The Hot Dog Detective VWX Trilogy: The Hot Dog Detective Trilogies, #8

By Mathiya Adams

About The Vacillating Vigilante

 

There's a vigilante on the loose. He's killing people who have escaped justice or are in the process of committing heinous crimes.  Former Denver detective Mark MacFarland thinks the police are going after the wrong suspects, but he is as much in the dark as they are.

 

He is more interested in finding out who robbed a local bank and killed an innocent bystander when the robber attempted to escape.

 

His interest in the case is piqued, however, when a former detective, Wally McCabe, asks MacFarland to find the killer of the innocent bystander. "She was a friend," says Wally. "I want justice for her."

 

But when the bank robber is captured, he claims that the Vigilante Killer caught up with him, but for some strange reason, allowed him to live.

 

Now it's time for MacFarland to find out who the Vigilante Killer really is.

 

About The Waster Womanizer

 

 

When Defense Lawyer Jerry Baker asked former Police Detective Mark MacFarland to help defend Anita Faraday, the wife of Tom Faraday, MacFarland thought proving her innocent would be a piece of cake. Tom had been the head of a polyamorous family, and the killer was probably a disgruntled member of the family.  While it was usually the spouse, as Detective Lockwood kept telling him, in this case, there were a lot of other potential spouses.

 

Tom Faraday had been poisoned. The poison was unusual. It was a toxin secreted by a species of newt not found in Colorado. Solving this murder should be easier than most. All he had to do was find the person who could put newt poison into a bottle of wine.

 

While MacFarland had several potential suspects, nothing tied them to the weapon used to kill Faraday.

 

This was clearly one of those times when MacFarland, in order to solve this case, would have to think out of the box.

 

About The Xanthic Xena

 

 

Nothing on the Internet is what it seems. The person, known on social media as @XanthicXena is not really a warrior princess, but is really Jacob Gold, a graduate student at the University of Colorado. He, along with a group of other graduate students, creates social media havoc, just so they can track information flow, social influences, and other variables of interest to their professor, Dr. Phillip Zovskii.

 

However, Dr. Zovskii's research studies come to an end when his star troller, @XanthicXena, is found dead in a car, the victim of an apparent suicide.

 

Jacob Gold's parents don't believe their son took his own life. They hire Mark MacFarland, part-time hot dog vendor and part-time detective, to investigate the real cause of their son's death.

 

MacFarland finds himself immersed in the complicated lives of a dozen graduate students, all of whom spend their days lying to people on the Internet… and probably to both the police and to MacFarland.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Misque Press
• Release date: Dec 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223445296

Book preview

The Hot Dog Detective VWX Trilogy

THE HOT DOG DETECTIVE VWX TRILOGY

A HOT DOG DETECTIVE BOX SET #8

MATHIYA ADAMS

Misque Press

CONTENTS

Also By Mathiya Adams

The Vacillating Vigilante

About The Vacillating Vigilante

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Epilogue

The Wasted Womanizer

About The Waster Womanizer

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Epilogue

Author's Note

The Xanthic Xena

About The Xanthic Xena

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Epilogue

About Mathiya Adams

About Mathiya Adams

ALSO BY MATHIYA ADAMS

Novels

---

The Avid Angler

The Busty Ballbreaker

The Crying Camper

The Desperate Druggie

The Eager Evangelist

The Freaky Fan

The Groping Gardener

The Harried Hairdresser

The Impetuous Intruder

The Jaded Jezebel

The Kitchen Khemist

The Lazy Lawyer

The Morose Mistress

The Naughty Neighbor

The Obnoxious Oilman

The Paranoid Patient

The Quibbling Quartet

The Remorseful Rafter

The Strident Student

The Truculent Trannie

The Unselfish Uncle

The Vacillating Vigilante

The Wasted Womanizer

The Xanthic Xena

The Young Yogi (coming Mar 2022)

The Zamboni Zealot (coming Apr 2022)

The Absent Ally (coming May 2022)

---

Novellas

---

The Christmas Corpse

The Easter Evader

The Jovial Juror

Get a Free Hot Dog Detective Novella!

---

Jovial Juror Cover

The impossible happens! Mark MacFarland, former Denver Police Detective, gets a jury summons. He’s certain he won’t be selected. After all, what defense lawyer would want a former cop sitting on the jury of a murder trial? But as luck has it, he is selected to be on the jury. But as the trial proceeds, MacFarland suspects the defendant has been framed. If so, who is the real murderer?

Click here to get this novella now!

THE VACILLATING VIGILANTE

A HOT DOG DETECTIVE MYSTERY CASE #22

ABOUT THE VACILLATING VIGILANTE

There's a vigilante on the loose. He's killing people who have escaped justice or are in the process of committing heinous crimes. Former Denver detective Mark MacFarland thinks the police are going after the wrong suspects, but he is as much in the dark as they are.

He is more interested in finding out who robbed a local bank and killed an innocent bystander when the robber attempted to escape.

His interest in the case is piqued, however, when a former detective, Wally McCabe, asks MacFarland to find the killer of the innocent bystander. She was a friend, says Wally. I want justice for her.

But when the bank robber is captured, he claims that the Vigilante Killer caught up with him, but for some strange reason, allowed him to live.

Now it's time for MacFarland to find out who the Vigilante Killer really is.

PROLOGUE

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 4, LATE AFTERNOON

The man entered Green Mountain State Bank shortly after three o'clock. His head was bent, the brim of his baseball cap concealing his face. He had examined this bank several days earlier to determine the location of security cameras, who worked where, and when it was most likely that customer flow would provide sufficient cover for what he had to do.

He had cleaned himself up. He didn't want his clothes to make him stand out. He had bought these clothes at a local thrift store. Light blue shirt, jeans, dark, nondescript sunglasses, and a Rockies baseball cap. He planned to discard the clothes later, getting rid of anything that might tie him to what he was about to do.

He stood in a short line of customers, not making eye contact with anyone. He shuffled slowly forward as the tellers called up the next customer up to an open window. When it was his turn, he hurried over to the window, then pushed his note forward. At the same time, he pulled his gun out of his pocket and pointed it at the teller.

