The Battered Body

ELEVEN

Life in Quincy’s Gap was remarkably uneventful once the holiday season was through. Slowly, life began to resume its normal rhythm of five-day workweeks and fleeting, two-day weekends.

Children of all ages finally returned to school, having spent over two weeks indoors playing video games, watching movies, and sending instant messages to their friends. Their parents, finally relieved of hours of endless whining, bickering, and professed boredom from their progeny, welcomed the sight of the yellow school buses with great joy.

James usually disliked the departure of the festive holiday season and the arrival of the cold, gray days of January, but as the first week of the new year flew by, he began to grow more and more excited about his little yellow house. He had driven by it several times since his bid had been accepted, visualizing how it would look in springtime with the dogwoods in the front yard showing off their soft, creamy blossoms and the redbud trees on the sides of the property displaying cheerful clusters of hot-pink petals.

He happily imagined himself pushing a lawnmower across emerald grass, pruning the azalea bushes nestled against the house, and sweeping the dust and cobwebs from the porch. After tidying the yard, he’d sit on the back deck watching purple martins flitter in and out of the multilevel birdhouse Gillian had given him for Christmas and dream about the seedlings he’d buy for his vegetable garden.

Everyone seemed to share in his excitement over 27 Hickory Hill Lane. All of the Christmas presents he received were for his new home. Milla and Jackson had showered him with goodies to outfit his bachelor’s kitchen, Bennett had bought him a fiber doormat decorated with the letter H , and Lindy and Lucy had pooled their money and bought him a pair of rocking chairs with padded seats for the front porch. Supplied with these treasures and his prized custom mailbox, James was itching to get the legal paperwork out of the way, but nothing he could do would speed up time, so he spent his spare moments quizzing Bennett and consoling the Fitzgerald brothers over their failure to apprehend Glowstar’s kidnapper.

“Don’t buy another elf,” Francis had pleaded the day after Christmas. “Even though the kidnapper didn’t show, we’re not giving up on our little green assistant.”

“The abductor came early, which is totally against the rules!” Scott had spluttered when James asked what had happened on Christmas Eve. “We were there just after eleven, but there was a note attached to the book drop and some footprints in that muddy patch near the bin. Now we know we’re dealing with a female. The boots had pointy heels.”

Somehow, this revelation had surprised James. He’d expected a teenage boy to be the perpetrator. “What did the note say?”

“‘Grow up,’” Scott had answered sulkily. “That’s it. Don’t know what they meant by saying that, but it made us pretty mad.”

“Yeah!” Francis had nodded in agitation. “We had to go home and fight a bunch of virtual bad guys just so we could get back in the holiday spirit.”

“Thank goodness for Age of Conan.” James had clapped them fondly on the back. “And I don’t think this mystery girl is done toying with you, so stay sharp and focused. Don’t let her get the better of you two. You’re better than that.”

Their confidence buoyed, the twins spent the majority of their lunch break printing off pages of trivia questions for James to ask Bennett.

Now, the day before Bennett was to leave for Philadelphia, he and James sat at the dining room table of Bennett’s tidy house and reviewed the cards from the Trivial Pursuit Greatest Hits board game.

“I’ll be glad when this is over,” Bennett said after replying that Florida was the U.S. state at 345 feet above sea level. “I used to like facts and statistics and all that, but now I think my brain is finally full.” He waved at a wall calendar. “All I’ve done for half a year is read and study. What am I trying to prove anyhow?”

“Bennett, it’s natural to be freaking out the night before you appear on Jeopardy! Especially since this is one of their rare live shows and you’re about to be on television in front of millions of people, trying to answer question after question of random trivia faster than your two competitors.” James dipped a carrot from the crudités he had made into a small bowl of fat-free onion dip. He waved the vegetable at his friend. “You should have let us drive up with you.”

“Not a chance,” Bennett replied as the doorbell chimed. “I believe I can run off with a jackpot if I’m as focused as an air-traffic controller. So no distractions allowed!” He flung open his door.

“The distractions have arrived!” Lindy called out gaily, carrying a Crock-Pot in her mittened hands. “And I’ve made my special Jeopardy! jambalaya just for you. Whoa! Try saying that three times fast.”

