Monday morning, Jacques rode to work, promising to come home for lunch with any developments or ideas at his end. Hilda and Jack promised to call if the authorities came up with anything. He made sure that he had their cell numbers before he left. Continue reading
Sitting out in the restaurant, Jack paid the bill. They waited.
“Jack,” said Hilda. “Did you notice the two men at the bar?”
“Not the same ones.”
“Yeah, but guys don’t go to the restroom together.” Continue reading
The next morning, Jack and Hilda were surprised to wake up well after dawn. Donning the white terry bathrobes and slippers on the bathroom door, they crept downstairs to find that no one was stirring in the house. Jack started the kettle while Hilda scooped coffee into the French press on the counter. They were putting out some juice and dishes when Emily came into the kitchen, also in a robe. Continue reading
“Remember Maryse?” asked Hilda, as they snapped the loose dirt off the ground cloth and folded it.
“No. Should I?” Jack wiggled his eyebrows. Hilda rolled her eyes. Continue reading
“Don’t you just love small towns?” said Bill, as passed the local paper to them over breakfast. The Hartford Courant ran an article in the “Courant Community” about the police response to the supermarket, with a photo of the police cruisers outside, and full descriptions of the Fab Four. “I also got an alert on the Patch, which is a local on-line newspaper. These guys won’t have anywhere to hide.” Continue reading
“Good thing it’s Saturday,” said Hilda as they discussed the route over breakfast. “The last time I was here, getting past New Haven was an off-road adventure in a construction zone. We might be able to get through today.” Continue reading