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Eve And Allston - On The Road

Eve and I are hitting all the checkboxes as we negotiate the commuter traffic into Boston. 

As we go through the Big Dig Tunnel, Tango has his head out of the truck window. Johnnie Rivers's greatest hits are cranking, and Eve and I are killing our ice coffees with a couple of her blueberry beauties. 

We are going south of Boston to Scituate, Massachusetts, a beautiful coastal town with all the New England charms. We are going to visit Hanna Caston-Meyers at her middle school. Eve called and left a message on her phone last night, letting her know that we needed just ten minutes of her time.

Hannah was one of two people who lived in Abernathy Hall in the late eighties and early nineties who responded to Eve's survey email indicating that they knew all three of the serial killer's victims.

We think she is in danger, and we need to speak with her and another person today.

"I don't think I have ever been to Scituate," Eve said.

I laughed and said, "You are now a loyal North Shore person, which immediately means that you view anything related to the South Shore of Boston as snobby."

She laughed, and I continued, "You'll see the differences as we go further south on the coast." 

"The North Shore has a rougher hew of working-class and architecture.  The South Shore is too image-conscious, in my opinion. They opt for the green and white coffee cups, if you know what I mean."  

"Too good for the pink?" Eve asked

"It's too good for the pink and white, even though the chain started in the gateway to the South Shore," I said.

Eve used fighting words when she said, "The coffee at the clown cottage is better than at the pink or the green."

"Clown Cottage?" I asked.

"You know the immense chain that has a clown for a logo."

"They have good coffee?" I asked

"They do." She said

"And it's wicked cheap compared to the green and white or the pink and white."

"There's no clown on the cup."

"You may have to pack your bags and move back to Cambridge."

"Can I keep the ring?" She asked.

Eve started laughing hard, and Tango got excited. 

We are now a half hour away from Scituate.

Cambridge, Massachusetts - The Apartment of Ben Mason and Lisa Tanaka

His upcoming wedding has seriously disrupted Ben Mason's life. Ben, used to getting things done at his home office, found himself staying late at his on-campus office to work. That didn't solve the problem too much because Lisa kept calling to ask him hundreds of questions about every little facet of the "Glorious Event."

Ben would have tried to tell her he only wanted to be told where to show up and what time if she weren't pregnant.

Everything was a wedding this, a wedding that. Wedding, Wedding Wedding. He was tired of it.

Ben found himself biting his tongue and holding back some terrific one-liners.

"Don't you have a serial killer to find?"

"What are you paying a wedding planner for?"

"Isn't your Navy Reserve weekend coming up"?

"Can we just go to Vegas and finish it in that Elvis place?"

He had given it so much thought lately, and it was true. He loved Lisa, and he understood that he had to put up with all of this just once.

When will it end?

Maybe I need a good business trip, Ben thought.

A Conference on A.I. applications in the Military Industrial sector is coming up in Stockholm.

That's a Get Out Of Jail Free card for a whole week.

Stamford, Connecticut - The Condo Of Dennis Mendocino

Dennis made it home in time to shower, tidy up his office, and log into a Zoom Conference call for executives with Gush Simpson Petroleum. Dennis's boss was vacationing in Thailand. He would fill in for her at this monthly dress-down from the C-Suite.

​Everyone's camera shot lined up in boxes, and Carl Fanner opened things up with a question directed at Dennis.

"Dude, what happened to you?" "You look like you went a few rounds with Mike Tyson." "What's the story with the shiner?"

Dennis responded, "Pickle Ball mishap. Things got serious in the kitchen, and I caught a hard-hit ball to the face."

A few on the call understood. Pickleball gets serious.