What befits a semi-legend most? What, I ask you, on one of the last lukewarm Boston afternoons in autumn, after a long, exhausting day at work (I clocked out at practically five), with the grisly talk of murder on each and every Bostonian’s lips?
Naturally, I was doing what comes au naturally. That is, I was sitting on my fifth floor balcony with my good old friend, Mr. Appletini, right by my side. I had thrown off my work clothes, every single item, thrown on my silk kimono and plushies, and was luxuriating in the feel of the metal grillwork of the deck chair against my bare naked ass. Oh, and of course, I was talking murder with Missi.
“Utterly unbelievable!” I shouted into my cell phone, while I stared at the hairs on my big toe. “Simply shocking! Who could have done such a horrible thing to RJ?”
“I’m sure I don’t have any idea,” replied Missi. “I mean, I know a ton of people who would love to squish the life out of Danita, you know what I mean? RJ’s a real sweetie, though. Oh!” Missi meowed. “I mean, was. Was! Oh, it’s going to be so hard to talk about RJ in the past tense.”
“I willingly concede, Danita has many more enemies than her deceased husband. However, my dear girl, I can’t exactly say I was his biggest fan. The man did toss a whole glass of spirits in my face last night, after all.”
“And you did threaten to kill him.”
“And I did threaten to—ah!” I shot up from my chair, as if the metal grillwork on the patio furniture had become red, hot, and fiery. “By jove, Missi! I threatened to kill the man last night! Do you think anyone else heard me say that? I mean, besides you?”
In a complete state, I started pacing around my little balcony. Meanwhile, Missi started naming names.
( Oh! But it gets worse. Much, much worse... )