Let's Talk Turkey

 

 

 

By:  Kenda

 

 

    

     A.J. looked up from the grocery bag he was unpacking. 

 

"Oh, Rick, by the way, you haven't forgotten, have you?"

    

Rick's eyes never left the football game he was watching on his brother's television set. 

 

"No, I haven't forgotten."

 

     A.J. sighed with exasperation at his preoccupied sibling, while storing the last of his groceries in a cabinet. 

 

"And just what is it you haven't forgotten?"

    

Rick's attention remained riveted on the Chargers. 

 

"Whatever it is I'm suppose ta' remember."

    

"And just what would that be?"

 

     "For cryin' out loud, A.J.!   I'm tryin' to watch the game here, and for some odd reason you've decided to give me a pop quiz!  Would ya' just leave me alone until this quarter ends?"

 

     A.J. shrugged.  "Okay, fine.  I'll leave you alone.  But don't come crying to me when you screw it up and Mom goes after your hide with her wooden spoon."

 

     The threat of his mother coming after his hide convinced Rick it was in his best interest to focus his attention on his sibling. 

 

"Screw what up?"

 

     "I thought you wanted me to leave you alone."

 

     "A.J..."

 

     "But you said you didn't want me to bother you until—“

    

"A.J..."  Rick rose from the couch.

 

     "This quarter was over.  So if you don't want me to bother you, then I'll just keep quiet.  Of course, by the time the game ends, I probably won't remember what it is I wanted to remind you of in the first place, but I guess if you'd rather I not..."

 

     Rick advanced on his sibling with a menacing snarl. 

 

"A.J., dammit!   Stop playing this stupid little game with me.  I don't like it any better now than I did when you were eight."

 

     A.J. wrinkled his nose in the way that always reminded Rick of his brother at age eight. 

 

"But it still works as good as it did when I was eight.  At least you're no longer mesmerized by that stupid TV set."  

 

     "Yeah, and now that I'm no longer mesmerized, as you put it, whatever it is you wanted to remind me of had better be important."

 

     "Oh...it is," A.J. assured slowly, stretching out the moment, and his brother's patience.   "It is."

 

     "Well, what is it for God's sake?"

 

     "Thanksgiving is Thursday."

 

     Rick's mouth drop opened with incredulous disgust. 

 

"That's it?  That's what you pulled me away from a Chargers game to tell me?  That Thanksgiving is Thursday?  So?  Big deal!  I know Thanksgiving is Thursday."

 

     "Then I assume you also know what it means."

 

     "Well 'a course I know what it means!  It means more football and lots of food."

 

     "That's not all it means."

 

     "Okay, then, it means...well, it means pilgrims and Indians sitting down together to give thanks for the first successful harvest in the New World.   Which in turn, today means we gather with our friends and loved ones on the fourth Thursday in November, a day not officially marked as the Thanksgiving holiday until President Franklin Delano Roosevelt declared it as such, and we rejoice together our good tidings of great joy which shall be to all people."  Rick finished with a disinterested shrug.  "Or some such garbage."

 

     A.J. looked heavenward and shook his head in amazement.

 

"Well, if nothing else, it's nice to discover you read the section in today's paper on the history of Thanksgiving.   Although I think the ‘good tidings of great joy’ part of your story comes one holiday too early."

 

     Rick waved a hand in dismissal.  "Whatever.  Nonetheless, I answered your question.  I told ya' what Thanksgiving means.  Now can I go back to watchin' my football game?"

 

     "Not just yet," A.J. negated.  "Now, where exactly is it we're gathering this year for the holiday celebration you just so heartwarmingly described?"

 

     "I don't know.  At Aunt Pat's, or Aunt Carolyn's, or Mom's, or whoever's turn it is.  You know I can't keep that kinda stuff straight.  Just point me in the right direction and I'll be there."

 

     "No doubt," A.J. muttered under his breath.  "However, if you think real hard, you may recall that back in August you, and Mom, and I, agreed to spend Thanksgiving with Town and Temple at Town's apartment."

 

     "We did?"  Rick's eye lit up and he rubbed his hands together in glee.  "All right!  That means we don't have to laugh at Uncle Fred's stupid jokes this year, or tell Aunt Marion it looks like she lost weight when we really think she gained it, or tell some cousin their kid is cute, when the little bugger's really an obnoxious brat, or tell Aunt Eleanor her candied yams are the best ever, when they really make us wanna puke."

 

     "You have such an eloquent way of describing our family, Rick."

 

     "Regardless of how I describe 'em, everything I just said is the truth.  So now that you mention it, yeah, I do remember we made plans to spend the day with Town and Temple.  They were gonna be alone otherwise or somethin' like that, weren't they?"

 

     "Yes, they were.  Town's mother is spending the holiday with his brother's family in Ohio, and Temple's folks are going to be at her sister's in Arizona.  Her brother is going to be with his wife's family, and Town's sister is going to be--"

 

     "Wherever.  It makes no difference to me where all them people are supposed to be.  I'm lucky if I remember where I'm supposed to be."

 

     "On most days I've found that to be true," A.J. agreed with dripping sarcasm.  "But to get back to my original point, do you recall what you said when we agreed to have Thanksgiving dinner at Town's?"

