now to even bring up.
“You are, though,” Dan B. volunteered.
“
“Acting a little weird lately.”
Vera considered this. She guessed it was true. “Yeah, I confess. Kyle’s ticking me off again.”
“Still scoping your milk wagons, huh?”
Vera winced. Male lexicon seemed at no loss for sexist references to female physiology. “I thought it was rib melons, Dan B.”
“Rib melons, milk wagons—same thing,” Dan B. defined. “Just let me know when you want me to lock the asshole in my walk-in for a few days. See ya.”
Dan B. was about to leave, then turned back. “One thing, though. Lee’s been acting a little weird too.”
“How so?”
“I don’t know.” Dan B. fingered his chin. “But I can tell something’s bugging him.”
“Maybe he’s just homesick,” Vera offered.
”Nah, no way—he hated the city. He just seems down, you know, distracted or something. And he acts even weirder whenever that maid is around. You know, the one with her hair in a bun?’’
Vera felt a little jolt.
“I don’t know,” Dan B. went on. “It’s probably nothing. Anyway, I’ll see you at dinner.”
”’Bye.”
Vera’s perplexity sat on her shoulder like a bothersome parrot; weird things seemed to be amassing, none of which she could even begin to figure. Dan B.’s departure made her feel sullen in the office, and bored now that she’d finished the daily paperwork. When the phone rang, she snapped it up, grateful for anything to get her mind off her confusion.
“Is this The Inn?” a rough, rusty voice asked.
“Yes, it is, and I’m Vera Abbot. Can I help you?”
“Yeah, ma’am, well maybe you can. This is Sergeant
Greg Valentine, Waynesville Police. Our dispatcher’s 10-6 log has Chief Mulligan dropping by your inn yesterday. That true?”
“Yes,” Vera said, though she had no idea what a 10-6 log could be. “It was yesterday morning; I talked to him myself.”
“How long was he there, ma’am?”
“Only a short time. Twenty minutes maybe.”
“Then he left?”
What an odd question.