Stepping inside behind Lindy, Gillian attempted the tongue twister. Then she said, “I’ve brought you some tea to drink tonight. Your mind is going to be spinning like a pinwheel when what it needs is to be serenaded and led to a place of peaceful stillness .” She handed Bennett a purple box covered with stars.

“Not more pine bark!” Bennett exclaimed.

Gillian smiled and patted his cheek. “No bark this time. Just some valerian, chamomile, St. John’s Wort, rose hips, lavender, raspberry, orange, spearmint, licorice, and skullcap. All organic and completely decaffeinated.”

“St. John’s Wort? Skullcap? Are those herbs or rat poisons? Couldn’t I drink a six-pack instead?” Bennett muttered. “I’d sleep like a baby, and it would taste a hell of a lot better.”

“By Buddha’s belly, you’d sleep terribly!” Gillian looked alarmed. “Alcohol interrupts sleep. It makes people have fitful dreams and actually decreases effectual rest. You might wake up at two in the morning and not be able to go back to sleep!”

Now it was Bennett’s turn to be concerned. He pried open the purple box of tea and sniffed its contents suspiciously. “Smells kinda nice,” he admitted grudgingly.

“It will serve you well,” Gillian promised, and then she handed him a yellow box of tea covered by silver lightning bolts. “Drink this blend before the show starts. It’s for mental alertness and has stimulating and energizing herbs such as ginger and a mixture of powerful antioxidants.”

“Jeez. All I gave him was a purple rabbit’s foot.” James read the tea ingredients with interest.

“Well, my jambalaya is lucky,” Lindy added. “It’s what I made for Luis on our first real date.”

“Is everything back to snuggle, snuggle, kiss, kiss with you two then?” Bennett inquired.

Without answering, Lindy walked into the kitchen and plugged the Crock-Pot into an outlet. She removed the lid, inhaled deeply, and then stirred the contents with one of the wooden spoons jutting out from a pottery canister on Bennett’s countertop.

“He’s been wonderful when we’re alone together, but he still doesn’t want to go public with our relationship at school. That bothers me!” Lindy’s round face grew flush with anger. “Is he ashamed of me? Am I some fling he’s having on the side? Some bimbo?”

“I doubt that’s it,” Gillian cooed. “Luis is no doubt wrestling with conflicting emotions. On one hand, he wants to celebrate having his mother’s miraculous return to health, and on the other hand, he’s struggling with that final wish she’d made.”

“Marry her friend’s daughter! Over my dead body! That man is mine!” Lindy’s Brazilian temper flared, and her dark eyes were fiery. “He doesn’t even know that girl, and he says he’s in love with me ! Then why doesn’t he prove it by telling the other teachers?”

Bennett and James exchanged worried glances. Neither man had any idea how to pacify Lindy when she was gearing up for one of her rare tirades. Luckily for them and for the jambalaya, which was being stirred, mashed, and nearly pulverized by the hostile jabs delivered by the spoon held in Lindy’s fist, someone knocked on the front door.

“It’s me!” Lucy announced herself and entered the dining room. She placed a square baking dish covered by a checkered dishtowel in the center of the table. “I made cornbread.” Draping her coat on the back of a chair, Lucy sat down and then opened her large purse. “I’ve got something for you in here, Bennett.”

Grinning mischievously, Bennett said, “It’s not a little green elf is it?”

James poked him in the side with a celery stick. “Not funny. The twins are still hunting for that thing.”

“Hey, keep your celery to yourself, man.”

Lucy’s hand was sweeping around the interior of her bag. Exasperated, she pulled out balled up receipts, gum wrappers, and tissues until she could see more clearly.

“I’d suggest you just dump the whole thing out onto the table, but I’m afraid of what might come outta there,” Bennett teased.

“Like the rest of Peter Cottontail?” James playfully brandished the faux-fur rabbit’s foot.

Gillian took a seat next to Lucy. “Or perhaps a few weapons?”

Ignoring her friends, Lucy scowled as she rummaged through side pockets. “Here it is!” She handed Bennett a pencil. “Keep this in your pocket. It’s the luckiest thing I own.”

Bennett grunted. “Thanks, friend, but this is an oral quiz. We only write somethin’ for the final question and I think they’ve got special pens for that. I don’t want to mess up their blue boards and owe them money, you know?”

