Murder Can Spoil Your Appetite by Selma Eichler Page A

came to his rescue. “It’s a good thing for us Cookie was able to persuade you to come in,” he interjected. I caught Lou’s expression, and he seemed to be having difficulty suppressing a grin.
    “Yeah, well, she overheard me speaking to my wife. I realize a lot of people might dispute this, but kids seem to have more of a social conscience than the rest of us. Don’t you agree?”
    Lou’s “Yes, I do” and my “Absolutely” emerged simultaneously.
    “Of course,” Ross added, “I’m referring to the ones that don’t go around doing drugs and mugging old ladies and batting out a bunch of illegitimate offspring for the rest of us to support.”
    And here Lou set a truly admirable example in tact. “We don’t want to take up too much of your time, Mr. Ross, particularly in view of how hectic your schedule is today. So why don’t you tell Ms. Shapiro about the car now.”
    “Yes, I’d better do that. It was there, parked across the street from my building, since at least five after six Wednesday night. A tan 1986 Toyota Camry, just like the radio said.”
    “I understand you noticed someone in the car,” I told him.
    “Correct. When I was headed for the lot—that’s where I park my own car—I crossed the street right in front of the Camry. It’s only natural that I would think the occupant might be someone I knew, so I casually peeked inside. But I wasn’t able to see very much of him.”
    “Because it had started to get dark outside, you mean?” I asked.
    “Not really. Hedden Circle’s very well lit, as I’m sure you’re aware. It was primarily because he was slumped so far down in his seat—almost as if he were trying to conceal himself.”
    “You’re not able to tell us anything about the man? Not anything ?” I persisted.
    Ross’s brow furrowed, and he appeared to be turning things over in his mind. “Only that he was all bundled up. I remember noting that it wasn’t a very cold day, either.” His tone became defensive: “But that wasn’t any cause for suspicion. Listen, the fellow might have been trying to ward off the flu or something, true? In fact, I myself was wearing—”
    Lou cut short what promised to be a lengthy description of his attire. “Anybody else around when you left that evening?”
    “Not a soul.”
    “And you’re certain it was a man in that car?”
    “Oh, yes,” Ross stated emphatically. But as it had with Lottie Schmidt, the question gave him pause. “Uh, why do you ask? Have you any reason to believe that it wasn’t?”
    “No, just double-checking,” Lou responded.
    “And you’re definite about the vehicle being an ’86 Toyota Camry?” I put to him.
    “Look, if there’s one thing I know, it’s cars.”
    “So the perp was at the scene from six o’clock on,” I mused aloud.
    Ross stuck his two cents right into my thoughts. “I said he was there since at least six. Or five after, to be exact.”
    This guy could really get to me, all right. “Yes, you did,” I mumbled, making a valiant—if not altogether successful—effort to keep my irritation to myself.
    “As I told Lieutenant Herman here—”
    “Hoffman,” Lou corrected good-naturedly.
    But Ross was too intent on his narrative to pay attention. “—On most days I leave for home at five, taking a file or two with me, if necessary. It’s a struggle to concentrate at work. Believe me, that place is a positive zoo . Don Bender—the fellow in the office next to mine—he blasts the damn radio all day long.”
    I gave him a couple of tsk, tsks to be nice.
    “And if that’s not bad enough, the firm appears to be committed to hiring the silliest, noisiest secretaries they can find. You can’t imagine how those girls chatter and giggle and carry on. It does absolutely no good to complain, either. I found that out. All it accomplishes is that everyone starts referring to you as an old woman. And just because you believe in a decent work ethic. Well, I—”
    “On the subject of