Her aunt glanced up startled, and then sat very still, with hands that had ceased to work. She read the policeman’s rueful glance when she caught his refection in his rearview mirror. ‘Yes, but I’m probably chasing moonbeams. Mercifully, John had been sick for two of the three days of Thanksgiving week, giving her reprieve from both his presence and the machinations of Katy Pfister, who was always less active on days when he was not around. They were silent for a time. But if I were dying of thirst, in a desert, I would not accept a cup of water at her hands. “I am. "Before you go, bring me the bottle of pineapple rum I opened yesterday. The future? He dared not speculate upon that.
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