Pointing at the pencil, Lucy scowled. “ That is the pencil I used on the written test I needed to pass to leave my life as an administrative assistant behind. It was the most important test I’ve ever taken and that was what I used to get a nearly perfect score.” She smiled at him affectionately. “Now it’s going to help you get all the answers right.”

Eyeing the pencil with newfound respect, Bennett grinned. “It’ll be in the shirt pocket right over my heart.” He gazed at his friends and held out his hands, palms up. “How could a man lose with so much luck on his side? Shoot, I feel downright sorry for the other contestants. No way they could be gettin’ the send-off I’m gettin’. I practically feel like royalty.”

“Half the town is gathering at Dolly’s to watch you,” Lindy said as she placed several heaping bowls of fragrant jambalaya on the table. Returning to the kitchen for more, she called back over her shoulder, “Clint’s been looking for an excuse to buy one of those gigantic flat-screen TVs for his house and now he’s got one. Even if you come in last place tomorrow night, you should be satisfied by the fact that you’ve made at least one member of your town mighty happy.”

As soon as Lindy set a bowl in front of James he turned the hot rice over with his fork to allow some of the steam to escape. The spicy grains, coupled with delectable pieces of shrimp and sausage, had his mouth watering, and he was almost hungry enough to shovel a scorching spoonful into his mouth. Yet despite his eagerness to satisfy his appetite, James politely refused a piece of Lucy’s cornbread.

“It looks really good,” he quickly placated her before she could assume that he didn’t enjoy her cooking. “But I’m trying to maintain a better balance these days.”

“Balance is the key to happiness,” Gillian chirped. “But I’ll be glad to take James’s piece and unbalance my own meal. Bennett, would you like extra sausage? Lindy was kind enough to serve me a meatless bowl of this savory fare.”

“Speaking of balance.” Lindy put her spoon down on a red paper napkin. “How in the world are you juggling your job, all this studying, and a relationship with Jade Jones?”

Bennett seemed to spend an inordinately long time chewing a mouthful of cornbread. He then took a deep swig of Bud Light and loaded his spoon with jambalaya. “I don’t think Jade was havin’ much fun sharing her time with my Jeopardy! prep. She told me back in December that she wasn’t gonna be driving up here anymore unless I proved to her that I wanted something serious, and I guess I didn’t. It was all friendly though. No yelling or throwing dishes.” He popped his spoon in his mouth.

“So you’re not upset?” Lucy asked.

Shaking his head, Bennett reached for another piece of cornbread. James watched him carefully, but his friend truly appeared to be undisturbed by the declaration that he was single once again. Glancing around the table, he noticed that Lindy had now turned her curious gaze upon Gillian.

“As a group our dating track record isn’t too great these days. What about you and Detective Harding, Gillian? Did you spend Christmas together?”

“No.” Gillian pushed her bowl away. “We’re sharing a friendship, Lindy, not a romance. We like to talk about tea and yoga and spiritual matters. Detective Harding is very self-reflective, and I enjoy his company.” She toyed with an orange curl, looking uncomfortable. “Nothing magnetic was ever awakened in my heart when we were together, however, and he accepts that.”

“Just friends then?” James inquired, putting a wry emphasis on the phrase as he darted an accusatory glance at Lucy.

“Friends can fill a lot of voids,” Gillian replied solemnly. “But not all.”

An awkward silence fell upon the table. James was sorry that he had so effectively tainted the tone of conversation and wished he could take back his last statement, or at least the negative inflection. Searching for a new topic, he asked Lucy, “Any new developments regarding Paulette’s death?”

“The lab results came back today,” she answered. “Do you want me to talk about this, Bennett? Jeopardy! is about to start…”

Bennett waved at the television set. “We’ve got ten minutes. Time enough for your news and dessert. I can’t focus on anything until I sink my teeth into one of the carrot-cake sandwich cookies Milla made.”

Taking the hint, James retrieved a platter of cookies from the kitchen and removed the plastic wrap from the dish. As soon as he exposed the cookies to the air, an aroma of cinnamon and baked oats wafted into the room.

“What have we here?” Gillian asked as she helped herself to a thick cookie. “Are these slivers of carrots?”