The teller, a slightly plump woman, not ugly but not that pretty, read the note, then stared blankly at the gun pointed at her.

I don't have much money here, she said, bobbing her slightly to the side like a startled bird.

Liar, he thought. This was a bank. Of course it had lots of money. Did she think he was dumb? Plus, he didn’t like her bobbing head. She was probably trying to push an alarm.

Don't move, hissed the man, wiggling the gun menacingly. Just hand over the money you've got in your drawer. And keep your hands where I can see them.

She nodded nervously, then began to pull out the stacks of ones, fives, tens, and twenties that were in her cash drawer. She took her time, following his instructions, but moving so slowly he started to get mad. Before he could shout at her again, she pushed the tall stacks of green toward him.

That's all the money I have. Her voice trembled.

Mollified, by the sight of so much cash, he scooped up the money and stuffed it in his pockets, then turned away from the teller's window. He shoved the gun into his belt, then hurried away from the counter.

By now either that teller or one of the other ones would sound the alarm. He didn’t want to kill anyone, so he had to get himself gone, and fast.

The man hurried towards the entrance to the bank. Just as he reached the door, a customer came in, blocking his exit. The customer stared at the man in surprise.

Oh, hi, she said, eyes widening. She stared straight into his face, as if the glasses and hat he wore weren’t even there.

The man didn't give her a chance to say anything else. He pulled the gun out from his belt and pulled the trigger. The woman looked startled, then fell back, a spreading splotch of blood gushing from her chest. The man pushed his way past her, racing out onto the street. Sirens were already screeching from several blocks away, as the man ran to an alley. He jumped a fence, landing into a small yard. He headed over another fence to the next yard, then hopped into an alley. He ran away from the sound of the sirens as quickly as he could.

The man breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the distant sound of the police vehicles pulling up to the bank and turning off their sirens. He had done it! He had gotten away. He stopped and sat down next to a fence. He had to catch his breath. He was unhappy that he had shot someone, but he had to get away. It was too bad about the woman he had to shoot. Wrong place, wrong time, but it was not his fault. He pulled out the stack of money the bank teller had given him and began to count it. It was only four hundred and thirty-six dollars...not nearly as much as he had hoped.

He was about to put the money back into his pockets when he sensed a presence behind him. Before he could turn around, he felt a heavy object smash him in the head. The blow didn't quite knock him unconscious, but it did disorient him. He grabbed for his gun, but his assailant snatched the gun from his grasp. His first thought was that the police had caught up with him. If that was the case, he'd sue the pants off the Denver Police for this kind of brutality. He felt his arms pulled behind his back and restrained with a plastic tie strap. Then he was shoved forward, his face smashing into the rough surface of the alleyway.

His assailant slowly walked around him. With a start, he realized that his assailant wasn't a cop, though the man moved like a cop. He glanced upwards out of the corner of his eye, seeing for the first time the gun in his assailant's hand, the black ski mask concealing the man's face. Then, surprisingly, his assailant put the gun behind his back, in his belt. The bank robber was uncertain what was going on. Was this guy actually a cop? Was he going to be arrested after all?

Then the assailant withdrew a long hunting knife from inside his jacket. The man held the knife in his right hand. The assailant's left hand reached into a pants pocket and retrieved a Sharpie. What the hell?

Then the robber had trouble breathing. He knew who this man was.

The Vigilante!

He had heard several news stories about the Vigilante, how he found people who broke the law and got away with crimes. The Vigilante always over-powered his victims, then killed them with a deep knife thrust to the heart. The victims of the Vigilante were always marked with a V painted on the person's forehead. A V made with a black Sharpie.

He closed his eyes, dreading what would happen in the next few moments. He didn't want to die! He didn't want to feel a knife plunging into his chest!

He felt himself being rolled over onto his back. He opened his eyes just in time to see the knife coming down. Then, strangely, the knife wavered and stopped in mid-thrust. The Vigilante, who had been squatting next to him, stood up rapidly. Without a word, the Vigilante turned and raced down the alley.

The bank robber stared after the man in disbelief. The Vigilante looked just like...no, that could not be possible! He thought he recognized the man by his movements, but it couldn't be him, could it? He pulled himself into a sitting position, shocked by this turn of events. Why hadn’t the Vigilante killed him? Had he heard the police coming? If so, the robber would be glad to be caught.

He didn't hear any sirens. Nor could he hear the sounds of any cops approaching him. He rose unsteadily to his feet, his hands still bound behind his back. If he could get away from here, he might be able to find a way to cut the plastic strap and free himself.

At least for now he was alive.

He just had to get away from this area as quickly as he could.

And hope that he didn't run into the Vigilante again.

CHAPTER ONE

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 5, 0610 HOURS

Mark MacFarland, ex-cop, ex-drunk, and current hot dog vendor, filled several containers with hot dogs, sausages, and bratwursts. He filled another two containers with hot dog buns, an assortment of whole wheat or multi-grain buns. He went to a storage cabinet and grabbed boxes of condiments packages.

Rufus, where are you? he yelled. I need some help up here!

There was a muffled response from the basement.

What'd you say? shouted MacFarland.

Another muffled response.

MacFarland scowled, then carried the first of his product containers out to the hot dog cart parked in the back yard of Cynthia Pierson's house. Pierson, a detective of the Denver Police Department, had once been MacFarland's partner. Now she was his landlady. She had installed a gravel parking area for MacFarland's hot dog cart in the back yard of her residence in Denver's Observatory Park. He stored the containers in the appropriate drawers, then returned to the house, hoping that Rufus had finally gotten dressed and come up from the basement.

There was no sign of Rufus in the kitchen. MacFarland opened the door to the basement and went down several steps. Rufus? What's wrong? Are you still in bed? Are you sick?

I'm not coming up, said Rufus. You have to go away and leave me alone.

MacFarland shook his head. His friend, Rufus Headley, was a Vietnam Veteran who had frequent bouts of PTSD. Was this one of those instances? He had met Rufus when MacFarland, himself, had been living on the streets, often drunk, sometimes sleeping in the gutter. Rufus had rescued him once, after MacFarland had been ejected from a bar on Colfax Avenue, from a bunch of thugs who were trying to rob him. They wouldn't have gotten much, since at that time MacFarland had spent every cent he acquired on any alcohol he could find. Rufus had slowly nursed MacFarland back towards sobriety, until MacFarland was finally able to go more than a couple of days without a drink. It had been a hard-fought struggle, but MacFarland was able to purchase a small hand-drawn hot dog cart, get an apartment, and begin the long process of maintaining his sobriety.

