“That poor dog set up a yammering you could hear a mile away,” Suzanne said. “Even Godfrey could hear it, and you know how deaf he is. Came busting out his back door and nearly filled that boy’s ass up with buckshot!”

Suzanne blushed a bit as she laughed. I could tell she was a little proud of herself for saying “ass.”

The litany continued. Callie McCallister was trying to organize a boycott of Big Screen Video because they stocked a few NC-17 movies. At the same time, her boyfriend had moved in with her, which was pretty hypocritical. Someone had knocked down fourteen mailboxes over on Marsh Road. Tess Kreugger was in trouble with Animal Control again for putting peanut butter out for the raccoons in her back yard.

“She said it was for woodpeckers,” Suzanne said, “but how could woodpeckers eat six pounds of peanut butter? That gal’s gonna get rabies if she’s not careful.”

Dorf was going to levy an assessment on downtown property owners for new sidewalks. The Lakeshore Supper Club had a rat infestation. Sara Goshen was expecting twins. It went on and on.

Some of it was old news. For instance, everyone knew the old mill at Bilford Crossing was still burning — the column of smoke off to the northwest had been visible since Saturday morning. Everyone also knew that Kingston Brown, last year’s Frederick High homecoming king, was about to undergo a shotgun marriage to Carly Knavel. But some of Suzanne’s items were pretty surprising — the thing about Callie living with some guy amazed me. Others were infuriating. Some were surely untrue.

I rolled my eyes a few times and generally laughed along with her. Suzanne was a pretty good storyteller. Just so long as none of her stories were about me.

When she finally ran out of steam, there was an awkward silence. I could tell she was disappointed I wasn’t providing any new material. The economy of gossip worked on a barter system, after all. But that was how I justified my bad habit of listening to gossip — I never provided any and never passed on what I’d heard. Fortunately, Suzanne enjoyed the act of giving too much to let my stingy ways put a hitch in our relationship.

But then it occurred to me that, just this once, I did have something to offer. I didn’t know the person involved, so I didn’t feel honor-bound to silence. And maybe I could get some info that would set my mind at ease.

“So, I saw someone new downtown yesterday when I was taking pictures. Short, balding African American guy with a slender build. You know who he is?”

Suzanne shook her head, looking intrigued. “No, I haven’t run into him yet. Did he move up from Chicago?”