burned script in the barbecue. She had just finished
when Joe came into the kitchen.
“They’re adjourning to the living room,” he announced. “I gather they may all be going out to dinner
in a private room at Capri’s.”
Capri’s, on the very edge of Heraldsgate Hill, was
one of the city’s oldest and most distinguished eateries.
“I didn’t think they were open on Sundays,” Judith
said.
“Apparently they are for this bunch,” Joe responded
with a wave for Arlene, who was heading to the back
door.
“But what about all the food I ordered?” Judith
wailed. “It’ll go to waste and I’ll get stuck paying for it.”
Arlene went into reverse in more ways than one.
“Send it over to our house. I can use it to feed those
wretched kids of ours. They eat like cannibals.”
“Cannibals?” Renie echoed.
“You know what I mean,” Arlene said peevishly.
“They eat like your children.”
“Oh.” Renie nodded. “Now I get it.”
Arlene hurried out of the house.
Judith was on her feet, gripping Joe’s shoulders.
“Well? What did they say in this latest meeting?”
“Spin-doctor stuff, mostly,” Joe replied. “Morris
Mayne has the burden of trying to make everything
sound as if Bruno died for Art.”
“Hunh?” Judith dropped her hands.
Joe shrugged, then opened the fridge and took out a
beer. “You know—that Bruno was so disturbed over
the possibility of failure that it broke his heart. He’d
striven to be the best in his chosen profession, and anything less than a total triumph was too terrible to face.
Blah-blah.”
“So they think it was an accident?” Judith asked as
she heard footsteps climbing the main staircase.
“They want it to be more than an accident,” Joe said
as Bill also came into the kitchen, carrying a small
notepad. “They want it to be a Greek tragedy. It plays
better that way, as Dade Costello pointed out during
the powwow. Morris Mayne was all for it.”
“What’s the official news release?” Renie inquired.
“Go scavenge for it after they’ve cleared the area,”
Joe suggested. “Bill and I could hear the ripping and
tearing of many sheets of paper. Maybe you’ll find
what’s close to a finished product.”
Bill was now at the fridge, perusing its contents.
“They issued an earlier statement, but it sounded very
terse.” He paused, scowling at the shelves. “Don’t you
