Free Vengeance is Mine - A Benjamin Tucker Mystery by Harry James Krebs

selling them at church last Sunday.” She giggled.
    “I always wondered if Oscar was religious,” I said. “Now I have my answer. But please … no tutus. Even a dog has some dignity.”
    She smiled and picked him up. “It’s time for dinner. Roberta said five minutes.”
    They left, and I was right behind them. It was Wednesday night and that meant Roberta’s Mexican fare. Tonight it was chicken mole, chile rellenos stuffed with asadero cheese, homemade refried beans, spanish rice, and two of her special salsas. The green tomatillo salsa was my favorite; the red, which was Julie’s favorite, would remove paint from furniture. Roberta made her own tortillas with an authentic tortilla press handed down from her mother, and she served a heaping platter of soft, warm flour and corn tortillas. And did I say kick-butt guacamole?
    I gave Nora my usual hug and peck on the cheek. She wore a pale yellow pantsuit and soft black leather ballet slippers bedecked with jewels. A sapphire pendant and matching earrings completed the ensemble. I tickled Julie as I passed and claimed my customary spot at the table.
    Maggie was working late again, so it was just the four of us. After Nora said grace, Roberta filled my plate first with a mountain of food. I could hardly stand it as I waited politely while she served the others and took her place.
    Oscar, who had finished his own dinner, came over and sat at Roberta’s feet. She pointed her finger at him. “ Diablo !” she said, and then she smiled and gave him a piece of chicken.
    “Grandma, you didn’t have to say grace,” Julie giggled. “We could have just let Oscar bark for Jesus.” She mischievously looked at me and asked, “And did you bark to Jesus today, Ben?”
    Everyone enjoyed a good laugh at my expense, and I had to laugh myself.
    When we were finished and stuffed, I looked at Roberta. “That was probably the best meal I’ve ever had. You’ll go down in history as the world’s greatest cook.”
    “Thank you, Mr. Ben,” she said. “I’m very happy that you enjoyed it.”
    I had been expecting her to blast me with some insult, so her cheerful response caught me off guard. Even Julie was speechless.
    It was cold out when I returned to the guesthouse. I could see my breath, and there was a light drizzle in the air, so I kicked the thermostat up a degree to take the chill off.
    As I resumed organizing the cemetery photos, the door opened and Maggie waltzed in, beaming from ear to ear.
    “Hey, Maggs. What’s up with the big ol’ smile?”
    “We are finished with the taxes.” She raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Thank you, Lord!” We high-fived, and she came around behind my chair and wrapped her arms around my neck. She smelled divine, and I breathed her in.
    “I forgot to tell you, the annual Museum of Art fundraiser is next Thursday evening,” she said. “It’s black tie.” She looked at my jeans and grimaced. “What the hell are you wearing?” she asked.
    I looked down at myself. “Just jeans and a T-shirt. Why?”
    “Stand up and turn around.” I did what I was told.
    “Where did you get those jeans?” she asked. “We don’t carry that brand, and they don’t fit you right.”
    “I got them at Walmart. They were only fourteen bucks.”
    “Oh for Pete’s sake, Ben! You must have twenty pairs of new jeans in your closet—all upscale brands that we carry. I’m the company CEO. Can you at least wear clothes we sell in our stores … please?”
    “No one will see me,” I said. “Besides, I’m not an upscale kind of a guy.”
    Maggie cocked her head and glared at me.
    “I’ll change right now.”
     
     

CHAPTER 12
     
     
    Thursday morning, I downloaded the video file of the Knudsen memorial service from my video camera to my computer. I also copied the file to two flash drives for Lainie and Netter.
    Marcus Bradley called just as I finished and told me he had made a tee reservation for the two of us at Highlands Country Club on