“Yes, but don’t be fooled into thinking these treats will taste like health food. There’s an inch of cream cheese frosting between two carrot-cake cookies. Milla claims that they’ll sharpen your senses. She even packed you a tin to take on the train tomorrow.”

Bennett ate his first cookie in three quick, appreciative bites. “God bless that woman!”

With a giggle, Lindy placed a carafe of decaf coffee on the table. “I believe you like Milla’s gift better than the rest of ours put together. Okay, Lucy. Fill us in.”

“For starters, you can give Milla good news when you see her,” Lucy told James. “The ruling that Paulette’s death was accidental still stands. The lab results indicate that she suffered from a fatal dose of salmonella poisoning.”

James was stunned. “As in, the stomach bug you get from undercooked chicken or bad eggs? That killed her?”

Lucy nodded. “It can be fatal, especially to people with weakened immune systems, like folks who are battling cancer or have HIV.”

“Did Paulette have cancer?” Lindy’s eyes were round. “She seemed awfully healthy to me.”

Looking grave, Lucy said, “She had cervical cancer. I looked up facts about the disease on the Internet, and in a lot of cases, women don’t know they have cervical cancer until it’s pretty advanced. Unless they get regular checkups, that is, but with Paulette’s schedule, who knows if she saw a gynecologist annually.”

“Understandable. It’s not like anyone enjoys having a pap smear,” Lindy muttered.

Bennett covered his ears with his hands. “Woman! This is not the beauty parlor!”

“Then I won’t mention that the signs of cervical cancer are vaginal bleeding, discharge, and pain during and/or after intercourse either.” Lucy was clearly amused by Bennett’s discomfort.

James studied the cookie on his plate, recalling how robust Paulette had seemed. “I still don’t understand how eating some cake batter could have proved to be fatal. Was her immune system that weak?”

“It wasn’t the cake batter,” Lucy responded solemnly. “It was all the eggnog she drank over the course of the day. Willow told us that Paulette never bought pre-made eggnog. She mixed her own from an old family recipe. Milla probably has it in her recipe box; it calls for half a dozen raw eggs per quart. Having made a gallon, Paulette ingested at least a dozen tainted eggs.”

“Wow,” Gillian breathed. “I wonder what brand they were. They simply could not have been organic. Must have been grocery-store eggs well past their expiration date. Our local farmers keep very hygienic chicken coops. I know, because I’ve toured their farms.”

Lucy shifted in her seat. “Wherever they came from, the ruling is still accidental death. Paulette can be buried now, and the Martin family can move on with their lives.” She smiled at James. “Jackson and Milla can have closure on this tragedy and finally reschedule their wedding. Isn’t that great?” As the supper club members smiled in relief on Milla’s behalf, Lucy collected several plates and carried them into the kitchen with James trailing on her heels.

“Are you really satisfied with those findings?” he whispered to her as she began to wash dishes.

Lucy handed him a towel and a dripping dish, indicating that he should make himself useful as they talked. “I don’t know, James. The factors involved seem so bizarre that it makes me suspicious. If someone knew Paulette loved eggnog, they could have deliberately poisoned her.”

“But that’s assuming the killer also knew she had cancer. It’s unusual for people to die from salmonella, right? And where would a person get infected eggs?”

Instead of answering, Lucy frowned and began to attack a layer of hardened jambalaya residue clinging to the rim of one of Bennett’s bowls. “I guess I just don’t like to be proved wrong,” she finally murmured. “But for Milla’s sake, and yours, I’m glad the facts have made it clear that this isn’t a murder investigation after all.” Passing him the clean bowl, her sudsy fingertips lingered on his dry ones. “Tell Milla to call me if she has any unanswered questions. I’m always available,” she added with a smile.

“Thank you,” James returned the smile. “I’m glad we can put this whole thing behind us and focus on more positive things. Now let’s leave these dishes for one of those long commercial breaks. I want to watch Bennett answer every question one last time before he does it on live television tomorrow night and comes back to Quincy’s Gap a very rich man.” He pulled Lucy into the living room and sat down on the couch next to Bennett. Giving his friend an affectionate squeeze on the shoulder, James said, “The whole town will come together to watch their favorite postal carrier on TV, I’m closing on my house in a few days, and my parents can finally tie the knot. And here I thought January was a dreary month!”

