all his seafood.”
“Yeah, I guess not. Did Officer Hatcher overhear any of this?”
She took another cigarette. “Yes, every word, while he tried to look busy with the tire gauge. He also thought everything sounded legit. We agreed they were all ignorant about seafood—they thought you cook scallops in their shells—but that Frank was knowledgeable about planes. Okay?”
“I reckon. It just sounded kind of funny the way I heard it. When is this great shipment taking place, and where are they getting all that seafood?”
“In about three weeks. They’re going to firm up the date next week so I can lock in my schedule. I gave them the address of Cape End Wholesalers here, and Phil Pino’s phone down in Wellfleet. If he doesn’t have all the scallops they want, I guess he can get them. Satisfied, mother?”
“Just trying to be helpful,” I said, somewhat miffed.
“I know, darlin ’, and I love you for it. Seriously, you look tired, Alex. Have you and your lady thought of grabbing a few fun-filled days somewhere before the season really starts?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
I tossed my tea bottle into the recycling bin and went on my way.
At home I buried my hockey T-shirt into my catchall bureau drawer where Cindy never goes and put on a sloganless tan one. Knowing there were no twenty-four hour drinking rules before going to the supermarket tomorrow, I snagged a cold Bud and bid good-day to the departing Orrick Philharmonic as I hit the deck chair for the still-warm rays of sun.
CHAPTER SEVEN
My wardrobe was running thin on clothing to make me look appreciably different when I went out on my patrol to check up on Edgar, and keep an eye out for the stalker as well. Edgar had been in place for nearly a week now, and I didn’t check up all day every day as I had at the beginning. But I did go out once most every day.
He had reported to Sonny as of yesterday that he had spotted no one showing unusual interest in Cindy. I wanted to make sure he was doing all he should before we began to wonder if somehow Cindy had imagined her follower. I found that solution hard to accept, anyway. Cindy is not afraid of men as such. Indeed, she gets along well with most men and likes them, gay or straight.
And she is not imaginative when it comes to fancying rapists under the bed or kidnappers lurking in the shrubbery. Something had frightened her and I had no doubt it was real. We had been careful not to spread word of her problem around. Not even Mom and Aunt Mae knew. I hadn’t even told Cassie, and I certainly hadn’t told Peter and the Wolf…our two good friends who ran a B&B which catered—in every sense of the word—to gay men. Peter’s first name really was Peter, and Wolf’s last name was Wolf—someone coined the sobriquet and it stuck.
So, I needed a new disguise. I had a brilliant thought. I went outdoors and asked one of Orrick’s electricians, who was about my size, if he had an extra pair of coveralls in his van. He allowed as how he did, having picked up his laundry only yesterday.
I asked if I could borrow a pair, assuring him I would have them laundered and back in place tomorrow. Puzzled but agreeable, he went to his van and pulled out a pair with one or two paint spatters, a varnish stain and one knee worn through. Perfect.
Standing in the yard of the courthouse, along with several other idlers, I realized I must have misjudged the height of the coveralls’ owner. Both the legs and arms were too long, and I had to cuff them both twice to get them the length they should be for me. They looked a bit clumsy, but I was sure that, accessorized by old sneakers, white work socks, my Red Sox cap and a pair of wire-frame glasses with clear glass lenses, no one would recognize me.
I lazily watched Cindy disappear into the health food store for some lunch hour shopping, while Edgar sauntered across the street to admire the window décor of The Catch fishing tackle mart. I was taking a sip of my lukewarm
“Yeah, I guess not. Did Officer Hatcher overhear any of this?”
She took another cigarette. “Yes, every word, while he tried to look busy with the tire gauge. He also thought everything sounded legit. We agreed they were all ignorant about seafood—they thought you cook scallops in their shells—but that Frank was knowledgeable about planes. Okay?”
“I reckon. It just sounded kind of funny the way I heard it. When is this great shipment taking place, and where are they getting all that seafood?”
“In about three weeks. They’re going to firm up the date next week so I can lock in my schedule. I gave them the address of Cape End Wholesalers here, and Phil Pino’s phone down in Wellfleet. If he doesn’t have all the scallops they want, I guess he can get them. Satisfied, mother?”
“Just trying to be helpful,” I said, somewhat miffed.
“I know, darlin ’, and I love you for it. Seriously, you look tired, Alex. Have you and your lady thought of grabbing a few fun-filled days somewhere before the season really starts?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
I tossed my tea bottle into the recycling bin and went on my way.
At home I buried my hockey T-shirt into my catchall bureau drawer where Cindy never goes and put on a sloganless tan one. Knowing there were no twenty-four hour drinking rules before going to the supermarket tomorrow, I snagged a cold Bud and bid good-day to the departing Orrick Philharmonic as I hit the deck chair for the still-warm rays of sun.
CHAPTER SEVEN
My wardrobe was running thin on clothing to make me look appreciably different when I went out on my patrol to check up on Edgar, and keep an eye out for the stalker as well. Edgar had been in place for nearly a week now, and I didn’t check up all day every day as I had at the beginning. But I did go out once most every day.
He had reported to Sonny as of yesterday that he had spotted no one showing unusual interest in Cindy. I wanted to make sure he was doing all he should before we began to wonder if somehow Cindy had imagined her follower. I found that solution hard to accept, anyway. Cindy is not afraid of men as such. Indeed, she gets along well with most men and likes them, gay or straight.
And she is not imaginative when it comes to fancying rapists under the bed or kidnappers lurking in the shrubbery. Something had frightened her and I had no doubt it was real. We had been careful not to spread word of her problem around. Not even Mom and Aunt Mae knew. I hadn’t even told Cassie, and I certainly hadn’t told Peter and the Wolf…our two good friends who ran a B&B which catered—in every sense of the word—to gay men. Peter’s first name really was Peter, and Wolf’s last name was Wolf—someone coined the sobriquet and it stuck.
So, I needed a new disguise. I had a brilliant thought. I went outdoors and asked one of Orrick’s electricians, who was about my size, if he had an extra pair of coveralls in his van. He allowed as how he did, having picked up his laundry only yesterday.
I asked if I could borrow a pair, assuring him I would have them laundered and back in place tomorrow. Puzzled but agreeable, he went to his van and pulled out a pair with one or two paint spatters, a varnish stain and one knee worn through. Perfect.
Standing in the yard of the courthouse, along with several other idlers, I realized I must have misjudged the height of the coveralls’ owner. Both the legs and arms were too long, and I had to cuff them both twice to get them the length they should be for me. They looked a bit clumsy, but I was sure that, accessorized by old sneakers, white work socks, my Red Sox cap and a pair of wire-frame glasses with clear glass lenses, no one would recognize me.
I lazily watched Cindy disappear into the health food store for some lunch hour shopping, while Edgar sauntered across the street to admire the window décor of The Catch fishing tackle mart. I was taking a sip of my lukewarm
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