e9c12ac8d703d9a536f23183edf8b22c

And while Harriet and Brutus discussed the merits and demerits of Marvel movies, I watched Tex take a sip from his third glass of wine, then take another, bigger sip, and finally, while he thought no one was looking, drain the whole glass in one go!

“I think Tex is an alcoholic, Max,” said Dooley now, who’d watched the same spectacle unfold. “I think he’s one of those closet alcoholics, the ones nobody knows are alcoholics until it’s too late.”

“Do you really think so?” I asked as Tex grabbed hold of the bottle and poured himself a fourth glass!

“They call them functioning alcoholics, on account of the fact that they can keep functioning as if nothing is wrong, but meanwhile they’re hiding bottles of liquor all over the house and taking sips whenever they think nobody’s watching. I’ll bet that Tex has a bottle of Johnny Walker tucked away in the bottom drawer of his office, and in between two patients he takes a snifter.”

I laughed.“A snifter! Where did you pick up that word, Dooley?”

“General Hospital,” said Dooley proudly. “Doctor Franklin was a closet alcoholic, until one day he was so drunk he accidentally took out a person’s liver while he should have taken out his spleen—or was it the other way around?”

“You can’t just take out a person’s liver or spleen, Dooley,” said Harriet. “Everybody knows that.”

“Yeah, you can’t take out a spleen or liver without putting another one in its place,” said Brutus.

“Well, he took out something he shouldn’t have taken out and the person died and that’s how everyone found out he was an alcoholic. And if Tex isn’t careful, the same thing is going to happen to him.”

We all stared at Odelia’s dad now, whose face was flushed, and even his crop of white air had a pink tinge—or maybe I was simply seeing things.

“I think we need to organize an intervention,” said Brutus. “Because Dooley is right. Doctors and alcohol don’t mix. What if he accentually kills a person on his operating table?”

“Tex doesn’t operate,” I pointed out. “He’s not a surgeon.” But Brutus was right. If Tex was turning into one of those closet alcoholics, an intervention probably wasn’t a bad idea.

“First we need proof,” Brutus continued. “We can’t just go around accusing the guy of being an alcoholic. We need to dig out his bottles and show them to the others, otherwise they won’t believe us.”

“Huh,” I said. “That’s an excellent idea, Brutus.”

“Why, thank you, Max,” said our friend, looking inordinately pleased with this compliment.

“So what’s going to happen to the Pink Lady now?” Charlene was asking. The topic seemed of particular interest to her, which wasn’t that strange, since the discovery of a million-dollar diamond on her beach had stirred up quite a big ruckus in town.

“I called around,” said Uncle Alec, extensively wiping his lips and leaving red smudges on the white napkin, “and discovered that the insurance company that insured the Pink Lady is still in business. They’re sending a guy over first thing tomorrow to come and take a look at the stone. And then we’ll know more.”

“Were they happy?” asked Scarlett as she daintily lifted a single strand of spaghetti to her lips and bit off the tip, then chewed it with itty bitty movements.

“Happy? What kind of a question is that?” asked her friend. Gran had been watching the way Scarlett ate her spaghetti, and she was clearly not impressed.

“Well, I’m sure they never thought they’d recover the diamond. So the fact that the stone has been found after all those years must make them very happy.”

“They did sound pretty excited,” Uncle Alec admitted. “Well, as excited as those insurance folks ever get, of course. Sometimes I think they’re trained not to show any emotion. Either that, or their entire workforce consists of robots.”

“We’ll all know more tomorrow,” said Odelia. “We’re meeting with the insurance people. They’re bringing in an expert, isn’t that right, Uncle Alec?”

“Yeah, some kind of diamond expert who’ll make sure the stone is the real deal.”

“I just experienced the most amazing coincidence today,” said Marge as she darted a quizzical look at her husband, who was once again filling his glass—if I’d been counting right he was now on his fifth glass of wine!

“What coincidence, Mom?” asked Chase.

“Well, I was at the library, reading a book… about the Pink Lady! And not a non-fiction book either. This is a novel—a romance about a Sheikh and his wife, and how he gifted her the Pink Lady, and all the rest of the story. I’m only halfway through the book—it’s called The Sheikh’s Passion—but it’s very gripping. And then when I locked up the library, I met the book’s author! She was looking for me!”

“Oh, that’s right,” said Uncle Alec. “Dolores told me that some woman had called asking about the Pink Lady. So she sent her to the town librarian.” He rolled his eyes. “I swear to God, that woman is getting more loopy every day.”