When James and Milla arrived at Dolly’s Diner the next evening, they were alarmed to see that there were only a handful of cars in the parking lot. It was a miserably cold evening, and one of the Valley’s sharp winds was doing its best to keep everyone indoors. Once the sun had set, the thick darkness had amplified the chill in the air. By suppertime, the thermometer had dropped below the freezing mark.

James gazed up at the clear, high stars and exhaled in angry surprise. Surveying the parking lot once more, he kicked at a loose stone. “How could people be so fickle?”

“It is horrible out tonight,” Milla said with a shiver, her breath fogging around her face. She then pointed at the front door of the diner. “What does that bright orange sign say?”

Huddling against the wind, James walked rapidly up to the sign, scanned it quickly, and beamed. “They’ve relocated to the firehouse! They must be expecting a bigger crowd than I’d imagined!”

Excitedly, James helped Milla back into the Bronco and, after cranking the heater to full blast, pulled out of the parking lot and headed north.

Glancing over at Milla, James realized that he was delighted to have her with him. He knew that she’d have preferred to be watching Bennett from the comfort of their den, decked out in flannel pajamas and a warm cotton robe. Instead, she had chosen to accompany James and show her love and support for one of his closest friends. He suddenly felt guilty for encouraging Milla to come. After all, she had spent the day listening to Lucy explain the details of Paulette’s death, placing phone calls to members of her family, and making funeral arrangements. None of those events were easily dealt with, and James could only imagine how worn out his future stepmother must be.

“I meant to call from work and ask you how your conversations with Chase, Chloe, and Aunt Wheezie went,” James said as he stopped for a red light.

Milla looked pained. “Chase was less than helpful about the funeral. He said Paulette left no instructions in her will except that she wanted to be cremated. But I already knew that. I wanted to find out where to lay her to rest, but Chase told me he was too busy to talk about the topic and he didn’t offer to share in a cent of the expenses either!”

“What a jackass,” James muttered darkly. “And Chloe?”

“Whined about the cost of airfare until I told her I’d take care of it. Wheezie was the worst, I’m afraid. Claimed she’d love to dance on Patty’s grave.” Milla sighed heavily. “Some family I’ve got. Without you and Jackson, I’d surely go crazy!” She shook her head. “Patty and her eggnog. She’s loved the stuff since we were little girls. Mrs. D. gave her that recipe when Patty first started visiting her house. She had shoeboxes stuffed full of recipes, Patty said. Enough to fill a hundred cookbooks. I wonder what she thought about Patty becoming a famous baker.”

“Do you know if Mrs. D. is still in Natchez?” James asked as he parked on the side of the firehouse. “Maybe you could tell her about Paulette. It might help you let go of some of your grief.”

Milla grew thoughtful. “I’ll ask Wheezie to look her up. The whole clan will be back this weekend, Lord help us. But I don’t want to think about such an unpleasant subject. Let’s go in and watch your friend show the world that country folk’s wits can be sharp as sickles!”

James was shocked at the number of people already gathered within the fire station’s garage. The engines had been parked outside and the volunteer firemen were scurrying around the large space, erecting folding tables and chairs as Dolly and Clint set out enormous platters of sandwiches, condiments, a bowl of pickle spears, and snack-sized bags of potato chips.

“Come on over and help yourselves!” Dolly called out to them and then paused to mop her pink cheeks with a napkin. “Clint’s too busy messin’ with that fancy TV to even say howdy.”

Plucking a chicken salad sandwich from the platter, James ignored the chips and selected two pickle spears instead. “Did you make all of these sandwiches, Dolly?”

Dolly nodded and put her hands on her wide hips, glancing at the buffet with pride. “There wasn’t a soul I talked to over the last few days that didn’t mention comin’ to watch our boy win this game show. By today, Clint and I reckoned we couldn’t fit that kind of crowd in our place, so we called the Chief and he told us to move the whole circus over here. This is simple fare, I know, and I’ll just pass a hat once everybody’s settled in chairs with their supper to cover our food costs.”

