight-fitting lid. I lifted it a little to look inside. After a long, comprehensive stare at the contents I slammed it shut and wondered where I could hide it from Lacey.
    It had been years since I’d thought of myself as naive. But I discovered that not only could I still be shocked, but also I could say that whole areas of my life were unsophisticated.
    I peeked again.
    A couple of the sex toys in the box were easily identifiable, even to someone like me who’d never seen the like. But one or two baffled me. I knew their function was something I’d puzzle over in odd moments for some time to come, and the idea didn’t make me happy. As I pushed the box back under the edge of the bedspread till I could think of a way to get it out of the apartment surreptitiously, I found myself wondering if Jack had ever used such items. I was embarrassed at the thought of asking him, to my astonishment. I hadn’t realized there was anything we could say or do between us that would be embarrassing. Interesting.
    I glanced out into the hall before I slipped into the guest bedroom. I opened the drawer the sheriff had designated, and discovered it was full of odds and ends like handcuffs, stained silk scarves, heavy cord…and movies.
    â€œOh, man,” I muttered as the titles registered. I could feel my face grow hot with shame. How could she have made herself so vulnerable? How could she have put herself at someone’s mercy this way? It seemed to me that only a woman who’d never experienced sexual violence would think the imitation of it a turn-on. Maybe I was being naive about that, too, I thought gloomily.
    I stuffed all the paraphernalia into a garbage bag, and deposited it under the bed with the carved box. Then I started packing clothes swiftly to make up for the lost time.
    I resumed my task by opening the top drawer of Deedra’s lingerie chest. I wondered how pleased the women’s group at Shakespeare Combined Church would be to get some of Deedra’s exotic play clothes. Would the deserving poor be thrilled with a leopard-print thong and matching baby-doll nightie?
    Soon I moved to the chest of drawers and more mundane items. As I folded everything neatly, I tried to keep all the categories together: slacks, spring dresses, T-shirts, shorts. I assumed Deedra had moved her out-of-season clothes to the closet of the second bedroom. That was where the jackets would be.
    I was