Throughout all of that long road to recovery, Rufus Headley had remained by MacFarland's side, helping him, guiding him, and providing the support to find the strength to overcome MacFarland's illness. MacFarland felt obliged to return the help his friend had provided him, and when the opportunity presented itself, MacFarland and Cynthia Pierson had offered Rufus the chance to live in Pierson's house. Although Pierson had a spare bedroom upstairs, Rufus had insisted on making his home in the basement.

I need my hidey-hole, he said. I feel safer below ground.

When MacFarland had first met Rufus, the Vietnam Vet had been living in a drainage pipe that emptied into the South Platte River. The drainage pipe was well-hidden, and in all the years MacFarland knew Rufus while they were both homeless, he had never seen Rufus' hidey-hole. Only when the South Platte River was domesticated by do-gooder civic-minded politicians was Rufus' hidey-hole exposed, sealed off, and made a part of the beautified river scene for Denver's non-homeless citizens.

MacFarland descended the basement steps. One side of the basement was cluttered with boxes, old furniture, an antiquated computer that should have been re-cycled long ago (I have a lot of my files on that computer, insisted Pierson. I tried to erase the files, but who knows what some smart hacker could still get? I don't dare recycle the damn computer!). The other side of the basement was filled with a washing machine, a dryer, the furnace and water heater, and Rufus' hidey-hole. That consisted of a bed, a large flat screen TV (when had Rufus gotten that?), a chest of drawers, and a recliner chair. All of the furniture was surrounded by layers of chicken wire. MacFarland had thought that Rufus had gotten rid of the chicken wire, but apparently he had retrieved it and made a secure compartmented information facility, or SCIF, to prevent anyone from listening in or spying on Rufus.

Who would spy on you? MacFarland had asked.

Charlie, insisted Rufus. Charlie's been after me ever since Khe Sanh.

Rufus was sitting on his bed, fully dressed, wearing his Army jacket. He had his arms wrapped around his knees as he stared blankly ahead of him.

Rufus, what's wrong? asked MacFarland.

Rufus looked up. I can't come out, he said. I need to stay safe.

I don't understand, Rufus. Is someone threatening you?

Yeah, boss. Charlie! He's finally found me.

MacFarland shook his head. Rufus, don't be absurd. The war ended more than forty years ago. Charlie is dead or living in a rest home. He's not after you.

Yes, he is. He found me, Mac. He found me in Denver.

Are you talking about those kids? asked MacFarland. A group of Vietnamese men and women, twenty-somethings, had recently visited Denver. Surprisingly, Rufus had gotten along with the youngsters, prompting MacFarland to believe that Rufus had finally conquered his PTSD fears of the enemy he had fought in Vietnam decades earlier.

No, it's not the kids, said Rufus. It's an older man, he was following me. I saw him, boss, I saw him. He was following me. I'm sure I recognized him from Quang Tri Province. I thought I had killed him, but maybe I didn't. He's after me. He wants to kill me.

I'm sure that's not true, Rufus. The war is over. Vietnam is our friend now. Well, sort of our friend. Both President Obama and President Trump have gone to Vietnam. Even Senator McCain, who was in the Hanoi Hilton, said that the Vietnamese were our friends.

I know that, boss. I ain't stupid. I know that most of the young people don't even know anything about the war. But this is different. This guy knows me, and he is after me. I just know it.

MacFarland sighed deeply. Well, what are you going to do, Rufus? Hide out here in the basement for the rest of your life?

No, I gotta come up to use the bathroom, said Rufus. But I ain't going downtown, boss. I gotta think about what I need to do. I need a plan.

MacFarland pursed his lips. I can protect you, Rufus. You kept me safe. I can keep you safe.

Rufus shook his head. No, boss. You don't even believe Charlie is real. You can't protect me. I gotta do this myself. You go sell some hot dogs. But do me a favor.

Sure, Rufus, anything.

Keep an eye out for Charlie. He might try to get you too.

CHAPTER TWO

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 5, 0915 HOURS

During the first year or so of operating his hot dog cart, MacFarland had mostly worked alone, occupying his idle moments with studying language tapes. He always wanted to master other tongues, though he often had to admit to himself that he was no real linguist. He was often visited by friends and acquaintances he had met while he had been homeless, members of what MacFarland called the invisible people. These were the people that the more fortunate people in society chose not to see, either out of indifference, more often out of guilt. But MacFarland paid attention to them. They were his people, and while he now had a home and a job, he never lost the feeling that he was but one catastrophe away from being back on the streets. Back among the invisible people.

He missed having Rufus with him. He was also worried about the resurgence of Rufus' PTSD symptoms. For the past several months, Rufus had not given any indication that the nightmares and trauma that were his Vietnam legacy were bothering him. Rufus' latest fear had just come out of the blue. Was there really a Vietnamese man shadowing Rufus?

MacFarland had to find the answer to that question.

It was nine-fifteen when MacFarland got a call on his phone. The last of the jurors still serving on various juries had hurried over to the Lindsey-Flanigan Courthouse across the street. As MacFarland pulled out his phone to see who was calling, he grabbed a cleaning cloth to wipe down the surfaces of his cart. He looked at the display. Cynthia Pierson. He smiled. He had missed seeing her this morning. He wasn't sure if she had left the house before he got up or after he headed downtown.

Hi, Cyn, what's up?

Really busy here. The bank robbery and murder case is still open, so Lockwood and I are assigned to the team. But I don't want to talk about cases I'm working on. I need a favor. I got a call from an old friend who has an interest in the case. It's better if I don't get personally involved with this friend.

Who is he?

Just an old friend. I had him talk to Lockwood to get all the information. So I want you to talk to Lockwood. As soon as possible. I want to put this thing behind me.

Sure, I'll talk to Lockwood. But it sounds like you're not telling me something. What is it, Cyn?

