Hank walked in carrying a bag of ice.
He stopped when he saw me.
“You’re early.”
“I work here.”
“You’re never early.”
“I’m frequently early.”
“You’re frequently present.”
“That’s similar.”
He dropped the ice into the cooler.
Hank had known me long enough to understand that direct questions made me slippery. Usually, he waited until I talked myself into a corner.
This morning, he lasted eleven seconds.
“You kissed the tourist.”
My pen slipped across the page.
Captain Pancake opened one eye.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Rosa told me.”
“Rosa wasn’t there.”
“Rosa doesn’t require proximity.”
That was unfortunately true.
“She said the dress was nice,” Hank added.
I looked up.
“She mentioned the dress?”
“She mentioned you stared at it like you’d never seen knees before.”
“I’ve seen knees.”
“Good.”
“I teach scuba. Knees are involved.”
Hank nodded as though that had settled the matter.
Then he reached for the coffee pot.
“Tourists leave.”
The comment was quiet and annoyingly well aimed.
