WHAT ARE FRIENDS FOR? By Renee Gardner Sabrina Conrad looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her makeup was perfect, her hair shone, her sapphire blue dress gently caressed her body. She pivoted around and faced herself once more. No, the effect wasn't quite right. Her fingers toyed with the buttons at her throat. She undid one, then another, exposing just a hint of cleavage. Finally pleased with herself, she flung a silver gray mohair stole over her shoulders and marched out of her apartment, ready to sail gracefully into her lover's office and announce that their affair was over. Her romance with Dr. Amos Beller began one rainy Sunday evening as they struck up a conversation while they waited on line to see the re-edited version of "Psycho" and discovered that they both loved old Hitchcock movies, sushi, sailing and classic jazz, and both were successful in their professions -- she a freelance writer; he a dermatologist. The only hitch in their relationship, which progressed from friendship to passion in breath-taking time, was that Amos's pending divorce made it impossible for them to be seen in public. So instead of going to fancy restaurants, they met every Tuesday in his office after his nurse and patients were gone, and spent the evening in the examining room partaking of take-out food and illicit romance. "It will only be a little while longer," Amos reassured Sabrina whenever she complained about their less than ideal arrangement and questioned if his divorce would ever take place. She hung on for six months, hoping for the best. Last week she became infuriated when Amos selfishly refused to change the time of today's rendevous to accommodate her schedule. It wasn't as though she had asked the impossible -- the office was closed for renovations, though work wouldn't begin until the next day, so they could have met at any time. "You know I can't see you earlier. I have to move all the furniture and dump old files before I leave for Barbados," Amos whined in answer to her request. And that's when Sabrina saw him for the selfish, egoist he really was and began to plan her final goodbye. The businesses in the suburban complex where Amos had his office all closed between 4:30 and 5:30, making the back parking lot conveniently deserted on Tuesday evenings when Sabrina nosed her car into a spot at six o'clock. Tonight Sabrina's car had company. Looming out of the autumn twilight like a brooding prehistoric creature, a large dark green dumpster took up the two parking places closest to the entrance to Amos's office. She pressed the bell beside the brass plaque that read "Amos Beller, M.D." and waited for him to open it like he always did. No Amos. She rang the bell harder, then dug through her handbag for the key he gave her when their romance was new. The caveat that came with it played in her head as she inserted it in the lock: "For you, my darling, I give the key to my heart and my office. Open my heart at will; the office only in case of emergency." The door opened easily. She felt her way along the narrow dark corridor that led past the now bare waiting room and the infamous examining room. The lack of light didn't surprise her. "Save the pennies and the dollars will take care of themselves," Amos said whenever he turned off an unnecessary light. She called his name as she approached his office. No answer. "Where are you, Amos?" Her voice now was taut with tension. "Amos?" she called a third time. Silence. "Are you hiding from me?" She flung open his office door, shouting her demand. A faint unpleasant odor floated over the dimly lit room. The couch, chairs and rug were clustered together in a corner. Four neat rows of dirt outlines on the bare walls gave testimony to where framed diplomas once hung. Bulging plastic trash bags confirmed Amos's diligent house cleaning. He sat at his Regency desk. Though his feral gray eyes where hidden behind the tinted glasses he always wore, Sabrina sensed he was staring at her. "Why didn't you open the door?" He didn't respond. "Answer me, damn you," she snapped, dropping any pretext of civility. Silence. "I said, 'Answer me'." He denied her the dignity of a reply. Overwhelmed by disgust for the man she thought she loved, Sabrina vomited up the litany of humiliations he had inflicted on her over the past half year -- a sordid affair, broken dates, broken promises -- the list seemed endless. As she paused to catch her breath, her eyes were drawn from his face to the silver letter opener that lay on the desk. It shimmered like a precious jewel under the halo of light cast by the small desk lamp. She grasped it tightly, raised it overhead -- and plunged it into her lover's heart. * * * Sabrina did not remember fleeing the scene. Back in the safety of her apartment, under the unblinking, watchful gaze of Simon, her golden tabby cat, she downed a large neat scotch in one thirsty gulp, then held the empty goblet up to the light as if viewing her future -- and shuddered. It wasn't the future that made her blood run cold. It was the five clear fingerprints pressed onto the smooth glass surface. "Oh, lord, no! My fingerprints all over Amos's office," She grabbed the telephone and punched in a number she knew by