Nothing! I'm just asking a favor of you. Is that so hard to understand? Just do this for me. Talk to Lockwood.

I said I would. Don't get so touchy! Geesh, what's wrong?

Nothing's wrong. Why are you being so difficult?

This was one of those times when MacFarland wished he was talking face-to-face with Pierson. Telephones certainly increased the quantity of communication, but they did little to increase the quality of communication. He needed to read her facial expressions, study her body language. She was keeping something from him, but he had no idea what it was.

Send Lockwood over to see me. I'm all alone at the cart, so I can't go to Headquarters.

What's wrong with Rufus? Where is he?

He's still in the basement, snapped MacFarland. I don't know what's wrong with him. He says that Charlie is after him again.

Oh, he's back on that? You should keep him close to you, Mac. You need to provide him support.

I know that, Cyn! Do you think I'm stupid?

I never said you were stupid. I just said that you should have made him come downtown with you. Or you should have stayed with him.

I have a hot dog stand to operate, said MacFarland.

So your damn business is more important than your friend? Get your priorities straight, Mac.

Before MacFarland could respond, Pierson disconnected the call. MacFarland angrily put his phone back in his pocket, only then being aware that a customer was asking him a question.

Do you have turkey dogs? asked an elderly woman.

Turkey dogs? No, the ones I have contain beef or a mixture of beef, pork, and chicken. No turkey.

That's too bad, said the old lady. I like turkey dogs.

I'm sorry. Try the cart across the street. He has a wider selection of hot dogs than I do. He watched as the woman crossed the street to Sidney Morgan's hot dog cart. It was true Morgan offered a more eclectic variety of hot dogs than MacFarland. They were also a lot more expensive. But if you had to have turkey, maybe you were willing to pay a little more.

So much for operating a hot dog stand, thought MacFarland. If I keep chasing customers away, I might as well be home with Rufus.

Why was Pierson being so cryptic? It wasn't like her to withhold information. That was one of the things he liked most about her, the fact that she was so straightforward and honest in all her dealings. But something was clearly wrong. Why would she use an intermediary to communicate with him? All he asked for was a name. Was that so hard?

On an impulse, he called up Rufus. The phone rang and rang, then went to messaging. Why wasn't Rufus answering his phone? MacFarland realized that Rufus was not truly phone-friendly. He had spent most of his life without a phone. MacFarland knew that Rufus regarded society's pre-occupation with being constantly on a phone as unnatural and even destructive of human interaction. It was surprising that Rufus even owned a phone.

MacFarland considered shutting down his hot dog stand and heading back home to check on Rufus. But then he remembered that Pierson said she would send Lockwood out to talk to him, so it might be better if he just stayed put until after he could find out what Benny Lockwood had to say.

He was surprised when someone tugged on his arm. It was the elderly woman. Yes?

He don't got turkey dogs either. What's wrong with you guys? Don't you know that turkey dogs are healthier than those meaty dogs?

MacFarland sighed. I will get turkey dogs, ma'am, so the next time you come here, I promise I will have some available for you.

The old lady smiled. You're a sweet young man, aren't you?

MacFarland smiled. I try to be, ma’am.

CHAPTER THREE

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 5, 1140 HOURS

Finally! Sure took you long enough, grumbled MacFarland when Detective Benjamin Lockwood marched up to the hot dog stand.

Benny frowned. It wasn't time for lunch yet, he said. I don't have time to spend all day lounging in the noonday sun.

It's only half past eleven, said MacFarland, trying not to glare at the tall, lanky detective.

It's eleven-forty, corrected Lockwood. What did you need to see me about?

Huh? What are you talking about?

Cynthia said you wanted to see me.

"Ah, geesh, Benny, how can you possibly get that so screwed up? Pierson told me that you were supposed to see me."

Lockwood frowned. Oh. I've been so busy with this damn bank robbery last week that I wasn't paying attention. Can I get a couple of hot dogs? Hey, where's Rufus? Potty break?

Rufus is home. He's having another bout of PTSD. He claims Charlie was following him last week.

Do you think he needs professional help?

MacFarland stifled a cynical laugh. He probably does, but you know Rufus. He doesn't even trust being inside a house. Imagine how he would feel with doctors and nurses prodding and probing him in a hospital?

I was thinking more along the lines of psychiatric care, said Lockwood. Maybe we should go check on him.

That's a good idea. It'll take me a few minutes to shut down my cart and then we can go.

"Oh, we? Sorry, I can't. Cynthia and I are interviewing some witnesses in the Green Mountain State Bank robbery case. Lockwood smiled. It's up to you, buddy."

MacFarland stared at Lockwood in frustration. Then how about this? You stay here and watch my cart while I go check on Rufus.

What? Me? Watch your cart? I can't do that. I'm a cop. There's rules against me doing other work while I'm on duty.

Don't worry, I wouldn't be paying you, said MacFarland.

You mean work for free? Couldn't I at least get free food?

You already get free food, you freeloader! I just need your help for an hour or so. Pretend you're undercover. Isn't that part of your job description?

Yeah, it is, but...but... Then Lockwood brightened up. I can't stay here, Mac, much as I'd like to. I only came to give you a message.

The message from Cyn? I thought you didn’t remember it.

Well now I remember it. She got a call from someone, a friend of hers I think. She didn't tell me much about him, but said that he wanted some help finding out who killed a friend of his.

What are you talking about? Who is this guy? Who is the friend that was killed? Why isn't this a police matter?

I don't know, Mac. I think it's odd too, but I'm just passing on what Cynthia told me. She says that it's not really a police matter. Oh, she did say that the guy needs the help of the Hot Dog Detective.

Cyn said that? Was she trying to get him business? None of this made any sense. What's this guy's name, Benny?

Lockwood shook his head in confusion. I forget. I think I wrote it down. I write everything down. He laughed. You know...in through the ears, out through the pen.

MacFarland shook his head. Where's your notebook? Don't you write everything down in your notebook?

Lockwood felt his pants pockets, then searched his jacket pockets. I guess I left it on my desk. I was hungry.

How do you survive as a cop, Benny?

Lockwood reacted with indignation. If it's police business, I remember it. This was lunch. I only focus on what's important.

