at number one, who were at work now. I popped in to see Dot to tell her I was leaving.
“Okay, dear. Oh, Simon called and said you should call him if you want to have lunch again.”
I really needed to get home and write up the story, but now that it was over, a little part of me was thinking I’d like to have one last lunch with Simon. After all, I’d never see him—or any of the residents of Los Alamos Court for that matter—again. Shame, they were starting to grow on me. Not enough that I’d come back for anything less than a gun to the head, but there was a small amount of fond affection in my thoughts.
I called Simon and arranged to meet him at the same place as yesterday, said goodbye to Dot, and drove to the Green Chile Deli.
Simon walked into the deli a moment behind me and, after a smiled greeting, we each ordered the same bagels as the day before.
“How’s the investigation going?” he asked when we’d found a table.
I hung my bag on the back of my chair and sighed. “Not so good. I’ve now considered and rejected ten theories.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You came up with that many?”
“Actually, your neighbors did. Although two aren’t ruled out completely … How sure are you that your father-in-law can’t walk?” I resisted crossing my fingers—superstition was for dopes—but I did hold my breath.
“He can take a few steps, but I’m sure he can’t do any more, I’ve seen the medical evidence. Why?”
I groaned and dropped my head on the table. “That was my Hitchcock Rear Window angle.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” He laughed as our bagels arrived. “Tell me about the others.”
I ticked them off on my fingers. “There was also the Woman Scorned—your almost-girlfriend; the Youth Crime wave—the boys from number two; the Teenager Looking for Attention—Davo; your Someone Else did it—but not after last night; the Vengeful Missing Father of Jazlyn’s baby—also implausible; the Doggie Payback—Deefer versus Remington, the only one still in play; the Evil Corporate Manipulation—alas, no evidence; the Demented Cat—Winston the Attackcat, who’s kept in at night; and my personal favorite, Nears Did It. That was Anna’s.”
He grinned. “You’ve been busy. Where does that leave your story? Are you still going to write it?”
“My editor’s expecting it, but I don’t have an angle yet.” I saw him eye off my pickle and handed it over. “I’ve got all afternoon, though, I’ll think of something.”
“I’m sure you will.”
He smiled at me in an open and confident way and I remembered him saying he respected me the night before. There weren’t many people in the world whom I honestly liked—in my experience most were too busy looking out for themselves—but watching Simon across the table, smiling at me, I had a feeling he was one of life’s good guys. Someone who could be trusted. I smiled back then bit into my bagel.
As we ate, I did a mental review of the investigation. “By the way, who lives at number one? No one’s even mentioned them.”
He finished chewing his last bite. “Rafaella and Liz share that house. They’re fairly new and we hardly ever see them. I think Rafaella’s got a job in the government, I’m not sure. But they both work long hours—probably haven’t even met all the neighbors yet.”
“Okay.” I pulled out my notebook, jotted down the information then tossed it back in my bag. “Thanks for lunch, but I better get working on this article. I want to hand it in this afternoon.”
*
Back in my apartment, I went through three cups of coffee and a packet of M&M’s trying to think of an angle for the story. Fight it as I might, I really had no choice.
I wrote the story I knew I must.
Kevin printed the article, accompanied by several of Matias’ pictures, a few days later.
*
Gnomes Living in Fear
By Tobi Fletcher
The gnomicides of four bashful garden gnomes has shot fear through the tightly knit gnome community of
“Okay, dear. Oh, Simon called and said you should call him if you want to have lunch again.”
I really needed to get home and write up the story, but now that it was over, a little part of me was thinking I’d like to have one last lunch with Simon. After all, I’d never see him—or any of the residents of Los Alamos Court for that matter—again. Shame, they were starting to grow on me. Not enough that I’d come back for anything less than a gun to the head, but there was a small amount of fond affection in my thoughts.
I called Simon and arranged to meet him at the same place as yesterday, said goodbye to Dot, and drove to the Green Chile Deli.
Simon walked into the deli a moment behind me and, after a smiled greeting, we each ordered the same bagels as the day before.
“How’s the investigation going?” he asked when we’d found a table.
I hung my bag on the back of my chair and sighed. “Not so good. I’ve now considered and rejected ten theories.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You came up with that many?”
“Actually, your neighbors did. Although two aren’t ruled out completely … How sure are you that your father-in-law can’t walk?” I resisted crossing my fingers—superstition was for dopes—but I did hold my breath.
“He can take a few steps, but I’m sure he can’t do any more, I’ve seen the medical evidence. Why?”
I groaned and dropped my head on the table. “That was my Hitchcock Rear Window angle.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” He laughed as our bagels arrived. “Tell me about the others.”
I ticked them off on my fingers. “There was also the Woman Scorned—your almost-girlfriend; the Youth Crime wave—the boys from number two; the Teenager Looking for Attention—Davo; your Someone Else did it—but not after last night; the Vengeful Missing Father of Jazlyn’s baby—also implausible; the Doggie Payback—Deefer versus Remington, the only one still in play; the Evil Corporate Manipulation—alas, no evidence; the Demented Cat—Winston the Attackcat, who’s kept in at night; and my personal favorite, Nears Did It. That was Anna’s.”
He grinned. “You’ve been busy. Where does that leave your story? Are you still going to write it?”
“My editor’s expecting it, but I don’t have an angle yet.” I saw him eye off my pickle and handed it over. “I’ve got all afternoon, though, I’ll think of something.”
“I’m sure you will.”
He smiled at me in an open and confident way and I remembered him saying he respected me the night before. There weren’t many people in the world whom I honestly liked—in my experience most were too busy looking out for themselves—but watching Simon across the table, smiling at me, I had a feeling he was one of life’s good guys. Someone who could be trusted. I smiled back then bit into my bagel.
As we ate, I did a mental review of the investigation. “By the way, who lives at number one? No one’s even mentioned them.”
He finished chewing his last bite. “Rafaella and Liz share that house. They’re fairly new and we hardly ever see them. I think Rafaella’s got a job in the government, I’m not sure. But they both work long hours—probably haven’t even met all the neighbors yet.”
“Okay.” I pulled out my notebook, jotted down the information then tossed it back in my bag. “Thanks for lunch, but I better get working on this article. I want to hand it in this afternoon.”
*
Back in my apartment, I went through three cups of coffee and a packet of M&M’s trying to think of an angle for the story. Fight it as I might, I really had no choice.
I wrote the story I knew I must.
Kevin printed the article, accompanied by several of Matias’ pictures, a few days later.
*
Gnomes Living in Fear
By Tobi Fletcher
The gnomicides of four bashful garden gnomes has shot fear through the tightly knit gnome community of
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