As James and Milla ate, Gillian, Lindy, and Lucy arrived. They took seats next to James, carrying pimento cheese, tuna salad, and ham and cheddar sandwiches. The firemen passed out cups of sweet tea and coffee as Clint wheeled out his new flat-screen television on a rolling cart. Passing an extension cord to one of the firemen, Clint directed the remote control at the screen and gave his wife a flirtatious wink. The townsfolk cheered and clapped as the screen sprang to life. Clint immediately muted the volume of a commercial touting the effectiveness of a male enhancement drug, but not before several of the older women let loose one or two harmless remarks at Clint’s expense.

“Stop cackling at the man and give him your money instead!” The chief roared happily and handed the person at the end of the row an empty boot. “Enjoy your supper, but don’t forget to fill the boot! Any extra money and we can get one of these fine TV sets for the station. We’d get a dozen new volunteers durin’ baseball season alone,” he joked, and he took a satisfactory bite from his roast beef and swiss cheese sandwich.

“Oh, I’m getting nervous!” Lindy exclaimed as she dropped a ten dollar bill into the boot.

“That’s a generous contribution for a sandwich,” Lucy remarked, adding half that amount.

Lindy pointed at a smaller table, which seemed to have appeared from thin air near the firehouse kitchen. “I’m paying extra because I plan on having more than one dessert. Dolly’s made those mini apple crisp tarts you can wolf down in two bites. And if that wasn’t tempting enough, she also baked a tower of chocolate and peanut-butter brownies.”

“You don’t say!” Lucy ripped the boot back from Gillian’s hand and stuffed two additional dollars inside. “Sorry, Gillian, but I’m with Lindy. I need some sugar to take my mind off the time. I’ve never checked my watch so many times as I have in the last five minutes!”

“What we need is to allow our thoughts to drift for a moment,” Gillian counseled and turned to James. “What is the first thing you’re going to plan when you occupy your new home? What will make it essentially yours ?”

James described the few decorating plans he and Milla had come up with together. By the time he received advice from the other three women on what colors to use in each room and where to shop for furniture and accessories, and listened to Gillian’s insistence that he follow the basic tenets of feng shui when arranging each room, it was time for Jeopardy! to begin.

No one needed to yell for quiet in the garage. Even though the slightest sound echoed easily in a space with such a high ceiling and a concrete floor, only the strains of the game show’s theme music could be heard until the camera’s lens panned across the anxious smiles of the three contestants. Upon seeing their hometown mail carrier, the crowd hooted and hollered with such gusto that James felt as though he were attending a sold-out sporting event.

“There have got to be over two hundred people in here!” James exclaimed to Lucy.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” she replied, her shining eyes never leaving the television screen.

Alex Trebek introduced the contestants, beginning with a female physician from Akron, Ohio. Bennett was next, and when the famous host uttered Bennett’s name and town, the room erupted in proud whoops and applause. The last contestant, a Harvard law professor, was the reigning champion. When the camera zoomed in on his self-satisfied countenance, the townsfolk booed and hissed. The minister’s wife was giving the academic a thumbs-down gesture and James was amused to note that even the mayor had joined in on the censure by sticking her tongue out at the television.

Wasting no more than a minute on introductions, Alex reviewed the categories and the contest was afoot. The law professor, whose name was Harold, quickly took charge. After getting the first five questions right, someone from the firehouse shouted, “Wake up, Bennett! You can take this guy!”

As though he had heard the comment, Bennett seemed to jerk awake. He pushed his buzzer faster than Harold and swept the entire category on Official State Things. Barbara, the physician, rallied slightly when Bennett chose the category Bird Talk, but by the time the first round was finished, Harold and Bennett were tied and, unless Barbara really came alive in the second half, the game would be won by one of the men.

During the next commercial break, the townsfolk darted to the dessert table where they hoarded brownies and tarts and armed themselves with coffee.

“He’s gonna do it, by golly!” The mayor declared to her constituents as she poured milk into her coffee.

The crowd ate their treats hastily and chattered with their mouths full, too excited to pay attention to good manners. James found their boisterousness contagious.

“I haven’t had this much fun in ages!” Lindy exclaimed, and James nodded in agreement.

“Christmas wasn’t exactly a time of cheer for all of us,” he said. “It feels like we’re having a delayed holiday tonight.”

With a smile, Milla hushed them and pointed at the television. The quiz show had returned and Alex briskly turned away from the camera in order to direct the viewer’s attention to the next set of categories. Seeing nothing relating to popular culture, James whispered, “He can definitely win this thing.”