MacFarland handed Lockwood two hot dogs. Here. Go. Get out of my sight.

Lockwood took the two hot dogs. I get the impression that you're upset. Is it something I said?

Go, Benny, tell Cynthia that you passed on her message.

Lockwood frowned, then headed back towards Police Headquarters.

CHAPTER FOUR

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 5, 1400 HOURS

Mark! You're here! Of course. Where else would you be?

MacFarland watched his sister-in-law scurry across the street, heading in his direction. Hi, Stefanie, what are you doing downtown?

Just visiting with friends for lunch. But since I was downtown, I thought it would be nice to drop in and see you. Oh, and Rufus. Stefanie looked around. Where is Rufus?

He's taking the day off.

Is he sick? He's getting up there in age. You have to take care of old people. You know they can go like that. She snapped her fingers, demonstrating just how quickly old people could go.

Rufus isn't sick, said MacFarland. He just wanted some alone time.

Alone time? That doesn't sound like Rufus.

MacFarland shook his head. Sure it does. After all, you forget that he lived much of his life in a drainage pipe.

Stefanie looked surprised. No, I didn't know that. Surely you're joking, aren't you?

MacFarland shrugged. I thought you knew that. Rufus doesn't talk much about his personal life. But you're not here to see Rufus, are you?

In fact, I came down to invite him, you and Cynthia over for dinner on Sunday.

MacFarland's brow furrowed. I thought we had a standing invitation for dinner on Sundays.

Of course, you do, agreed Stefanie. But this is different. I want you guys to come earlier, maybe an hour earlier.

Why?

Stefanie didn't answer his question. She often seemed to avoid answering his questions. I need you to be sure to invite Robert and Jacqueline, too. They have to come. It's absolutely critical that they come too. You can do that, can't you?

I haven't spoken to Robert in a few days, said MacFarland. I don't know what his plans are. All I know is that he and Jacqueline are still looking for an apartment. Rents are outrageous in Denver these days. Do you know what the average cost of an apartment is these days?

They're still living with that detective? Why don't they find an apartment?

Didn't he just explain why? Yes, they still are. So what is so important that you want us there an hour earlier?

I want to discuss plans for the wedding, of course.

MacFarland blinked in confusion. The wedding? Robert and Jacqueline's wedding? Is that what you're talking about?

Yes, Mark. What other wedding is there?

I think Benny and Deanna were planning on getting married... said MacFarland hesitantly.

Stefanie's eyes widened. Two weddings? Wow, that's fantastic! Oh, then you have to invite them too! I can plan both of them.

Whoa, wait a minute! I don't think they want you to plan their weddings.

Are they planning a double wedding? That would be so fantastic! What theme do they want? Do they want a December wedding? November would be a terrible time to have a wedding. Too many holidays!

MacFarland frowned, squinting at his sister-in-law. December has a lot of holidays too, doesn't it?

Different kind of holidays, Mark. December was made for marriages!

I don't know if they were planning on having their weddings at the same time. And I'm pretty sure that they were planning their own weddings themselves.

Oh, pish posh! Marriage is too important to be left to the bride. That's when she needs help the most. They really should have a double wedding. That would be so epic!

Have they asked you to help plan their weddings?

Don't worry about that. They will beg for my help as soon as I talk to them. I have so many ideas about what we can do.

I didn't think you got along with Robert and Jackie. Hasn't Randy made some pretty insulting comments about them?

Randy says insulting comments about everyone, said Stefanie, not even deigning to defend her husband. No one pays any attention to what he says.

MacFarland wasn't too sure that was true. He often found Randy's remarks hurtful. Was he supposed to just ignore those statements and pretend they didn't matter? Perhaps if he hadn't made so many mistakes in his life, Randy's remarks wouldn't bother him so much. And why would Bennie and Deanna want you to plan their wedding? You hardly know them!

That would stop or slow down lesser people, declared Stefanie sternly, but not me. I always get what I want.

MacFarland was not sure why anyone would want to get involved in either Bennie's or Robert's marriage plans, but then he remembered how often Stefanie had tried to set him up with potential partners. Few of those liaisons had progressed much further than a couple of dates. Fortunately, Stefanie had given up on that approach to solving MacFarland's bachelorhood. Then he realized that the reason she had stopped setting him up with her girlfriends was because she was convinced he was dating Cynthia Pierson.

He had a sudden, distressing thought. What if Stefanie got the idea of pushing him and Cynthia into marriage? Not that he wouldn’t like that, but a guy liked to make those decisions for himself. He had to dissuade his sister-in-law from pursuing this marriage-planning fiasco.

I don't know if Robert and Jacqueline can come over on Sunday. They might be going to Las Vegas.

Of course that was not true. He had no idea what plans Robert and Jackie had for this weekend. He was fairly certain, however, that those plans did not include going to the Cooper residence to discuss marriage plans. Not it he could do anything about it.

Do I have to do everything, Mark? I simply wanted to make sure that you and Cynthia came. If you're too busy-- she made the words too busy sound like a curse --to make a few calls, very well, I'll do it myself. So much for family. It's as though you don't even care about your brother. Don't you want him to get married?

I don't care if he gets married. No, that's not what I meant. I mean, sure, he can get married, but why does that have to involve me?

Aren't you going to be his best man?

I don't know. He hasn't asked me. I don't think he has. You're catching me at a bad time, Stef. Rufus isn't here, and I have a lot of work.

Stefanie looked around. There were no other people in sight. Yeah, you're really busy. How could I miss the crowd of customers clamoring for your damn hot dogs? Just make sure you and Cynthia are at my house early on Sunday. And be sure to bring Rufus!

CHAPTER FIVE

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 6, 0950 HOURS

Saturday was a different day.

First, Rufus came up from the basement and, without a word, helped MacFarland get the hot dog cart ready. MacFarland, in turn, maintained his silence, realizing that if Rufus wanted to talk about what had frightened him, he would bring the topic up in his own good time. It was never a good idea to put too much pressure on someone whose mental state was so precarious.

The second thing that made this a different, a better day, was that all the concerns about marriage plans had faded into the past. MacFarland had finally convinced himself that both Jacqueline and Deanna wanted June weddings, not December weddings. Stefanie was just getting ahead of herself. There was no reason to worry about Stefanie's dinner plans. He just had to remember to tell Pierson that they had to be there an hour earlier. Yeah, that was going to be a pleasant conversation.

