Waffles and sausage patties, all pre-prepared, and the finished issue of toaster and microwave. Pearl’s idea of cooking. It didn’t smell bad, though. The faint haze suspended in the warm kitchen was pungent and conducive to the appetite. But it didn’t fool Quinn or Jody. They’d been tricked before. Jody had already left, explaining that she wasn’t hungry and would stop on the way to her job at Enders and Coil for a bagel. Smart young woman, Quinn thought, not unlike her mother. He wondered if, when he left the brownstone, he’d smell like waffles and sausage. And if so, for how long? Quinn’s cell phone played a cavalry charge trumpet tune and he dug it out of his pocket to see who was calling. Nift at the morgue. Quinn swallowed what he suspected would be his last bite of sausage and pressed the talk button. “Mornin’, Nift. Whaddya got?” The annoying little M.E. didn’t bother saying hello. “You talking with your mouth full, Quinn?” “None of your business.” “I was you, I know what it would be full of,”
