“Naomi?” Miriam rose from her chair. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s Quigley’s,” Naomi said urgently, and that was all Miriam needed to hear; she snatched the Sefer Poyel from the table and dashed out of the cafe with Naomi. If Darby had any comment to offer, she didn’t hear.

Outside, the cause of Naomi’s distress was instantly apparent: another small crowd had gathered outside Quigley’s book shop across the street, once again formed around the familiar and extremely unwelcome figure of Irene Usher. As always she was dressed in her dour skirt and coat, wool hat slouched on her white curls. Miriam grumbled under her breath as she tucked her book carefully into her broad purse. Like hell I’m letting her get even one glimpse of this, she thought, and she raised her head again just in time to see Irene rear back and then launch a stone straight through the bookshop’s front window. It shattered with an ear-splitting crash.

“H-Hey!” Miriam flushed all over and marched across the street toward her. “What the hell are you doing!”

Unlike the last time Miriam had confronted Irene in front of Quigley’s, the crowd was a more even mix of righteous indignation and malicious encouragement: several sour-faced men and women were clustered around Irene as if bodyguards, warding off any passers-by who tried to get close enough to stop what was happening. As Miriam got closer, she could see that Irene had an entire sack of fist-sized rocks hanging from her shoulder; she lobbed another at the store, breaking out what remained of the glass.

“Stop!”Miriam reached for her, only to be shoved back by one of the sour-faced men: a middle-aged gentleman dressed in an ill-fitting suit. It was then that she realized he was holding a billy club--might he have even been an off-duty cop? Miriam squared her shoulders to the man angrily. “What the hell are you doing? You just destroyed that window!”

Irene turned, and upon spotting Miriam, she scowled. “Miss Vance.  As always, drawn to the scene of sin.”

“You’ve lost your damn mind,” Miriam shot back, and the observers began to coalesce behind her, as if two gangs were squaring up for a showdown. “And you’re going to be under arrest as soon as the police get here!”

The man in front of Miriam sneered at her, confirming her suspicion, but it was Irene who replied. “I am performing a public service,” she said icily. “This store is promoting indecency, which is my duty to expose!”

“It’s a bookshop.” Miriam gestured angrily as her growing number of supporters murmured in agreement. “And it’s private property. Doesn’t your silly book have something to say about breaking the law?”

But Irene only scoffed as she reached into her sack for another rock. “Disrespectful little girl. But then, you always have been.” She narrowed her eyes at Miriam. “I’m through wasting my prayers on you.”

She hefted her rock and turned back toward Quigley’s--just as poor Wilma Quigley herself could be seen in the window, shocked and tear-streaked at the vandalism. Miriam lurched toward Irene, fearful that she was about to witness an assault or worse, only to again be shoved back by Mr. Sour-face. As they scuffled, Naomi darted forward, Miriam’s distraction giving her enough of an opening that she was able to snatch Irene’s wrist. But almost immediately two of Irene’s supporters also intervened, and they threw Naomi back without any trouble at all. 

It was very nearly an all out brawl. As bystanders moved forward to support Naomi before she could topple straight off her feet, Miriam grabbed up her purse, momentarily forgetting its contents in favor of its viability as a bludgeon. The fight was interrupted then, however, by a shrill whistle from the sidewalk: Darby, having emerged from the cafe, strolled up to the mayhem seemingly without one ounce of self-awareness. “What’s all this fuss about?” he asked innocently.

“Ha!” Irene scoffed triumphantly. She looked to her peers. “See how the serpent returns to his den.”

“You already got his book banned like you wanted,” Miriam snapped, still twisting her hands around her purse straps; her frustrations over Darby himself only made it that much easier for her outrage to take root, and she was fully prepared to knock the old bat’s lights out if given the chance. “What the hell else do you want?”

“This establishment is mired in sin!” Irene declared, gesturing to the storefront with the rock still clutched in her fist. “Even with the judge’s order it is still selling this devil’s salacious fictions! They even have the audacity to sell entire bundles of his previous works marked up!”

“Well now, that’s just good business,” Darby drawled, “thanks to good marketing.”

Irene puffed herself up. “You have sullied this town for too long! Begone, snake!”

