Even Lucy’s bra and panties, the ubiquitous polyester underwire and matching cotton bikini briefs from Kmart, were gone. “You have a boyfriend! That’s fine by me, it’s your business, but you’d better stop sneaking around because Sheila’s got eyes in the back of her head!” He heard Sheila utter a loud percussive blast of a snore from the master bedroom. Dump popped his head into the cage. She cut a deep gash into her own arm with a steel screw, loosing drops of her own blood onto the floorboards. “You be off, missie,” said the fatherly policeman.
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