Indeed, Bennett whipped through the categories on Inventors & Inventions and The 1920s without interruption. In fact, the second question of Inventors & Inventions was “In 1858, Hymen Lipman was granted a patent to attach an eraser to this.”

Bennett’s contestant box lit up. “What is a pencil,” he responded and briefly patted his sports coat.

“I bet my pencil’s in his pocket!” Lucy blurted happily. “I knew it would bring him luck!”

As the minutes ticked by and Bennett’s score increased, Harold reinserted some of his previous acuity in the Children’s Stories category. Indeed, it seemed as though he’d answered every question until Alex read, “This character’s sisters are Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cottontail.”

“Who is Peter Rabbit,” Bennett instantly replied as his free hand brushed his pant pocket.

“That rabbit’s foot you gave him is lucky too!” Lindy whispered to James in awe.

Barbara answered a few questions in the Lighthouse category, but Bennett and Harold took over on Government Agencies and Holistic Healing. By the time Bennett had answered the last Daily Double, which featured a question on herbal tea, correctly, he was leading his competition by three thousand dollars.

When the last series of commercials appeared onscreen, several members of the fire station’s audience began to pace back and forth in anxiety. James also felt seized by nervous energy. Deciding to replace the cup of coffee he had allowed to grow cold, he offered to fetch desserts for the women seated around him. He moved rapidly, fearing that the show would resume, but his haste made him clumsy and he spilled sugar all over the floor and nearly overturned the coffee urn.

Armed with a fresh cup of coffee and several brownies, James returned to the table just in time for Final Jeopardy.

“I missed the category!” He slapped his forehead in disgust and looked at Lucy in appeal. “What was it?”

“Sitcoms,” she replied, accepted a brownie, and stuffed half of it in her mouth.

“I can’t stand the suspense!” Lindy twirled her black hair around her finger. “Hurry, Lucy! Pass me one of those apple tarts!”

Gillian stopped nibbling at her fingernail. “Me too, please!”

Milla tugged on James’s sleeve. “Can you read the last question out loud? I can’t read those words fast enough.”

“‘The primary sponsor of this popular sitcom was Philip Morris tobacco,’” James read, and he exchanged befuddled glances with his neighbors. “Anybody know the answer?”

The camera portrayed the three contestants scribbling on their blue boards. The crowd held their collective breaths as Bennett frowned, crossed something out, and then hastily scrawled a different answer.

“Oh dear. One should always trust one’s first instincts,” Gillian murmured and began to worriedly rub her palms together.

Everyone looked concerned, but no one else made a sound. When Barbara’s answer was revealed as “What is Happy Days,” and Alex sorrowfully informed her that she was incorrect, the throng in the firehouse breathed a small sigh of relief. Barbara had risked half of her earnings, so she was still in the running if both male contestants had bet every cent yet had written the wrong answer.

Harold’s smug expression had returned. Alex informed the viewers that Harold’s “What is I Love Lucy,” answer was correct and noted that Harold had risked enough to assume the lead over Barbara. Finally, it was time to reveal Bennett’s answer.

Alex frowned as he tried to decipher the squiggles on Bennett’s screen. The first four words were clear. Most of the audience members followed along as he read, “What is I Love …” The word Lucy had then been struck through two times and replaced by another word. James squinted at the screen, but could not make out what letters his friend had written.

“I’m afraid our leader has crossed out the word Lucy, but I’m having some trouble figuring out what he wrote instead,” Alex began and squinted. “Not I Love Lucy but-”

“I love Gillian !” Bennett stated passionately and looked straight at the camera, his dark eyes reflecting the surprise every person watching him was also registering. “Not Lucy, not Jade. Gillian,” he muttered as though he was alone and not speaking to an audience of hundreds of thousands. “Son of a gun,” he chuckled. “I love Gillian.”

And with that, Alex hurriedly explained that Bennett’s wager had landed him in second place. He then hustled over to shake Harold’s hand, the theme music cranked up, and the credits rolled. The last glimpse James had of Bennett showed his friend pulling furiously at his mustache as he stared dumbly into space.

A woman at the next table whispered, “Now that is some good television.”