{"id":924,"date":"2014-06-16T07:46:33","date_gmt":"2014-06-16T15:46:33","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.kathygrossman.com\/writing\/?p=924"},"modified":"2016-09-28T12:59:54","modified_gmt":"2016-09-28T20:59:54","slug":"the-heinz-ketchup-american-an-ophelia-perhaps-mystery-part-7","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.kathygrossman.com\/writing\/2014\/06\/the-heinz-ketchup-american-an-ophelia-perhaps-mystery-part-7\/","title":{"rendered":"Murder at the B&B. An Ophelia Perhaps Mystery."},"content":{"rendered":"

I guess it can\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t be the guy from Dover.<\/strong><\/p>\n

\"\"

Eustacia Vye of Thomas Hardy’s Return of the Native<\/p><\/div>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Dad! You scared me out of my wits!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m panting, clutching my heart. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Why didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t you phone that you were back in Oxford?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Oh, come on, honey, you know sometimes I get called last minute for lectures. Tomorrow night it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s Thomas Hardy, the Industrial Revolution, and the Steam Engine. Anyway, I thought I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d surprise you.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Well, you did.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m grumpy that I got called Pumpkin and that my sleuthing will be put on hold.<\/p>\n

The Wine Caf\u00c3\u00a9 is really crowded. We can\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t get up to the bar, much less get the bartender\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s attention, so we sit down at a table in the front. Dad tells me about the lecture and asks me a bunch of personal questions, all involving Robert. I only answer a few. Finally, Judy the bar girl comes over.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153A small glass of that Pinot Grigio I really like, please, Judy?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

Dad looks at me. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153You know I like the reds better.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d He looks up at Judy. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d like to try your house red. And could you also bring us some mixed nuts? And some black and green olives?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d He looks around at me a bit sheepishly, then back up at Judy. “And do you have any pretzels?”<\/p>\n

“Sure,” says Judy with a small smirk. “I can put together a nice combi plate for you.”<\/p>\n

Looking back at me, he says, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Your mother always said I shouldn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t have all that salt, but I find the combination,well, it . . . \u00e2\u20ac\u0153<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I know. You like how it complements the wine.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Actually, so do I.<\/p>\n

We talk over the Thomas Hardy lecture he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s going to give. I tell him I probably won\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t go, but, because I’m not a stellar daughter, sometimes I change my mind about his lectures. Actually, he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s pretty smart, though I hate to admit it. He even lived in Dorchester for a few years after Mom died to get a feel for the countryside Hardy wrote about. Mom was more of a Sylvia Plath gal. She didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t get the romantic writers.<\/p>\n

After a while, Judy brings the bill, and Dad quickly pays and stands.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m in town a few more days, Punkin\u00e2\u20ac\u2122. Can I buy you lunch somewhere? The Eagle and Child?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I look into his eyes. Eyes that are light brown like mine.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Well, how about 2 o\u00e2\u20ac\u2122clock at the Eagle and Child?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

He stands and shakes my hand. Dad\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s not a hugging kind of guy. I watch him take his coat from the rack and go out the door. Then I watch him go into Mamma Mia Pizza, kitty corner across the street. Pizza was another thing Mom thought he shouldn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t eat, but is he meeting somebody? Maybe asking them questions about me? Or just hungry? I finish my wine and, as I pull down my cardigan from the rack, I notice Dad\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s coming back out the pizzeria door with a large pizza box. Is he meeting someone who likes pizza? Parents can be such a mystery. He turns south toward the bus stop. At least I assume he takes the bus somewhere. Some fancy hotel probably.<\/p>\n

I circle north around the wine caf\u00c3\u00a9 to avoid Dad seeing me watch him. It’s just starting to drizzle as I let myself into the entry to the house and climb the stairs to my room. My cell rings. My caller ID says “Robert Perhaps.” I sigh and pick up.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Hey, Ophelia. It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s me.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I know.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Well, yeah. Um, well, how are you?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I’m silent as I count to ten.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Okay, well, I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll just get to it. I wondered if you could take care of Ti Jean a few more days.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Like till when?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Well, over the weekend. Till Monday. Wednesday at the latest<\/em>.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153So, is it Monday or Wednesday?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll call you when I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m back in town. How\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s that? Okay?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Wednesday at the latest, Robert. You can\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t do this to me again.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I won\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll call by Wednesday at the latest.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153No, you\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re going to be here to pick up Ti Jean on Wednesday at the latest.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Yeah, sure, Wednesday. Whatever you say.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153And I took him to the vet, so your half is 30 pounds. And I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d like that in cash.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

He starts to say something, but I hang up.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I guess it can\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t be the guy from Dover. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Dad! You scared me out of my wits!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m panting, clutching my heart. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Why didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t you phone that you were back in Oxford?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Oh, come on, honey, you know sometimes I get called last minute for lectures. Tomorrow night it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s Thomas Hardy, the Industrial Revolution, and […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[14,12],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-924","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-murder-at-the-bb","category-ophelia-perhaps-mystery"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.kathygrossman.com\/writing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/924","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.kathygrossman.com\/writing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.kathygrossman.com\/writing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.kathygrossman.com\/writing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.kathygrossman.com\/writing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=924"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/www.kathygrossman.com\/writing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/924\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1130,"href":"https:\/\/www.kathygrossman.com\/writing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/924\/revisions\/1130"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.kathygrossman.com\/writing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=924"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.kathygrossman.com\/writing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=924"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.kathygrossman.com\/writing\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=924"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}