After I got home with the groceries, I still didn’t remember to call Luke. I made a meatloaf, peeled some potatoes, and took Woofer for a short walk. Birmingham is no Warsaw, climatewise, but it’s still pretty chilly on late January afternoons. A couple of blocks, and Woofer and I were both ready to call it a day. He had reestablished his territory on every tree, and I was cold.

While I was taking the clothes from the dryer, though, I remembered. I found Luke’s number on the list I keep in the end-table drawer and dialed it. No answer. No answering machine. I looked at my watch. Almost five. His wife, Virginia, was probably out somewhere and had forgotten to turn the machine on. And Luke might still be at his office.

I dialed the office number. No answer. No answering machine. Slightly strange, but nothing to worry about. I finished folding and putting up the clothes while I enjoyed the good smells of a January meatloaf wafting from the oven.

Half an hour later, I dialed both numbers again. Still no answer. I called Mary Alice to find out if Luke had left a message with her. I also wanted to know more about the angel sightings.

“Nope,” she said. “Why? Is something wrong with him?”

I told her what Debbie had said.

“He probably just wants us to do some politicking for Richard, which I’m not about to do. He has too many teeth and he always looks like he’s just blow-dried his hair.”

Richard, Luke and Virginia’s son, is a second-term member of the House of Representatives so not everybody agrees with Sister.

“This isn’t an election year. Besides, this is January.”

“Oh, Mouse, you dummy. It’s always election year.”

“I guess you’re right. How was your luncheon?”

“Interesting. Two women sighted angels while we were in Warsaw.”

“Where did they see them?”

“One woman said she woke up and the angel was standing by her bed.”

“Writing in a book of gold?”

“What?”

“Like Abou Ben Adhem.”

“Who’s he?”

“Never mind. What about the other one?’

“She was having a root canal done.”

“How did she know it was an angel?”

“She just knew. We had a good lunch. Not chicken, thank goodness. I had enough of that in Warsaw. Broiled salmon in dill sauce.”

“That’s nice. How did you get invited?”

“Half the investment club’s in it, Mouse. All you have to do is believe in angels.”

“And you do.”

“Of course. Don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“I think that would get you in. Look, if you talk to Pukey, don’t promise him a thing about politicking.”

The back door opened and Fred walked in.

“Gotta go,” I said. “And I won’t.” I hung up.

“Meatloaf.” Fred held his hand to his heart. “I could just cry.”

So much for the alpha male.

“Are you tired?”