Murder Takes to the Hills by Jessica Thomas Page A

happened.”
    “Everybody was sitting on some sort of public bench,” I argued. “None of them had a reasonable expectation of privacy. And the pirates didn’t mention seafood or their club or vets or anything bearing on what they told Cassie. I tell you, Sonny, they are dangerous phonies.”
    “I gotta turn the chicken. Right back.” He loped across the lawn, flipped the meat and came back.   “Okay. Look at what they probably meant. They want to make sure the suppliers will have enough clams and lobsters and whatever to fill their order, even though demand is getting heavy here in town. Do they have trucks available to go to the airport? Do they have enough employees to catch, process, pack and deliver it to Cassie at a given hour? Surely Cassie will need to know the approximate weight in order to figure her fuel situation, and size so she will know how to balance them in the plane. So Frank is a nitpicker, which may account for their mutual success on various jobs. What job? Installing vinyl siding? Painting a house? Fixing a car? Installing a furnace? Come on, Sis, the list is endless.”
    “Well, I suppose it could go either way,” I admitted. “But think of Cassie. If it is dope, they’ve got to kill her somewhere along the way even if they just push her out over Lake Erie.”
    “And we can’t let that happen,” he placated. “If she gets a definite time and date from these guys, I will personally inspect every cooler to make sure it holds nothing more than tomorrow’s dinner. Okay?”
    “I guess.” I sighed. “But for Cassie’s safety can’t you have someone keep an eye on them?”
    “My dear sister, I do not have the entire NYPD at my command. First I would have to assign people to find them, if they could, then use at least five people to tail them, et cetera. In the meantime restaurants could be robbed and old ladies mugged…all because of Harmon’s imagination and your Star Wars gizmo. C’mon, let’s eat.”
    “Sonny.” Cindy had dealt herself back into the game. “Am I taking up too much of your time—and budget—with this stalker of mine? Apparently he is proving to be harmless.” Her voice quivered a bit. “If he even exists. Maybe you should just send Edgar on home.”
    Sonny—always gentle with Cindy—reached across the table to pat her hand. “You let me worry about when to send Edgar home. Right now he’s doing what should be done.”
    We all agreed that dinner was very good, but somehow none of us seemed terribly hungry.

    Sonny didn’t linger after dinner. I don’t know if it was business or pleasure…or just a desire to get away from his bothersome sister and her bothersome friend. Cindy and I cleared up the deck and moved inside, leaving the aloof half-moon to make its chill, still progression across the pond.   Cindy must have started the wood stove earlier, for the small living room felt warm and friendly. She came in bearing a tray with coffee and two small glasses of brandy—the snifters were at the house.
    “I figured we might enjoy this with a little light conversation.” She smiled. “We have a choice of something over one hundred TV stations—and nothing to watch.   I’m sick of meerkats —their problems are all too human. I am not smarter than a fifth grader—we didn’t have all that science stuff in fifth grade, did we? The only thing worse than American Idol is Don’t Forget the Lyrics . In the cops ’n robber shows they’re either busy screwing each other—one way or another—or lying on the floor bleeding. The sitcoms make the I Love Lucy reruns seem deeply intellectual. And the nature shows are all too depressing…the more so because I know it’s all true. So talk to me, baby.”
    “Gladly. I only wish I had taped your little speech and sent it to every TV network. It’s a scathing commentary, and like your nature programs, all too true. First, my love, a question.”
    I sipped my brandy and mentally snuggled in its warmth. Then I