I turned around and put my hand on my hip. "What do you need me for?"

He grinned again, wide and sheepish, and I felt some of the frost in my heart melt. Maybe there was hope. He was still good-looking and single. Perhaps his ability to get along with children, witness the relationship with Arch, was merely extended to Patty Sue.

He leaned toward me and said, "Somebody's got to I get her a learner's permit and bring her to the high school."

I nodded and traipsed back toward Schulz, who had gone inside.

"Look familiar?" he said as he pointed to one of my Styrofoam cups. "Don't touch," he admonished. "Just peek inside."

I did as ordered and saw an almost empty coffee cup with what looked like about twenty little green pellets on the bottom.

"I don't know," I said.

Schulz grinned at me, a wide face- breaker.

"Miss Goldy," he began. "Excuse me, Miz. Your business is closed down until further notice. You served this coffee, you're responsible until I find out otherwise. I wonder if I could come over and ask you some questions tomorrow? I'm a little tied up right now." He motioned to one of his underlings to come retrieve the cup.

"For God's sake," I protested, "what's in the cup?"

He had begun to walk away, but at my question turned back. "Oh," he said, "you just flunked Detection 101. Dr. Korman drank that coffee, but he didn't know what was on the bottom. Looks to me like whoever tried to do him in was using rat poison."

Saturday ended with a whimper after the day's bang. When Pomeroy left, I outlined our suddenly disastrous finances to both Patty Sue and Arch. Patty Sue's rent was her ability to work for the catering business, and without' the business both of us would have to do whatever work we could find just to buy groceries and make the November house payment. Arch accepted the suspension of his allowance with a grim silence.

Even our dinner that night was a problem. I reminded Patty Sue and Arch of this as we pulled into our driveway. After a job, we usually feasted on leftovers and odds and ends. Now the leftovers were being analyzed down at the Department of Health.

Arch offered to heat chili in the microwave. I didn't think things could get a whole lot worse until he pointed to an enormous bouquet of dried flowers on our deck. Damn. One of the arrangements for the funeral or reception had been delivered here by mistake.

But no. The envelope was addressed to me. Inside was an unsigned message.

"Don't worry about Fritz, sweetie pie. He deserves it."

-5-

How'd you do it?" my ex-husband demanded over the phone the next morning, Sunday. "Get your dumbass roommate to drop the stuff in? You tell her they were sweetening capsules?"

"Oh stop," I said. "Just tell me how Fritz is."

"Not until you answer my question."