She lobbed the rock directly at him. Miriam stood shocked, barely enough time to think, She thinks a rock is going to hurt a real demon? before the stone struck Darby directly between the eyes. It made a terrible thunk and he stumbled back, completely unprepared and cursing in exasperation. The glimpse of blood trickling down the bridge of his nose had Miriam seeing red, and she whirled on Irene. 

“Hateful old bitch!” Miriam hollered, and she with the full force of both arms, she smashed her purse--and the tome inside--into Irene’s face.

The blow quite satisfyingly took Irene completely off her feet. One of her minions managed to half catch her, but even then the momentum was enough to send both women onto the sidewalk. Miriam only had seconds to enjoy her victory, as the off-duty cop that had squared off against her moments ago was back and swinging his arm toward her. Just as she grimaced, expecting a slap or much worse, Naomi again bolted into the fray. What she did, Miriam had only an idea; one moment the man was readying to strike, the next he was laid out on the concrete, doubled over and gasping for breath.

Naomi looked to her, and when their eyes met, the uncharacteristic fury in her sweet brown eyes made Miriam’s heart skip.

Even more so when a voice shouted, “Police! Stay right there!”

The crowd splintered in panic; Irene and most of her followers scrambled to make a run for it, as did a few of the bystanders caught up in the adrenaline of it all. Naomi shifted back and forth anxiously, not knowing if she ought to run or not, while Darby sat himself on the curb. It looked like the brief, bombastic scene had ended--much too soon, to Miriam’s tastes. When she realized that Irene and hers were piling into a nearby parked car, she scooped up one of the stones from the fallen sack.

“Yeah, run!” she shouted after them. “God damn cowards!” She heaved the rock just as the last of them ducked into the car, smashing one of the rear lights. Then the gang of them took off, leaving Irene’s remaining stones and two of their peers behind.

“Assholes,” Miriam grumbled under her breath. There wasn’t much she could do to stop Irene’s stragglers from taking off on foot--though a pair of police officers were approaching, their demeanors made it immediately clear they had no intention of giving chase. Hands quivering with frustration and adrenaline, she straightened out her skirt and checked her purse before turning back to the scene.

Darby was still seated on the curb, a gaggle of very sympathetic women fussing over the bruised lump on his forehead--to his dull delight, it seemed. Miriam’s shock at seeing him take the hit so plainly plummeted into annoyance. He’s fine after all, of course. This might even be another hair-brained marketing attempt from him! Leaving him be for the moment, she turned to Naomi and quickly looked her over. “Are you all right?”

“Y-Yes, fine,” Naomi said, breathless but seemingly unharmed. “Are you?”

“Yeah. But no!” Miriam looked to Quigley’s and saw Wilma herself finally emerging, once again teary-eyed at the mayhem in front of her store. “Come on--let’s make sure she’s okay.”

Before Miriam could make it up the steps to the front door, one of the police officers--a tight-faced woman she did not expect any tact or empathy from--intercepted her. “Ma’am,” the woman said, “can you tell me what you were doing throwing rocks at the car just now?”

“Me?” Immediately Miriam felt her temper hitching back up as if the scuffle had never ended. “Did you not see any of that?”

“I saw you smash out that car’s window,” the woman replied stoically. “Care to explain?”

“Irene Usher is the one who brought the rocks,” Naomi interrupted, threading her arm through Miriam’s. She sounded so charmingly indignant on her friend’s behalf that Miriam’s ears turned red. “I saw her come up to the store with her people; she was making threats, and then she smashed out the store’s front window.”

The officer looked to the bookshop, where her partner was already speaking to Mrs. Quigley. “And why would Ms. Usher do that?”

“Because she’s a self-righteous nut-job, that’s why,” Miriam snapped. “And I’ll come down to the station and give a statement to that effect if that’s what you want, I know how all this works.”

“Yes, I know you do, Miss Vance.” Though seemingly uninterested in the entire conflict, the officer pulled her notebook out of her pocket along with a pencil. “I’ll save us both the trouble and take your statement here.”

I’m not the one who did anything wrong, you know, Miriam wanted to scold her, but she held back, instead relating the events just as they had occurred. Her attention continuously drifted back to poor Wilma Quigley, who was already doing the same with the other officer while another squad car pulled up. That woman’s gone too far, and it’s time someone did something about it.