to his heart? And there’s Emily, the old bitch, looking sour as ever. And their little brats.” Snooky was not a model uncle. “And here I am, looking like a total jerk. Note that I do not spare myself in my criticisms. I never did look good in a tux.”
“You looked fine. Put that thing away now.”
“Tell me, Snooky,” said Bernard. “What do you think your wedding will be like?”
“Oh, I’m planning to get married in Las Vegas by an Elvis impersonator. They have ministers there who double as Elvis impersonators. That’s just one reason why Las Vegas is the cultural capital of the world.”
“Go call your friend,” Maya said. “You can invite her for dinner tomorrow, if you want.”
“Thanks, My.”
Snooky left the room. Bernard picked up the wedding album. He and Maya leafed silently through the pages.
“Oh my God,” Maya said heavily. “Look at
that.
Bernard, we must have been out of our minds. Why in the world didn’t we elope? Look at your cousin there. God, she looks awful. What kind of pose is that? What were we thinking of?”
“William does look like he’s at a funeral,” said Bernard. “I never noticed that before.”
“Why are your mother’s eyes closed in all the family group shots?”
“Why does Snooky look like he’s in a great deal of pain?”
“What is your cousin doing with that dog? Oh, God, why did we keep this thing? Put it back before it gets me crazy.”
There was a silence. Maya said musingly, “I suppose Snooky will be getting married someday. Hopefully notsomeday soon, but still … Bernard, do you have that tuxedo, or did we store it somewhere and lose it?”
“I think it’s in the guest-room closet.”
“Good. Maybe if the moths haven’t eaten it, you can wear it to Snooky’s wedding. How does that sound?”
“I’m not wearing a tuxedo in front of any Elvis impersonator,” Bernard said with feeling.
Ruth Abrams and Heather Crandall were discussing the murder over cups of grain coffee at Heather’s kitchen table. It was a gorgeous spring day; the sun streamed in and the room was light and cheerful. The windows were open and the green and yellow curtains swayed in the breeze. Ruth was wearing an old cotton dress with a faded floral print; her hair was ruffled and untidy. Heather managed to look neat and self-possessed, as always, in an embroidered caftan. Her hair was smoothly plaited into a long brown braid that hung down her back.
“Nobody would want to kill Laura,” Ruth was saying with conviction. “
Nobody!
”
“I agree.”
“It must have been some kind of accident.”
“Absolutely.”
“But what kind?”
“I think,” said Heather, “that it comes from too much meat-eating. Meat promotes aggressive tendencies. If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times. Vegetarianism is the way of the future.”
Ruth submitted meekly to another cup of the grain coffee. She added skim milk, stirred it and wondered if there was enough coffee and cream left at home for her to have a
real
cup when she got back.
“Meat, caffeine and sugar,” Heather was saying. “The deadly trio.”
“Oh, yes, yes. I tried your brown rice syrup the other day,” Ruth said with forced cheerfulness. “It was very good.”
“Oh, did you like it?”
“Mmmm, yes.”
She omitted to tell her friend that Sam had taken onebite of the overly sweet cake and had refused to eat any more. Even the cat would not touch it.
Heather’s dog, Mahler, wandered into the room and came hopefully to the table for scraps. Ruth wondered idly if Mahler was also a vegetarian, like the rest of the family. It seemed likely. She could not imagine Heather buying cans of dog food at the market. It was against everything she believed in. Ruth could imagine her friend preparing careful portions of vegetarian fare for Mahler: perhaps stewed carrots, with tofu “meatballs” (Heather’s specialty) and, who knows, maybe lettuce or whole grain crumbs for texture. Poor
“You looked fine. Put that thing away now.”
“Tell me, Snooky,” said Bernard. “What do you think your wedding will be like?”
“Oh, I’m planning to get married in Las Vegas by an Elvis impersonator. They have ministers there who double as Elvis impersonators. That’s just one reason why Las Vegas is the cultural capital of the world.”
“Go call your friend,” Maya said. “You can invite her for dinner tomorrow, if you want.”
“Thanks, My.”
Snooky left the room. Bernard picked up the wedding album. He and Maya leafed silently through the pages.
“Oh my God,” Maya said heavily. “Look at
that.
Bernard, we must have been out of our minds. Why in the world didn’t we elope? Look at your cousin there. God, she looks awful. What kind of pose is that? What were we thinking of?”
“William does look like he’s at a funeral,” said Bernard. “I never noticed that before.”
“Why are your mother’s eyes closed in all the family group shots?”
“Why does Snooky look like he’s in a great deal of pain?”
“What is your cousin doing with that dog? Oh, God, why did we keep this thing? Put it back before it gets me crazy.”
There was a silence. Maya said musingly, “I suppose Snooky will be getting married someday. Hopefully notsomeday soon, but still … Bernard, do you have that tuxedo, or did we store it somewhere and lose it?”
“I think it’s in the guest-room closet.”
“Good. Maybe if the moths haven’t eaten it, you can wear it to Snooky’s wedding. How does that sound?”
“I’m not wearing a tuxedo in front of any Elvis impersonator,” Bernard said with feeling.
Ruth Abrams and Heather Crandall were discussing the murder over cups of grain coffee at Heather’s kitchen table. It was a gorgeous spring day; the sun streamed in and the room was light and cheerful. The windows were open and the green and yellow curtains swayed in the breeze. Ruth was wearing an old cotton dress with a faded floral print; her hair was ruffled and untidy. Heather managed to look neat and self-possessed, as always, in an embroidered caftan. Her hair was smoothly plaited into a long brown braid that hung down her back.
“Nobody would want to kill Laura,” Ruth was saying with conviction. “
Nobody!
”
“I agree.”
“It must have been some kind of accident.”
“Absolutely.”
“But what kind?”
“I think,” said Heather, “that it comes from too much meat-eating. Meat promotes aggressive tendencies. If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times. Vegetarianism is the way of the future.”
Ruth submitted meekly to another cup of the grain coffee. She added skim milk, stirred it and wondered if there was enough coffee and cream left at home for her to have a
real
cup when she got back.
“Meat, caffeine and sugar,” Heather was saying. “The deadly trio.”
“Oh, yes, yes. I tried your brown rice syrup the other day,” Ruth said with forced cheerfulness. “It was very good.”
“Oh, did you like it?”
“Mmmm, yes.”
She omitted to tell her friend that Sam had taken onebite of the overly sweet cake and had refused to eat any more. Even the cat would not touch it.
Heather’s dog, Mahler, wandered into the room and came hopefully to the table for scraps. Ruth wondered idly if Mahler was also a vegetarian, like the rest of the family. It seemed likely. She could not imagine Heather buying cans of dog food at the market. It was against everything she believed in. Ruth could imagine her friend preparing careful portions of vegetarian fare for Mahler: perhaps stewed carrots, with tofu “meatballs” (Heather’s specialty) and, who knows, maybe lettuce or whole grain crumbs for texture. Poor
Similar Books
