glimpsed cruising a strange sea.
On the lawn, a flock of large black crows appeared not to have been disturbed by the critic’s passage. As I stepped from the stoop onto the walkway, the birds erupted from the grass in a tribulation of wings so great that my eardrums shivered.
Hoping to catch up with Waxx when he braked for the stop sign at the corner, I ran into the street. Without pause, he accelerated through the intersection, and pursuit was pointless.
The crows shrieked into the sullen sky, but were silenced by altitude, and as I returned to the house, a single black feather floated down past my face.
Stepping through the front door, I smelled a thin but repulsive metallic odor. In the hallway, the odor swelled into a stink. In the kitchen, it was a stench.
The Advantium oven was set on SPEED COOK at the highest power level. Tendrils of gray smoke slithered from the vent holes on the bottom of the unit.
I stooped down, switched it off, and peered through the view window. Within a cowl of pale smoke, fire flickered.
Deprived of oxygen, the flames quickly died out. I opened the door, waving away the fumes that plumed into my face.
In the oven, a silver frame held a five-by-seven photograph. The fabric-covered backing board had caught fire. The glass was cracked, and the photo under it was slightly discolored.
The frame should have been on the desk in my study. The photo was of Penny, Milo, Lassie, and me.
In the men’s room at the restaurant, Waxx had said the word doom without punctuation. This business with the photo seemed to add an exclamation point.
After walking the house to lock every window and door, after setting the security alarm, I felt safe enough to leave Milo in his room with Lassie, while Penny and I huddled at the kitchen table, at the center of which stood the damaged photo in the silver frame.
“So you knew Waxx would be there for lunch,” she said. “But you didn’t tell me. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wondered about that at the time.”
“Are you still wondering about it?”
“No, I’ve figured it out.”
“Share with me.”
“I didn’t want you to talk me out of going.”
“You knew better than to confront him.”
She wasn’t angry, just disappointed in me.
I wished that she would get angry instead.
“I didn’t confront him,” I assured her.
“Seems like something must have happened.”
“I just wanted to get a look at him. He’s so reclusive.”
Her blue gaze is as direct as the aim of an experienced bird hunter in his blind, her double-barreled eyes tracking the truth. My determination always to meet her extraordinary gaze has made a better man of me over the years.
“So what does he look like?” she asked.
“Like a walking slab of concrete with white hair and a bow tie.”
“What did you say to him?”
“I didn’t approach him. I watched him from a distance. But then at the end of lunch, after I paid the check, Milo needed to pee.”
“Is the pee germane to the story, or are you vamping to delay telling me about the confrontation with Waxx?”
“It’s germane.” I told her the rest of the tale.
Frowning, she said, “And Milo didn’t sprinkle him?”
“No. Not even a drop.”
“Waxx said ‘Doom’? What do you think he meant by it?”
“At first I thought he meant he’ll rip my next book even worse.”
Indicating the framed photo that I had rescued from the oven, she said, “Now what do you think?”
“I don’t know. This is crazy.”
For a moment we sat in silence.
Night had fallen. Evidently, Penny distrusted the darkness at the windows as much as I did. She got up to shut the pleated shades.
I almost told her that she should stand to the side of the window when she pulled the cord. Backlit, she made an easy target.
Instead, I got up and dropped two of the shades.
She said, “I need a cookie.”
“Before dinner? What if Milo sees you?”
“He already knows I’m a hypocrite when it comes to the cookie
On the lawn, a flock of large black crows appeared not to have been disturbed by the critic’s passage. As I stepped from the stoop onto the walkway, the birds erupted from the grass in a tribulation of wings so great that my eardrums shivered.
Hoping to catch up with Waxx when he braked for the stop sign at the corner, I ran into the street. Without pause, he accelerated through the intersection, and pursuit was pointless.
The crows shrieked into the sullen sky, but were silenced by altitude, and as I returned to the house, a single black feather floated down past my face.
Stepping through the front door, I smelled a thin but repulsive metallic odor. In the hallway, the odor swelled into a stink. In the kitchen, it was a stench.
The Advantium oven was set on SPEED COOK at the highest power level. Tendrils of gray smoke slithered from the vent holes on the bottom of the unit.
I stooped down, switched it off, and peered through the view window. Within a cowl of pale smoke, fire flickered.
Deprived of oxygen, the flames quickly died out. I opened the door, waving away the fumes that plumed into my face.
In the oven, a silver frame held a five-by-seven photograph. The fabric-covered backing board had caught fire. The glass was cracked, and the photo under it was slightly discolored.
The frame should have been on the desk in my study. The photo was of Penny, Milo, Lassie, and me.
In the men’s room at the restaurant, Waxx had said the word doom without punctuation. This business with the photo seemed to add an exclamation point.
After walking the house to lock every window and door, after setting the security alarm, I felt safe enough to leave Milo in his room with Lassie, while Penny and I huddled at the kitchen table, at the center of which stood the damaged photo in the silver frame.
“So you knew Waxx would be there for lunch,” she said. “But you didn’t tell me. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wondered about that at the time.”
“Are you still wondering about it?”
“No, I’ve figured it out.”
“Share with me.”
“I didn’t want you to talk me out of going.”
“You knew better than to confront him.”
She wasn’t angry, just disappointed in me.
I wished that she would get angry instead.
“I didn’t confront him,” I assured her.
“Seems like something must have happened.”
“I just wanted to get a look at him. He’s so reclusive.”
Her blue gaze is as direct as the aim of an experienced bird hunter in his blind, her double-barreled eyes tracking the truth. My determination always to meet her extraordinary gaze has made a better man of me over the years.
“So what does he look like?” she asked.
“Like a walking slab of concrete with white hair and a bow tie.”
“What did you say to him?”
“I didn’t approach him. I watched him from a distance. But then at the end of lunch, after I paid the check, Milo needed to pee.”
“Is the pee germane to the story, or are you vamping to delay telling me about the confrontation with Waxx?”
“It’s germane.” I told her the rest of the tale.
Frowning, she said, “And Milo didn’t sprinkle him?”
“No. Not even a drop.”
“Waxx said ‘Doom’? What do you think he meant by it?”
“At first I thought he meant he’ll rip my next book even worse.”
Indicating the framed photo that I had rescued from the oven, she said, “Now what do you think?”
“I don’t know. This is crazy.”
For a moment we sat in silence.
Night had fallen. Evidently, Penny distrusted the darkness at the windows as much as I did. She got up to shut the pleated shades.
I almost told her that she should stand to the side of the window when she pulled the cord. Backlit, she made an easy target.
Instead, I got up and dropped two of the shades.
She said, “I need a cookie.”
“Before dinner? What if Milo sees you?”
“He already knows I’m a hypocrite when it comes to the cookie
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