Free Law and Disorder by Mary Jane Maffini

sister Frances Ann got one for guests, and it’s great.”
    I didn’t really trust Alvin, but Frances Ann was very sensible. “Good. That’s one problem solved.”
    “Two,” Alvin said.
    “Two problems?”
    “Two beds. I don’t imagine they want to sleep together. Bad enough they’re stuck in one room.”
    “Of course, two beds.”
    “I’ll get two singles. And sheets,” Alvin said. “We’ll need two sets of sheets, pillows and extra towels and face cloths if they’re here for a while. We’re not really set up for guests.
    We might even need lightweight blankets.”
    “Blankets?” I said. “It’s a million degrees lately. We’re in the middle of a heat wave. Oh, never mind. Get whatever they’ll need.”
    “A mirror, I imagine, as well.”
    “There’s one in the bathroom.”
    “Not everyone’s like you, Camilla. Some people care what they look like. I think Ashley and Brittany definitely fall into that category.”
    “Fine. Just take care of it quickly.”
    “Bedspreads,” he said.
    “All right.”
    “Pillow shams too, I suppose.”
    I narrowed my eyes. Was he yanking my chain? No. He appeared to be completely serious.
    “I just wish I could paint the room,” he said, looking around. “It’s the one space I never got to decorate because all those boxes were blocking the walls. If you ask me, it’s a bit dreary.”
    Dreary was good, in my opinion. “Too bad there’s no time. You’ll be run off your feet getting all this stuff.”
    “It’s really beyond the call of duty, Camilla,” Alvin said. But I noticed his eyes were shining. A shopping spree was right up his alley. I could always distance myself from the results.
    “Do you need money?”
    He held his head high. “I have savings. I’ll pay whatever it is. You can reimburse me.”
    I was proud of myself for not mentioning that the only reason he had savings was because he hadn’t been paying rent. Of course, we both knew I’d never asked him to pay any rent, and he had in fact offered. We were both living free when you thought about it.
    Alvin left humming. “I need to get a bit more equipment for my cooking projects too. Just leave it all to me.”
    Well, I certainly intended to. I went back to staring at my sheet of paper. I had the feeling I was forgetting someone important.

    “I have sources,” P. J. said, lowering his voice in case any of the Saturday evening crowd of noisy people in D’Arcy McGee’s pub might care what he had to say. Wishful thinking on his part. “This will blow the top of your head off.”
    I said, “Don’t dramatize. And at the same time, please resist the urge to bullshit. Just tell me what you learned about Rollie.”
    “You are no fun, Tiger. Do you realize that? I can’t believe we’re having breakfast and dinner together on the same day.”
    “I am even less than no fun.”
    P. J. lifted his Alexander Keith’s India Pale Ale and sipped, all the time looking at me so I’d know how unfun I was.
    I have never minded being a drag. I picked up my hamburger and dug in. First of all, you get hungry after a walk from the Glebe to Sparks Street. And secondly, you never want to let P. J. know you’re eager to hear what he’s holding back on. I finished a bite and carefully checked out the sweet potato fries to see which little beauty I might start with.
    The fry paused on the way to my mouth when P. J. remarked, “It wasn’t an easy way to go. Shot and then drowned.” I could sense his barely contained excitement.
    “Shot and drowned? No, I don’t imagine it was.”
    “My source said he was shot first.”
    “I had heard that he’d been shot and dropped in the water. I didn’t realize he really had drowned. My own source left that out.” This was a bit too close to that old joke for me. Damn Mombourquette for not mentioning it. Of course, he may not have known.
    P. J. said, “It gets worse. Turns out he was shot in the knees. It would have disabled him, but not killed