time.”
“So everyone who ate the cake displayed symptoms?” This was becoming less of a medical enigma and more of a no-brainer. “Are you absolutely sure you went to a pastry shop?”
“It wasn’t a pastry shop,” Tilly called out. “It was a coffeeshop.”
I sucked in my breath with horror. “A coffeeshop? You were supposed to avoid coffeeshops. Remember? I told you at all three group meetings. I handed out special memos. I made a notation on the bottom of your itineraries.”
“We knew you talked about ’em,” Nana confessed. “We just couldn’t remember what you said.”
“To reiterate,” I announced pointedly, “Dutch cafes serve light meals. Dutch coffeeshops serve bakery items laced with marijuana and God only knows what other drugs!”
They exchanged sheepish looks with each other before dissolving into giggles again.
I eyed them accusingly. “You’re all high as kites, aren’t you?”
“Congratulations for just figuring that out,” quipped Jackie.
Tilly swayed against George, circling her arm around his neck for support. “I haven’t felt this good since I chewed root bark with the Pygmies forty years ago.”
“I haven’t felt this good … ever,” slurred Margi.
Nana looked up at me imploringly. “You s’pose we could stop by that coffeeshop again on the way home, dear? I know where it is.”
“No! Has anyone tried phoning the Dicks?”
They gaped at me. They gaped at each other. Helen whipped out her cellphone and stared at it in confusion. “Hey, who replaced my phone with a remote control?”
“I have one, too,” marveled Osmond as he studied his screen. “I wonder how many channels I get?”
No doubt about it. A career change was looking more appealing all the time.
Nana punched a key on her cell and waited. “I’m gettin’ nuthin’ but dead air on Dick Teig’s line, Emily.”
“What about Dick Stolee?”
She repeated the process. “Nuthin’ there neither.”
Unh-oh. This wasn’t good. “Are you a hundred percent positive you didn’t leave them back at the coffeeshop?” I mean, with everyone acting so batty, anything was possible. The Dicks could be sitting in the coffeeshop, wondering where everyone went.
“They was the ones what suggested we come down here, dear. They was the first ones into the taxis.”
“And then what?”
“The taxis left us off on some side street and we followed the noise ’til we found where the action was. We all kinda huddled together, wonderin’ what to see first, but the Dicks took off before Osmond could even ask for a show of hands.” She cupped her hand around her mouth and lowered her voice. “Last I seen of ’em, they was headed for someplace called the Moulin Rouge.”
I brightened a little. “Like the famous cabaret in Paris?”
“What’s that one look like?”
“It has a big red windmill and a marquee touting its musical revue and can-can girls.”
She shook her head. “Don’t think it’s the same franchise. This one’s got a sign toutin’ itself as an Erotic Nightclub and Live Sex Theater.”
Oh, God . I inhaled a fortifying breath. I was Catholic. This was outside my comfort zone. “Okay, which way do I go?”
“Hang a left at the end of the alley and keep walkin’.”
“Does anyone have a spare leg I can use?” George called out. “Alice won’t give mine back to me.”
“Not until I have my turn!” she protested. “Everyone had a turn except me. It’s not fair.”
“Life’s not fair,” Jackie sympathized. Then with more enthusiasm, “Which is exactly why each and every one of you would benefit from the services of your own personal life coach! I have business cards. Anyone want one?”
Before Jackie could turn what remained of the evening into a private infomercial, I caught Nana’s eye. “Would you be a peach and dial up Alice’s cellphone for me?”
She punched her speed dial and handed me her phone.
Alice cocked her head as a muffled ring tone chimed
“So everyone who ate the cake displayed symptoms?” This was becoming less of a medical enigma and more of a no-brainer. “Are you absolutely sure you went to a pastry shop?”
“It wasn’t a pastry shop,” Tilly called out. “It was a coffeeshop.”
I sucked in my breath with horror. “A coffeeshop? You were supposed to avoid coffeeshops. Remember? I told you at all three group meetings. I handed out special memos. I made a notation on the bottom of your itineraries.”
“We knew you talked about ’em,” Nana confessed. “We just couldn’t remember what you said.”
“To reiterate,” I announced pointedly, “Dutch cafes serve light meals. Dutch coffeeshops serve bakery items laced with marijuana and God only knows what other drugs!”
They exchanged sheepish looks with each other before dissolving into giggles again.
I eyed them accusingly. “You’re all high as kites, aren’t you?”
“Congratulations for just figuring that out,” quipped Jackie.
Tilly swayed against George, circling her arm around his neck for support. “I haven’t felt this good since I chewed root bark with the Pygmies forty years ago.”
“I haven’t felt this good … ever,” slurred Margi.
Nana looked up at me imploringly. “You s’pose we could stop by that coffeeshop again on the way home, dear? I know where it is.”
“No! Has anyone tried phoning the Dicks?”
They gaped at me. They gaped at each other. Helen whipped out her cellphone and stared at it in confusion. “Hey, who replaced my phone with a remote control?”
“I have one, too,” marveled Osmond as he studied his screen. “I wonder how many channels I get?”
No doubt about it. A career change was looking more appealing all the time.
Nana punched a key on her cell and waited. “I’m gettin’ nuthin’ but dead air on Dick Teig’s line, Emily.”
“What about Dick Stolee?”
She repeated the process. “Nuthin’ there neither.”
Unh-oh. This wasn’t good. “Are you a hundred percent positive you didn’t leave them back at the coffeeshop?” I mean, with everyone acting so batty, anything was possible. The Dicks could be sitting in the coffeeshop, wondering where everyone went.
“They was the ones what suggested we come down here, dear. They was the first ones into the taxis.”
“And then what?”
“The taxis left us off on some side street and we followed the noise ’til we found where the action was. We all kinda huddled together, wonderin’ what to see first, but the Dicks took off before Osmond could even ask for a show of hands.” She cupped her hand around her mouth and lowered her voice. “Last I seen of ’em, they was headed for someplace called the Moulin Rouge.”
I brightened a little. “Like the famous cabaret in Paris?”
“What’s that one look like?”
“It has a big red windmill and a marquee touting its musical revue and can-can girls.”
She shook her head. “Don’t think it’s the same franchise. This one’s got a sign toutin’ itself as an Erotic Nightclub and Live Sex Theater.”
Oh, God . I inhaled a fortifying breath. I was Catholic. This was outside my comfort zone. “Okay, which way do I go?”
“Hang a left at the end of the alley and keep walkin’.”
“Does anyone have a spare leg I can use?” George called out. “Alice won’t give mine back to me.”
“Not until I have my turn!” she protested. “Everyone had a turn except me. It’s not fair.”
“Life’s not fair,” Jackie sympathized. Then with more enthusiasm, “Which is exactly why each and every one of you would benefit from the services of your own personal life coach! I have business cards. Anyone want one?”
Before Jackie could turn what remained of the evening into a private infomercial, I caught Nana’s eye. “Would you be a peach and dial up Alice’s cellphone for me?”
She punched her speed dial and handed me her phone.
Alice cocked her head as a muffled ring tone chimed
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