Now they sat in a booth in the rear corner of the Westbury House of Pizza, the town’s only restaurant. The Formica tables were worn but clean, and the Greeks who ran the place made a thin crust to die for. “Thanks for springing me, Cameron.” Albert sipped his glass of red wine. He waved at a couple who sat across the room. Cam finished chewing her bite of pizza, with a piece of anchovy sparking a salty taste. “I didn’t want to sit in the Moran dining room with you and have everybody stare at me.” “I didn’t particularly want to make small talk in the dining room, either. I’m not in the best of spirits, with Beverly dead. May she rest in peace.” “I’m so sorry, Uncle Albert. I know you and she were friends.” Cam reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “I’ll admit I’ve heard talk going around the place about poisoned produce. All hogwash, but still.” He helped himself to a second slice from the platter in the middle of the table. “My, this is tasty.
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