bar
regular!
“What does Doc drink anyway?” I asked,
trying to take my mind off my troubles.
“Double gin,” said Edgar.
“Oh, yes, he has it every night. At
least a couple of them. His insides must be a tinderbox. As for myself, I stick
with good old-fashioned martinis.” And with that, Marian gave a demure hiccup.
“So, did you do it, anyway?” asked
Edgar.
Marian gave Edgar a light slap on his
wrist, then hiccupped again, “You can’t ask that, honey. Besides, does our new
little friend, Annie, look like she could murder anyone?” Fortunately, the
margarita was having its effect and I didn’t mind Edgar’s question too much.
“Well, I don’t know. No, I don’t really
think so,” said Edgar sheepishly. “He might have pulled some funny business on
Annie. I think if she did do it, it would be some kind of self-defense thing. You
don’t really know what any person might do to defend themselves.”
Marian let out a huge sigh. “Okay, let’s
change the subject. Say, Annie, how long will you be up in Door County?”
“I’m not sure yet. But I really love it
up here.”
“What did you come up here for?”
I explained my ghostwriting project and
how Harry figured into it. I noticed they both looked startled when I mentioned
Marcos Landrostassis by name.
Not wanting to pounce on them, I
casually asked them if they knew Marcos.
“Well, um, no, not really,” started
Edgar.
“That is to say, we don’t really know
him but we know of him,” said Marian. “And, let me tell you, I never would have
thought-”
At that moment, a karaoke contest
started on stage and someone came by and dragged Marian to the stage
mid-sentence.
Edgar good-naturedly laughed, “Sorry
about that, Annie. They go way back and Harriet loves to make Marian sing ‘Working
9 to 5’ with her during the karaoke contests.
“Huh, well, I guess every Lucy needs her
Ethel,” I observed, smiling back. Edgar slapped his knee and let out a howl in
reply. I didn’t think it was that funny, but I’d take it.
Marian and Harriet were the first duo
up, and truth be told, they weren’t too bad. Best of all, they looked like they
were having fun. Edgar clearly enjoyed watching his wife rock out to Dolly
Parton’s hit.
I figured I should probably get going,
so I finished my drink and made an Irish exit. Ever since actress and writer Mindy
Kaling explained the concept of an “Irish exit” in her book (leaving an event
by slipping out the door unseen), I had used that method of exit often.
Chapter
11
“A NNIE, PLEASE DON’T
THINK I’m crazy. But I have
an idea...” Lizzy exclaimed as she burst into my room at eight the following
morning. She dropped her handbag on the chair and plopped down on the couch. “I
know we were supposed to meet for lunch, but I couldn’t wait to run my idea by
you, especially since it concerns you.”
I must have looked at her skeptically.
But who could blame me? She hadn’t knocked and I had just showered and only
wore my fuzzy yellow bathrobe and bunny slippers (so sue me... I loved my bunny
slippers). I gaped at her through the wet hair hanging in my eyes.
“Do I need to be alert for this?” I
asked, warily. I may have grunted a little, too.
“Oh, do you need caffeine to get started
in the morning? Let’s run across to the Chocolate Cow and get you some
caffeine. I’ll fill you in then.” Lizzy shooed me back into the bathroom,
saying, “Hurry up, then we can go. I’ll wait for you out here. Do you have
anything I can read?”
Briefly I popped my head out of the
bathroom and nodded towards the nightstand. Lizzy followed my gesture and
pounced on the newest Julia Quinn book. One of the things we had bonded so
quickly over was our mutual adoration of Ms. Quinn, and mystery novels.
By the time she completed the first
chapter, I reappeared with my hair done (er, kind of—does a messy ponytail
count?), eyes lined, and clothes donned. We headed across the street to the Chocolate
Cow
regular!
“What does Doc drink anyway?” I asked,
trying to take my mind off my troubles.
“Double gin,” said Edgar.
“Oh, yes, he has it every night. At
least a couple of them. His insides must be a tinderbox. As for myself, I stick
with good old-fashioned martinis.” And with that, Marian gave a demure hiccup.
“So, did you do it, anyway?” asked
Edgar.
Marian gave Edgar a light slap on his
wrist, then hiccupped again, “You can’t ask that, honey. Besides, does our new
little friend, Annie, look like she could murder anyone?” Fortunately, the
margarita was having its effect and I didn’t mind Edgar’s question too much.
“Well, I don’t know. No, I don’t really
think so,” said Edgar sheepishly. “He might have pulled some funny business on
Annie. I think if she did do it, it would be some kind of self-defense thing. You
don’t really know what any person might do to defend themselves.”
Marian let out a huge sigh. “Okay, let’s
change the subject. Say, Annie, how long will you be up in Door County?”
“I’m not sure yet. But I really love it
up here.”
“What did you come up here for?”
I explained my ghostwriting project and
how Harry figured into it. I noticed they both looked startled when I mentioned
Marcos Landrostassis by name.
Not wanting to pounce on them, I
casually asked them if they knew Marcos.
“Well, um, no, not really,” started
Edgar.
“That is to say, we don’t really know
him but we know of him,” said Marian. “And, let me tell you, I never would have
thought-”
At that moment, a karaoke contest
started on stage and someone came by and dragged Marian to the stage
mid-sentence.
Edgar good-naturedly laughed, “Sorry
about that, Annie. They go way back and Harriet loves to make Marian sing ‘Working
9 to 5’ with her during the karaoke contests.
“Huh, well, I guess every Lucy needs her
Ethel,” I observed, smiling back. Edgar slapped his knee and let out a howl in
reply. I didn’t think it was that funny, but I’d take it.
Marian and Harriet were the first duo
up, and truth be told, they weren’t too bad. Best of all, they looked like they
were having fun. Edgar clearly enjoyed watching his wife rock out to Dolly
Parton’s hit.
I figured I should probably get going,
so I finished my drink and made an Irish exit. Ever since actress and writer Mindy
Kaling explained the concept of an “Irish exit” in her book (leaving an event
by slipping out the door unseen), I had used that method of exit often.
Chapter
11
“A NNIE, PLEASE DON’T
THINK I’m crazy. But I have
an idea...” Lizzy exclaimed as she burst into my room at eight the following
morning. She dropped her handbag on the chair and plopped down on the couch. “I
know we were supposed to meet for lunch, but I couldn’t wait to run my idea by
you, especially since it concerns you.”
I must have looked at her skeptically.
But who could blame me? She hadn’t knocked and I had just showered and only
wore my fuzzy yellow bathrobe and bunny slippers (so sue me... I loved my bunny
slippers). I gaped at her through the wet hair hanging in my eyes.
“Do I need to be alert for this?” I
asked, warily. I may have grunted a little, too.
“Oh, do you need caffeine to get started
in the morning? Let’s run across to the Chocolate Cow and get you some
caffeine. I’ll fill you in then.” Lizzy shooed me back into the bathroom,
saying, “Hurry up, then we can go. I’ll wait for you out here. Do you have
anything I can read?”
Briefly I popped my head out of the
bathroom and nodded towards the nightstand. Lizzy followed my gesture and
pounced on the newest Julia Quinn book. One of the things we had bonded so
quickly over was our mutual adoration of Ms. Quinn, and mystery novels.
By the time she completed the first
chapter, I reappeared with my hair done (er, kind of—does a messy ponytail
count?), eyes lined, and clothes donned. We headed across the street to the Chocolate
Cow
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