“Chuck that Idea Talbot, Pantelli and I poised our forks over the eggs Benedict. “Charge!” I ordered, and we all plunged our forks into the eggs at the same time. Yolks overran the plates like tsunamis. It was glorious, the true advantage of ordering eggs Benedict. Madge was having her breakfast of grapefruit and melon wedges in our compartment. The baleful looks from other passengers gave her a headache, she’d said. After stuffing a yolk-soaked English muffin in my mouth, I punched into Madge’s... cell phone—which I’d borrowed—the number from the envelope. “This is Calvin Blimburg,” a tinny voice said. “Mflgmltch,” I said. “Sorry I’m not here right now. Got something to get rid of, huh? Without anyone knowing, I bet. Well, no probs. I’ll deal with it, and we’ll both stay mum.” “Mflgmltch,” I repeated. The guy was a fence! “Leave your name, or a phony name if you prefer, and I’ll get back to you.” Beep! I gulped down the muffin. “I don’t have a phony name,”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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