heart. After the ubiquitous answering machine message instructed her to leave her name and telephone. "You have to help me." Her plea to her best friend Faith Trainor came in spurts. "Something terrible has happened. Please call." Hours later as pellets of rain beat against Sabrina's windows, the phone rang. Faith's lush contralto voice greeted her. "What's up? Sorry I wasn't around for you, but I was at the gym." She spent hours every week toning her body at a popular singles gym. "Pick me up in five minutes. We'll go back and get rid of your fingerprints," was Faith's calm response after Sabrina described her affair with Amos Beller and this evening's awful course of events. A short time later, shrouded in long black raincoats, the two friends snuck back into Amos's office. While Sabrina hovered nervously beside her, Faith searched for a pulse in Amos's wrist. "He's dead," she announced calmly. "Wait in there while I get rid of your prints," Sabrina felt herself being pushed into the examining room. During what seemed like an endless wait, Sabrina paced back and forth in the small room, determined not to think about what Faith might be doing. When Faith finally did appear in the doorway, a smile flickered on her face. "Done," she said. "And if we put him in the dumpster that's out back, he won't be missed until after he's due back from Barbados. And by then he'll be buried in a land fill." "You're wonderful." Sabrina's deep sigh expressed gratitude for her friend's many kindnesses that stretched all the way back to their childhood when Faith automatically made extra copies of her homework in case Sabrina didn't do hers and covered for her when she stayed out beyond curfew. Instead of acknowledging Sabrina's thanks, Faith grabbed a rubber sheet and surgical tape from a shelf. "Let's use these to bag him up. Give me a hand." Sabrina wordlessly obeyed her friend's instructions to spread the sheet on the floor. As they attempted to swing his body onto it, a loud clunk shattered the tense silence. The women stared at each other. "What was that?" Faith demanded. "His gun." Sabrina nodded toward the small revolver pointed ominously toward her. "It fell from his leg holster. He always wore it. He was afraid of being robbed." "Well, put it back." Sabrina's hand trembled badly as she retrieved the weapon and tried to replace it in its holder without touching Amos's body. She had nearly succeeded when her hand grazed his leg. "I'm going to be sick," she whispered, fighting back a wave of nausea. "You poor thing." Faith sympathized. "Get some water." Sabrina stumbled through the dark office suite to the patients' lavatory and splashed her face with water until the nausea subsided. Upon her return to Amos's office, she saw a large flat mummy-like package in the middle of the floor. It lacked a tell-tale projecting bump. "What did you do with the letter opener?" she asked. "I put it in his pocket." Sabrina's eyes grew wide with horror as she visualized her friend wrenching the bloody murder weapon out of Amos's chest. "You touched him?" "Of course," Faith said casually. Now let's get going. I'll take his shoulders. You get the other end." Sabrina lifted her end without protest. The women cast eerie shadows on the bare walls as they carried their heavy package through the corridor. "Coast is clear," Faith announced after cautiously opening the back door. "How are we going to get him into that?" Sabrina warily eyed the waist-high dumpster. "Stand aside. I'll do it and cover his body with trash." So saying, Faith hoisted the heinous package into the trash hauler as easily as if she was lifting a baby. "How can I ever thank you?" Sabrina gushed as she pulled her car up in front of Faith's apartment building. "Not to worry." Faith blew her a kiss and ducked under the doorman's umbrella. * * * Two sleeping pills washed down with another large scotch sent Sabrina into a deep sleep that lasted until Simon's hungry meows woke her the next morning. "It's way past your breakfast time, you patient little darling." Sabrina affectionately rubbed the cat's velvet soft ears as she carried him on her shoulder into her tiny kitchen. While he lapped up his chicken and beef pat meal, she returned to the bedroom where she carefully searched everything she wore the previous day for incriminating blood stains. Though all appeared spotless, she felt something was amiss. She unconsciously wrapped her arms around herself as though to ward off a chill as she mentally visualized how she looked when she stood in front of the mirror. "Oh, no. Oh, no," she shouted. At the sound of her terrified voice, Simon bolted through the kitchen into her home office, flung all sixteen pounds of himself onto Sabrina's desk, then sprinted to the top shelf of the bookcase, settled on his hunches and reproachfully stared down at her. "My stole!" Sabrina wailed. The gorgeous silver gray mohair stole she had draped on her shoulders; the stole that Faith gave her last Christmas; the stole with the label 'Loomed Especially For Sabrina Conrad' was gone! She punched in Faith's telephone number. This time her friend answered on the second ring. "Hello," she said in a cheerful, wide-awake voice. "I did something terrible last