Oh, and third, he needed to make sure Rufus came to dinner on Sunday.

Well, he could take care of that one right now.

Rufus, Stefanie stopped by the cart yesterday. She wants to make sure that you come to Sunday dinner tomorrow.

Rufus nodded.

She wants us to come an hour earlier than usual, added MacFarland.

Sure, boss. What are these? Turkey dogs? Since when are we selling turkey dogs?

I picked those up last night. I had a customer who wanted turkey dogs and was upset that we didn't carry them.

Rufus put the package of turkey dogs into a container. I guess we got them now.

It's good to have Rufus back with me, thought MacFarland, smiling to himself.

It was still cold, partly cloudy, and windy. It had rained the previous night, turning into light snow in the early morning hours. There were few customers on the street, most people waiting until the day warmed up before heading out.

A gust of wind blasted MacFarland and Rufus, but it carried Detective Pierson closer to the corner where MacFarland and Rufus positioned the cart.

Got any coffee, Mac?

Plenty. You're our first customer this morning.

Pierson took the cup Rufus held out to her. I wouldn't really call me a customer. I just came out here to clear my head.

I thought you were supposed to be off today, said MacFarland.

Pierson shook her head. Can't afford to take time off. Too many major cases to handle.

Oh? Care to share? asked MacFarland.

Sure, why not? Maybe you can suggest something I haven't thought of. My case is a serial killer. We're having problems profiling him because all of the victims are dramatically different from each other.

How do you know it's the same killer? asked MacFarland.

Pierson gave him a questioning look. Do you really not watch the news? All of the victims were killed with the same kind of weapon, a hunting knife. And all of the victims had a V drawn on their foreheads with a magic marker.

I seen the news stories about that guy, said Rufus. They call him the Vigilante Killer.

Pierson scowled. Yes, the Vigilante Killer. I hate that name. It makes him sound almost socially acceptable. The guy is a killer, pure and simple. I refuse to dignify him with any kind of a glorified label.

How many victims are there? asked MacFarland, trying to stifle a rift between Pierson and Rufus. He didn't want Rufus heading back down into his hidey-hole.

Three that we know of. The first was on August 15. A man who had just gotten freed on a technicality was found dead from a knife wound in the heart. He had been charged with raping eight women and killing one of them, but the police bungled the chain of evidence and his trial was thrown out. He was found in the backyard of his home, stabbed in the chest and the V on his forehead. The second occurred on September 12. A man had kidnapped a toddler. He was found in the vehicle he had car-jacked, stabbed in the chest. With the V written on his forehead.

The V stands for Vigilante, Rufus piped up helpfully.

We don't know what the V stands for, Rufus. The media has made that connection, but we don't really know.

Rufus shrugged. Maybe it stands for Vendetta. V for Vendetta, you know.

We'll find out what the hell V stands for when we catch the bastard, snapped Pierson.

MacFarland tried to mollify his two friends. You said there was a third victim?

Pierson nodded. This is the only one where we have a witness. At least, he claims he's a witness.

MacFarland cocked his head, indicating his interest.

On September 22, Kyle Morton was out late at night. He claims he was attacked by Tomas Palmira, who tried to mug him. According to Morton's testimony, when he regained consciousness, Palmira was dead, stabbed in the heart and a V written on his forehead. The police arrived in time to find Morton over the body. At first he was our prime suspect in the murder.

The police didn't buy his account?

Not at first. They found the Sharpie that was used to draw the V on the ground near the body. It had only one set of prints on it -- Morton's. He said he picked it up before he realized what it was.

What about the knife?

No sign of it. We searched all over.

I take it that you don't buy Morton's story?

Pierson shrugged. He did have a wound on his head that was consistent with a struggle between him and Palmira. But the lack of a weapon is hard to get around.

Could these be copycat killings?

Not likely, said Pierson. The crime scenes are all remarkably clean. No forensic evidence other than the knife wound. We're trying to see if the chemicals in the Sharpie might give us a clue, but so far nothing. If any of the killings was a copycat killing, we'd expect to find some slight differences in the crime scenes.

Are any of the other victims related to Palmira or to Morton?

Not that we can tell. We're still going down that path. As I said, this is a profiling nightmare.

Are these murders related to the bank killing that Lockwood said he's working on? asked MacFarland.

Pierson shook her head. Nope, completely unrelated. That's one of the things that Benny is pissed off about. Pierson smiled. I got the Vigilante killer, and he got stuck with the simple bank robbery killing. He feels cheated.

Rufus burst out laughing. Ha! You did call him the Vigilante Killer! You agree with the TV people!

Pierson glared at Rufus. It's too cold to stay out here and put up with this kind of crap, she said angrily. She started to walk back to Police Headquarters.

Oh, Cyn, before you run off. Stefanie wants us to come over earlier tomorrow for Sunday dinner. She wants us there by five o'clock.

Pierson looked annoyed. That's kind of early for dinner, isn't it? I might be busy.

She wants to plan Robert's and Benny's weddings.

Pierson slapped her forehead. Oh, that's all I need. In that case, I’ll definitely be too busy.

I don't think you want Stefanie pissed off at you, Cyn.

Pierson didn't respond, but turned around and hurried back to work.

I didn't know Benny and Robert were getting married, said Rufus. What happened to their girlfriends?

They're not getting married to each other-- Oh, you're pulling my leg, aren't you?

Rufus smiled. It's so easy to get you, boss.

CHAPTER SIX

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 6, 1155 HOURS

There sure isn't much of a lunch crowd, grumbled Rufus, looking up and down the streets that led up to their corner. Where is everybody?

Someplace warmer and nicer than this, said MacFarland checking the cash drawer. We certainly haven't made enough to even pay for the gas we used to get down here.

We need warmer weather to bring the customers out, said Rufus.

We don't control the weather, Rufus. Winter is coming. Maybe we should consider cutting back how many days we're out here.

What about our homeless friends? asked Rufus, concern written on his face.

MacFarland nodded. We're not going to abandon them, Rufus, don't worry. We'll work something out.

