“Annabel is businesslike, complete with pencil poised over a notebook. We’re in a diner that makes me feel as if I’m in a movie about the birth of rock’n’roll. The countertops are red Formica, and gleaming chrome-and-plastic swivel chairs are lined along a bar. There’s a shiny soda fountain, and Buddy Holly is warbling away in the background. I’m halfway through my second Coke—I don’t think the first one even touched the sides of my throat on the way down—and chomping through a plate of the best... fries I’ve ever eaten. I doubt Annabel wants me to answer her question, so I dip another fry in ketchup and keep eating. Sure enough, she goes on. “The last time we know the peacock was there for sure was about a half hour before Penny heard the crash. That was before the electricians left.” “Could the electricians have taken it? They had a truck parked out front.” I like to think I’m contributing. “Good idea.” Annabel writes, Electricians? in her notebook. “Trouble is, we have two problems.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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