Free A Dinner to Die For by Susan Dunlap Page A

might be more. Then I saw the note. I didn’t want to wait. But I thought she’d make me something special.”
    “Why?”
    “Laura told me to come back later before, once, because she was making me a quiche, not a slice, a whole one just for me.”
    “Did she tell you to come back later any other time?”
    He frowned. “No. They laughed at her, the other people in the kitchen. I guess she didn’t want that. She didn’t do it again.”
    “Does Laura always make your dinner?”
    “She understands. She doesn’t hassle me. The cook, sometimes she’ll let me have what’s left over, but she’ll yell at me if I sit on the stoop to eat. I have to take my plate into the yard back there, in the dark. And the guy who owns the place, he’d like to hear I’d starved somewhere else, so I wouldn’t be ruining the neighborhood here. I ran into him and Laura on the street one day and he started screaming as soon as he saw me. You’d think it was him who was the crazy.” Earth Man laughed, such a normal laugh that he could have been any one of us in the room sizing up the situation. Suddenly, he snapped his mouth shut and shrank back in his chair. “Look, Officer, I knew enough to stay out of his way, but that don’t mean I killed him.”
    I nodded. “But his wife gave you dinner?”
    His cheeks twitched, and it took me a moment to realize he was smiling contentedly. It was not an expression I had seen on his face often. “She didn’t just dump whatever was around on a dish, like that cook did. She fixed me a plate, like she would to take to someone who was sick. She gave me a couple vegetables, more than I wanted, but she told me they were good for me. And she was sorry I couldn’t sit on the stoop.”
    I made a note of that. “So tonight, what happened?”
    Again, his eyes narrowed.
    “Come on, Earth Man, don’t try to second-guess me. Just tell me what happened.”
    “More coffee.”
    I nodded at the patrol officer, but didn’t let the diversion distract me. “Earth Man?”
    “I came up the path from Josephine, like always.”
    “Why from Josephine? King Way would be closer for you.”
    Earth Man shook his head. “Biekma told me to. It was part of the deal. I understood. He didn’t want a weirdo hanging around. He didn’t want his expensive customers strolling out, full of champagne and pâté, and running into me.” He laughed.
    “And then?”
    “I saw the note, and I left. I know not to hang around. I went to the park and waited. I have a watch. One of my supporters gave it to me. It runs good if I wind it.”
    “So you came back at twelve-fifteen. By way of Josephine?”
    “Twelve- fourteen I walked up the path, then up the steps. I knocked.”
    “Do you always knock?”
    “Don’t have to. She’s usually in the kitchen. She knows what time I get there. Sometimes she even looks out the door for me. But tonight she didn’t have time. He was too close.”
    “Biekma?”
    “Yeah.” Earth Man leaned toward me. I forced myself not to move back. “He was crazy, you know,” he whispered. “He started screaming like I was going to hold up the place. But then the cook screamed at him.” He grinned. “She screamed about the noise! He screamed back. There was a lot of noise. Laura tried to make them be quiet, but they didn’t listen. Then he charged out.”
    I stood up. “Show me exactly what happened, in the kitchen.”
    He took a long swallow of coffee, then sat back staring at the cup.
    “Leave it,” I said. “It’ll still be here when you get back.”
    Still, he hesitated. In his world a promise like that was a fifty-fifty proposition. Then he stood and followed me around the corner into the kitchen.
    “Hands!”Raksen screamed. “Keep your hands off things, off everything. I haven’t started dusting or collecting samples, Smith.” He was propping the pantry door open with a hip, camera hanging from his neck, as he swung around to face us. He stared in horror at Earth Man. “Don’t