The two men were silent for a few minutes, sitting in lawn chairs, lost in their own private thoughts. Finally, Rufus spoke up. Hey, boss, what'd you think about that vigilante guy the lady cop was talking about?

What do you mean, what do I think about him? What's there to think about?

I mean, is he a hero or is he a bad guy?

He's a bad guy, of course. MacFarland snorted. It was pretty obvious to him that anyone who took someone else's life was not a good guy. The question didn't even have merit. MacFarland stared at his friend. Surely you don't agree with him, do you?

I'm trying to figure out what I think, said Rufus. I mean, look at the things he's done. He killed someone that got off Scot free after killing a girl. Don't you think she deserved to get some justice?

MacFarland frowned. Yes, of course she deserved justice. But justice has to come through a process. A legal process. People just can't take the law into their own hands. What kind of a society would we have then?

But if the law don't work, what are people supposed to do? Rufus nodded decisively. They gotta take the law into their own hands and do what the police, the judges, and all the other stuff don't do. They gotta get justice for the victims.

I agree with that, Rufus, but if you don't follow the rules, you make society worse. I mean, look, if you decide that you have to break the rules to correct an injustice, what's to stop someone else from breaking the same rule to create an injustice?

Rufus tugged on his beard. I guess the answer is that one time someone's correcting an injustice and the other time someone's creating an injustice. Seems pretty straightforward to me.

I'll admit that correcting an injustice is a better motive, but the person is still committing a crime. There's no justification for that. Yet even as he said that, MacFarland recalled many instances when he had broken the law to correct an injustice. What about that time he had simply handed someone else's money to a teenage girl who had been a victim of the person? Of course, that person had been party to an attempt to kill the girl and had, in fact, killed MacFarland's wife, but giving the money to the girl still had been a crime, hadn't it? You don't even believe what you're saying, Rufus. I don't think you'd take the law into your own hands, would you?

Rufus shrugged. I don't know. I do know that I killed men in 'Nam. They still haunt me, even though I didn't see every one of their faces. I can still imagine them anyway. And that was killing that was supposed to be okay 'cause we was at war. So maybe if I can kill people when my government tells me to, maybe I could kill someone who deserves to die but society failed in getting justice.

No, you’re better than that, Rufus.

Am I? I keep thinking that sometimes if you don't do something, that's worse than doing something that might be bad.

Huh?

Rufus smiled. Let me explain it in terms even you'd understand, boss. I watch a lot of movies where the pretty girl discovers that her boyfriend is a vampire. She knows she should kill him 'cause vampires are generally bad, but she loves him, right? So she lets him live because she cares so much for him. Then he goes off and kills forty people that she don't give a damn about, but she really should, you know, because that would be the decent thing to do. So now the vampire really has to be killed, but maybe he shoulda been killed when the girl first found out about him. She didn't take action, and that led to forty more people dying. See the point, boss? If you don't do something, maybe things get worse.

And you think this justifies vigilante killing?

At least the vigilante is doing something, isn't he? He isn't just sitting on his butt letting other people get hurt. So what do you think?

MacFarland shook his head in disbelief. I think you're watching too many vampire movies.

So you admit that I'm right, crowed Rufus gleefully.

I'm not admitting anything, growled MacFarland.

For the next several moments, the two men sat in silence. MacFarland was trying to come up with other arguments to bolster his follow the law philosophy. He wasn't sure what Rufus was thinking, though he suspected it involved pretty girls and vampires.

What's your thoughts about mercy killing, boss?

What?

Mercy killing. You know, what you might have to do if I become a vegetable and can't do anything.

You're not going to become a vegetable, Rufus. Why would you even think such a thing?

I don't know. Maybe because I think Charlie is still after me. Suppose he don't kill me, but just paralyzes me so that I become a vegetable?

MacFarland rolled his eyes. That isn't going to happen. Why do you even think about things like that?

I gotta, boss. After all, if you think a vigilante killer should be stopped, maybe you think it would be wrong to put me out of my misery.

Don't worry, Rufus, I promise you this. If you ever become a vampire, I promise to stake you through the heart.

Rufus smiled. I knew I could depend on you, boss.

CHAPTER SEVEN

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 7, 1700 HOURS

Tell me again why we had to be here so early? demanded Pierson, her hands tightly gripping the steering wheel.

MacFarland was reluctant to look directly at her. Stef wanted us here early to discuss plans for the wedding. Robert's and Jacqueline's.

So we're supposed to meet them there?

MacFarland didn't answer.

Pierson shot him a quick glance. Were we supposed to bring them with us?

MacFarland stared out the passenger window. I’m pretty sure they were supposed to get here on their own. He didn't dare tell her that he hadn't notified Robert of the scheduled dinner.

Were you supposed to invite them? Did you do that? Did you call them?

It was as though Cynthia Pierson could read his mind. Uh, no. I think Stef was going to call them. Yeah, she said she would do it.

Pierson shook her head. I don't want to spend another hour dealing with your relatives, Mac. Rufus, why didn't you tell me what was going on?

Rufus tried to push himself further into the shadows of the back seat of the car. I didn't know nothing about it, ma'am, not until the boss told me we was coming here.

I'm not blaming you, Rufus. I just suspect that you're often the only adult in the room.

I try to be, said Rufus. But I didn't see Stefanie when she came downtown to talk to the boss. He jus' told me about it.

Pierson pulled her vehicle into the Cooper's driveway. There was another vehicle already parked in the driveway. Let's get this over with, she said.

Stefanie met them at the door. Ah, good, you're finally here, she said.

Pierson blinked away a stab of annoyance. I thought you said we should be here at five.

Stefanie smiled. Oh, I did, but the others got here at four-thirty, so we've been discussing things already.

The others? repeated Pierson.

Oh, yes, Robert and Jacqueline, and Benny and Deanna.

Pierson stared at Stefanie, then looked past her. Benny's here? What's he doing here?

Come on in, we have hors d'oeuvres.

Rufus perked up. Hors d'oeuvres? That sounds nice.

