9ddba8405c712dc705f6095a3ea49417

“It’s all those burgers,” said Marge. “I told my husband we should stop organizing backyard barbecues. All that fat and all of that meat is clogging up my poor brother’s arteries, and soon he’ll be dead and where will that leave us?”

“With Chase as the new chief of police, probably,” said Dad, stoically slicing and dicing his steak. Odelia had to admire her father’s capacity to focus. Probably something that came with the job.

“See?” said Chase. “What did I tell you, buddy? If you don’t adopt a healthier lifestyle Hampton Cove will lose a great chief, and then the mayor will make me chief and the system will break down. I’m not cut out to be chief. I’m a detective, not an administrator. So please take better care of yourself and save me from being the new chief.”

The Chief was frowning at his deputy.“Nice speech. But who says the mayor will make you the new chief? I’ll bet he’ll appoint his niece instead. And then you’ll be taking orders from her.”

“All the more reason for you to lose the flab and stay chief forever,” said Chase, patting Uncle Alec’s protruding belly.

Alec grunted something under his breath and shoved his plate away.

“Aren’t you going to eat those?” asked Harlan.

“I guess not,” said Uncle Alec, his face a mask of pretty petulance.

“Can I have a stab?” asked Harlan.

“Oh, Harlan,” said his partner of thirty years.

“Go ahead,” said Alec, and handed Harlan his plate.

“Thanks,” said Harlan. “I love spare ribs.”

“Me, too,” said the Chief mournfully. He’d brought a hand to his chest, and was presumably thinking about Dad’s words. A quadruple bypass was not a pleasant prospect, and it appeared that Odelia’s dad’s words had touched a chord.

“I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again,” said Marge. “You should listen to Tex. Tex knows.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” said Uncle Alec.

“Is it true that you’re a doctor, Mr. Poole?” asked Marilyn now.

“Tex, please,” said Dad with an engaging smile. He might be able to conjure up absolute focus when dealing with his sirloin steak, but even he was susceptible to the charms of a famous talk show host like Marilyn Coyn.

“I have a mole on my thigh,” said Marilyn. “My doctor tells me it’s nothing to worry about, but I would love to get a second opinion. Can you take a look?”

And before awaiting Dad’s response, she was already hiking up her dress and shoving her thighs in the good doctor’s face.

Dad, redirecting his attention from his steak to Marilyn’s thighs, didn’t even flinch. As a doctor he was used to random strangers walking up to him on the street and showing them their spots. He studied Marilyn’s mole, which was, Odelia saw, a nice purple one.

“Nothing to worry about,” said Dad, showcasing his suavest bedside manner. “Absolutely harmless, Mrs. Coyn.”

“You really think so, doctor?” asked Marilyn, a note of concern in her voice. “When I scratch it my left ear tickles.”

“Perfectly harmless little mole.”

“I’m worried it might be cancer.”

“Well, I can assure you that it’s not.”

“Do you think I should have it removed?”

“That’s entirely up to you, my dear Mrs. Coyn,” he said smoothly. “If the mole bothers you so much, by all means have it removed. If not, it can’t hurt to leave it untouched.”

“Thank you so much, doctor,” she said, almost purring now.

Odelia caught her mother’s eye, and saw she wasn’t impressed with Marilyn’s attempts to snag her husband’s attention. Then again, as the wife of the only doctor in town, Marge had had to endure quite a lot over the years. Women practically throwing themselves at her husband’s feet, grown men dropping their pantsin the middle of the street and bending over… It took more than a Hollywood star shoving her crotch in Dad’s face to phase her and she clearly wasn’t phased now.

“Speaking of moles,” said Harlan, clearing his throat. “I have a strange growth on my buttocks. Can I bother you to take a gander, Doctor Poole?”

And so instead of finishing his steak, Tex dutifully examined first the hairy wart on Harlan’s hairy buttocks, then a mole shaped like a cauliflower on Opal’s chest, and finally yet another odd-looking mole on one of the waitstaff’s feet. When finally the restaurant’s owner dropped by and dropped his pants, Odelia decided to excuse herself and go in search of her cats. All these moles and warts had seriously caused her to lose her appetite, and when she emerged through the kitchen and out the backdoor, she was surprised to find her cats fraternizing with two dogs, all of them seated around a big bowl of what must have been spaghetti, as only a few remnants of the stuff were left in the pot. They were all chatting amicably, and clearly having a great time.

“Oh, hey, Odelia,” said Harriet. “Meet the real Lady and the Tramp. They’re actors.”

Odelia greeted the two dogs, and even though she couldn’t understand what they were saying—she could understand feline but not canine—it was obvious they were in great spirits.

“Pull up a chair,” said Brutus. “Tony’s food is seriously out of this world.”