night," Sabrina said, dispensing with a formal greeting. "I left my stole in Amos's office. What should we do?" "Not to worry. It's where I put it." "Oh, bless you. Where?" "In the dumpster with Amos. I found it beside his desk, so while you were out of the room I hid it under my raincoat." "Why did you do that?" Sabrina screeched. "So the police know you killed him -- that is in case they miss your fingerprints, which I doubt." Faith's laughter was shrill. Sabrina's grip tightened on the telephone phone. "But you wiped my prints off everything in his office and you said he'd never be found." "No, I wiped MY fingerprints off everything," Faith corrected. "Yours?" "Of course. I visited him ahead of you and shot him with his little cap pistol. It was on his desk when I came by for a chat." "You killed him first?" "Don't be a dope, Sabrina, a person can be killed only once. But yes, I killed him. Your attack was, if you'll excuse the pun, over-kill, though it doesn't matter. Your prints are on the letter opener and the gun." "But yours are on the gun, too." "Wrong. While you were traipsing through the office looking for the darling, I wiped off my prints and put it back in its holster, then I hid in his closet until you left. Lucky for me his gun fell out of the leg holster and you picked it up. That's how I got your prints on it." Faith laughed again. "Well, your prints are in the office and on the dumpster." "Wrong again. Didn't you notice that I never took off my gloves?" "But why did you kill him? You don't even know him." "I knew him a lot better than you." "You were having an affair with Amos?" Sabrina asked incredulously. Faith's nights at the gym took on new meaning. "Of course. And there was no Mrs. Beller. She divorced him years ago. When you came along, he had both of us. You in the examining room -- a bit tacky don't you think -- and me in his apartment. I thought it was appropriate to make you wait in your cozy salon de amour last night while I cleaned up after you." "How did you know about us. I didn't say anything until last night." "Not necessary. Amos loved to brag about his conquests. And by the way, movie lines were his favorite pick up spots. That's where we met." A shrill laugh traveled across the phone lines. "Why did you continue to see him if you knew about me?" "At first I was content to play second banana to you, like I did all my life, then I decided I wanted his full attention. So yesterday I showed up at his office and demanded he choose between us." "What was his answer?" "The pig preferred to leave things status quo. That's when I shot him." Faith's emotionless voice shocked Sabrina. "Why frame me for his murder? We're best friends." Sabrina fought to keep her voice calm. "Hah!" Faith snorted. "When you stabbed Amos I saw my opportunity to get even with you for stealing him and all the other slights I suffered from you during our long, miserable friendship." "That's crazy. You won't get away with this, Faith." "Why not? Your prints are on everything and your stole is in the dumpster with his body. By the way, the letter opener isn't in his pocket. It's in plain sight, on top of his body. I used it to slash open the rubber sheet, so his body can't be missed. The workmen have probably found him by now." "But you said he'd never be found under the debris." "What debris? I didn't cover his body." "I can't believe you double crossed me like this." Sabrina's voice trembled. "Why not? What are friends for? Bye, bye." Sabrina slumped back in her chair. The realization that she had been framed for murder by her life-long friend slammed into her with the force of a 120-mile an hour hurricane. How could she have been so stupid? Why didn't she notice that no blood spurted from Amos's chest when she stabbed him? Why didn't she see the bullet wound? Why didn't she call the police? Why didn't she question why Faith, who never wore gloves even in the dead of winter, chose to wear them last night? Why didn't she ask her how she knew that Amos was going to Barbados. And why wasn't she suspicious about how well Faith found her way around his office? But her questions were too late. Any minute now the police would be knocking on her door. She gazed fondly for what might be the last time at the tools of her writing profession -- her computer, her reference books, her telephone! And now it was her turn to laugh. The voice activated recorder attached to the telephone was on! The high-flying leap that her darling, precious, best friend Simon made onto the desk had activated the RECORD control. The machine began recording the moment Faith answered the phone. Her entire confession was on tape! Simon stared down at Sabrina from his perch high atop the bookcase, his tiny lips curled into a smug smile. "What are friends for, indeed!" Sabrina snickered. THE END Renee Gardner's first mystery short story was recently published in Woman's World magazine, another is scheduled to appear in Futures magazine. Her book reviews have appeared in Mysteryinternational.com. She is also the author of two pre-published full-length mystery novels. A resident of Manhattan, she is on the board of directors of the New York chapters of Mystery Writers of America and Sisters in Crime.