MacFarland, Pierson, and Rufus entered the living room, where they found Robert and Jacqueline sitting on one couch, Benny and Deanna sitting on another. The two couples were not looking at each other and appeared to MacFarland's astute eye to be quite sullen. MacFarland took a seat as far from the two couples as he could. Pierson took a seat next to him. It was only then that he realized that it now appeared that the room contained three couples. I should have sat between the two couples, he thought.

Stefanie came in and sat down in a chair central to everyone. Rufus sat on the floor near the tray of hors d'oeuvres, which he attacked with little or no shame.

We're still not sure if we're all in agreement on a December wedding, said Stefanie, trying to summarize the earlier discussion for MacFarland and Pierson.

Personally I prefer a June wedding, said Pierson.

It's already too late for June, said Randy Cooper.

We can't wait until June, said Jacqueline, glancing at Robert.

We want a December wedding, insisted Deanna.

You want a June wedding? MacFarland asked Pierson. Have you been giving this much thought?

Mark, don't be silly, said Stefanie. Every women thinks about getting married.

Pierson laughed. It's not the top of my priorities, she said. All the best men are either gay or live in New York.

MacFarland frowned. Not all of them, he mumbled, more to himself than to the group.

I don't think we're in agreement that we should have a double wedding, said Jacqueline. I mean, Stefanie, I realize that you think it would save us a lot of money if we combined the weddings, but Robert and I wanted something more personal.

I don't know that I could get the time off to go to two weddings, said Lockwood.

Pierson waved a dismissive hand at her partner. Don't worry about that, Benny, you have plenty of time accumulated. We can carry on without you.

You can? asked Lockwood, his voice reflecting a touch of disappointment.

Of course not, you idiot! said Pierson. That's why one wedding would be more sensible. You have to approach these things logically. Until we get these cases solved, I don't think you can even take time off for one wedding, least of all two. That's why I said I favor a June wedding.

Oh, that's why, said MacFarland, feeling relieved. Because of the cases you're trying to solve.

Yes, Mac, said Pierson. This killer I'm after is a top priority.

What killer is that? asked Stefanie.

The Vigilante Killer, said Rufus, between bites of hors d’oeuvres. You know, he killed a man who had kidnapped a little kid. Just stabbed the man in the heart.

Oh, that's terrible, said Stefanie.

You didn't tell me that was the case you're working on, Bennie, said Deanna.

It's not, grumbled Lockwood. That's Cynthia's case.

Aren't you partners? asked Deanna.

Not when it comes to the good cases, said Lockwood angrily.

That has nothing to do with it, said Pierson. She turned to Stefanie. That particular murder was even worse, Stefanie. The killer committed the crime while the poor child was still in the vehicle with the abductor. What kind of a monster does a thing like that?

If he had taken the kid, wouldn't he be an abductor too? asked Robert.

My point exactly, bro, said Rufus. The boss and I was talking about justified killings, and I made that point too.

Justified killings? repeated Pierson. You think there are such things, Mac?

I don't know what to think, said MacFarland. I don't remember talking about that case, Rufus. I think you're just making this stuff up.

Why are we talking about murders? asked Stefanie. We're supposed to be talking about weddings!

I don't understand why you're not working with Detective Pierson, Benny. Is your job in jeopardy? Maybe we should postpone the wedding. At least until you can work out your job situation.

His job isn't in jeopardy, said Pierson. But it would be a good idea to postpone the wedding until June.

We're not postponing our wedding, are we, Robert? Tell me that you're not thinking of postponing it!

Yes, let's talk about the weddings, cried Stefanie.

I wasn't thinking anything, said Robert. Except maybe going to Las Vegas to get married.

No, you can't do that, protested Stefanie. You have to get married here, where all your family is!

Are we family? asked Jacqueline. Sometimes it's hard to tell.

Of course we're family, damn it, barked Stefanie.

Mom, you said damn it! observed Ryan.

Rufus looked longingly towards the kitchen. Are there any more of these hors d’oeuvres?

They’re in the kitchen, snapped Stefanie. Go get them yourself! After all, you're part of this God-damn family, aren't you?

Mom, you said—

Shut up, Ryan!

CHAPTER EIGHT

MONDAY, OCTOBER 8, 1120 HOURS

MacFarland cocked his head as he watched his brother walk across the plaza between the courthouse and the detention center. What are you doing downtown? he asked.

What are you talking about? I live downtown. Lockwood's apartment is only a short distance from here.

I know that, said MacFarland, annoyed. But why are you walking around downtown? Shouldn't you and Jacqueline be out looking for a place to live?

We should be, said Robert thoughtfully. Say, will you share a meal with a brother?

You are my brother, said MacFarland.

I know, said Robert. Isn't that what I said?

MacFarland scratched his head. It sounded like you were trying to copy street talk. Sure, help yourself.

Robert helped himself to a bun and a hot dog, ignoring Rufus staring intently at him. Rufus moved close to MacFarland and whispered, Ain't he gonna pay for that?

MacFarland shook his head, indicating with his expression that Rufus should just drop the issue. Rufus frowned, but headed over to one of the lawn chairs and sat down.

Sorry about that dinner fiasco at Stefanie's last night, said MacFarland.

Robert grinned. That was a fiasco, wasn't it? It almost convinced me that running off to Las Vegas was the right idea after all.

Are you seriously thinking of doing that? asked MacFarland.

Robert shook his head. No, I don't think Jackie would be happy with that option. You know how it is with women. They dream about getting married all their lives. It would be a bad way to start out by cheating them out of that dream.

That sounds right decent of you, Robert, laughed MacFarland.

I have my moments, said Robert. Just don't tell anyone. I don't want to have a reputation I can't live up to.

Don't worry, your reputation is safe with me. I don't plan on trumpeting your virtues.

Robert smiled. That's the brother I know and love. So, when are you and Cynthia going to get married?

MacFarland froze. What makes you think that we're going to get married? Did she say something to you?

No, not to me.

To Jacqueline?

Well, maybe.

What did she say? If you know something or heard something, tell me!

It's not so much that I heard anything, Mark. I'm just interpreting comments that Cynthia and Jackie had.

That's what I want to know about. What did Cynthia say?

Nothing specific, said Robert, beginning to hem and haw. I wasn't really part of the discussion, so I can't be certain. Can I have another hot dog?

No!

"I remember better on a full