Free Ded Reckoning by William F Lee Page B

lasagna."
    "Leftover?  From what?"
    "Always better the second night.  Especially mine.  A long-standing family recipe.  None like it anywhere.  Best restaurants can't touch it."
    "From what?"
    Dee smiles, shakes her head slowly.  "Last night."
    "Oh."
    "I was going to have it last night.  But, I lost a bet to ... never mind."  She takes a deep breath, exhales, shakes her head. "Anyway, like I said, it's always better the second night."  Pauses.
    Hunter frowns, "What?"
    "Damn, that didn't come out right either."  Shakes her head, "Never mind.  Get the drinks and I'll run over to my house and get the lasagna, bring it over and heat it here.  We can eat out on the patio.  How's that?  Do you like lasagna?"
    "Yeah, sounds okay.  I mean, you know, lasagna is lasagna.  I've had it.  All tastes the same."
    "Well, not mine, Marine.  I make it with De Cecco lasagna, use both Jack and Mozzarella cheese, and cottage cheese.  Sliced hard boiled eggs and great meat balls."  She kisses her five finger tips.  "Make them myself with ground steak, an egg, parsley and Parmesan cheese.  And has onion, chopped garlic in it.  Layered just right."  She pauses again, tilts one hip, and with a hand on each, smiles and says, "If you don't eat two helpings, I'll give you the best bl...never mind."   Laughs.
    "I've ever had.  Yeah, right.  I'll have seconds for sure.  Believe me.  Go.  Bring it. Drinks on the way.  Table will be set.  See you back out here."
    " Grazie ."  She half-nods and twists her head.  "First, I suggest you go see who that is peeking over your fence gate," pointing to the five-foot wooden fence between their houses.
    Hunter tenses, leaps quickly to the wall of the house, and bolts around the corner to the fence.  Snaps open the gate and finds a young man standing there with a large box-like camera that newspaper photographers always seem to be carrying.  Hunter snaps, "What do you want?"
    The startled photographer starts to reply when Hunter snatches the camera away, throws it on the narrow sidewalk pavement, and stomps it into more than its normal assembly groups.  Then grabs the young man by the throat and slams him against the stucco wall of his house.  Snarls, "I said, what d'ya want?"
    "I'm with the..."
    "Don't care.  You're on my property.  Trespassing.  For all I know a thief, perhaps a demented peeping tom."  Hunter drags the man by his jacket collar along the path between the houses to the front and onto Arcola Avenue with the young man scrambling to keep from falling. Hunter shouts to the still-on-duty patrolman at the cul-de-sac.  "I thought Bradovich left you here for a reason.  If it's to watch me, go home.  If it's to keep people away, do your damn job."  He shoves the young photographer further into the street.  Hunter looks at the young man, "The camera is goin' in the trash.  And you're leavin', now."  Turns to the cop who is hustling over, hand on his nightstick.  Hunter shouts, "Officer, he's yours.  He was either trespassing on my property or he's a pervert peeping tom, or both."  The young man stumbles the last few steps toward the officer.  Hunter turns and strides back alongside the house and into his patio, stopping to pick up the trashed camera.
    Dee says, "My God, you have a violent streak or you're certainly not an especially tolerant soul.  I sure hope my lasagna meets your approval."
    "Well, if it doesn't, I won't eat a second helping and then it could get interesting."
    They stand and stare at one another for a decade of moments.  Then she laughs aloud.  He follows the cue.  Both leave for their tasks shaking their heads.
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    The drinks are good.  The lasagna is superb.  Both helpings.  The place settings are cleared away.  Then both go inside their respective houses, change into swim suits and rejoin on the