Motorcycle Man
“Aunt Bette was sitting at the bar in my kitchen, her fingers flying over the keyboard of her super-slim laptop, taking care of business even though it was Saturday. Mostly, she was giving me and Uncle Marsh alone time. But from my experience, Aunt Bette shut down approximately thirty minutes before she conked out for the night. All other times she was on the go, working, scrap booking, shopping, serial communicating with family and friends and generally making everyone around her tired just by watching her.
She was, not surprisingly, none the worse for wear after being kidnapped. What was surprising was that she and Uncle Marsh were happy to let the kidnapping rest in Hawk Delgado’s hands with no police interference.
“Hawk knows what he’s doing,” Aunt Bette muttered then charged into my kitchen to set up her super-slim laptop.
Apparently, Aunt Bette had been briefed. Also apparently, she didn’t intend to fill me in.
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