 

     Rick cocked his head in thought. 

 

"Well...not exactly.  Though I probably said somethin' like, 'I'll be there,' or 'You can count me in,' or 'I sure do love Temple's pumpkin pies,' cause that part woulda' been a hint for Temple, ya' know."

 

     "Yes, I know.  As a matter of fact you said all those things, and Temple did indeed, pick up on your...subtle hint because she volunteered to bake the pies.  Pumpkin and apple."

 

     "Great.  I like both of 'em.  I'll probably have a piece of each."

 

     "I’m sure you will," A.J. agreed.  "And Town volunteered to make the mashed potatoes, the cranberries, and the dinner rolls."

 

     Rick licked his lips like Marlowe at dinnertime. 

 

"Mmmmm, I sure do love Town's rolls.  He makes 'em from scratch."

 

     "Yes, he does.  And you're right, they're very good.  Now Mom's bringing two Jell-O salads and the sweet potatoes."

 

     "I like Mom's sweet potatoes.  And her Jell-O's are the best.  I hope she brings that one with the cherry pie filling and the cream cheese.  I suppose it's pretty fattening, but man, it sure is good."

 

     "Yes, it is.  And rest assured, Mom is bringing that one," A.J. said.   "As for me, I'll be bringing two bottles of wine and two hot vegetable casseroles."

 

     "Are you gonna make that one with the green beans and the little crispy onion chips on top?   You know how much I love that one, A.J."

 

     "Yes, I do know how much you love it.  And yes, I'm bringing it."

 

     "All right!  This sounds like it's shapin' up to be the best Thanksgiving we ever had."  Rick turned to head back to the couch and his football game.  "We shoulda' thought about havin' Thanksgiving with Town and Temple a long time ago."

 

     "Uh...Rick, hold up a minute there."

 

     Rick turned around.  "What?"

 

     "Did you happen to notice anyone missing from my list of who is bringing what to Town's?"

 

     Rick held up his right hand and counted off on his fingers. 

 

"Well, let's see.  You said Temple was doing the pies, and Town is doin' a buncha good stuff including the rolls, and Mom is doing the Jell-O's and the sweet potatoes, and you're doing the vegetables and bringing the wine, and...oh.  I guess everyone kinda forgot about me, huh?  Oh, well.  Maybe next year I can bring--"

 

     "Rick, no one forgot about you, but you.  And actually, you did volunteer to bring something to Town's."

 

     "I did?"

 

     "Yes, you did."

 

     Rick thought hard while trying to pretend he knew this fact all along.

 

"Yeah, now that you mention it, you're right.  I did.  I volunteered to bring the...beer, didn't I?"

 

     A.J. shook his head.  "No, Rick, not the beer."

 

     "Well...then...probably a couple a' containers of dip, and a few bags of chips.  You know, to nibble on while we wait for the turkey to finish cook..."  Rick's eyebrows drew together and frown lines furrowed his forehead.   "Hey, wait a minute.  You never said who was making the turkey."

 

     A.J. smiled. 

 

     "What?"

 

     A.J. smiled more broadly.

 

     Rick backed up as if his brother was advancing on him, though in reality, A.J. hadn't moved at all. 

 

"Oh, no.  Not me.  I've never cooked a turkey in my life."

 

     "That's not what you said the night the five of us discussed all this.  You said, and I quote, 'Hey guys, I can bring the turkey.  I'll stuff it, then cook it in A.J.'s oven since the oven on the Hole In The Water isn't big enough.  Then, as soon as it's done, A.J. and I will bring it on over.’ "

 

     Rick swallowed hard.  "I said that?"

A.J. folded his arms across his chest and nodded. 

 

"Yes, you sure did."

 

     "A.J., just exactly how much had I had to drink when I said that?"

 

     "Believe me, Mom and I were wondering the same thing.  Nonetheless, nothing we were able to say could dissuade you.  You insisted on being the one who was going to cook the turkey.  Hence, the reason behind this whole conversation you so vehemently did not want to take part in just a few minutes ago."

 

     Rick reached for the remote control on the coffee table and shut off the TV.  "Yeah, well, forget that for now."  The lanky man perched a hip on one of the stools at the breakfast bar.  "What the hell am I gonna do?  I've never cooked a turkey before."

 

     "It's not that difficult."

 

     "It's not?"

 

     "No.  Just pull out one of my cookbooks and read the instructions for roasting a turkey.  Oh, and also the instructions for preparing the stuffing.  Then write down what you need from the grocery store and go pick those items up."

 

     Rick walked around to the countertop behind the stove where A.J. kept his cookbooks. 

 

"It's that easy, huh?"

 

     "Yes, it's that easy.  And if you run into any trouble, I'll be here to lend you a hand."

    

"You will?  Gee, A.J., thanks.  I really appreciate it."

 

     Rick carried his armload of cookbooks into the den and retrieved the remote as he rounded the coffee table.

 

     "Where are you going?"

 

     "Right here," Rick answered as he plopped his butt on the couch.  He aimed the remote at the TV and clicked it back on to the football game.

 

     "I thought you were going to study the cookbooks and make your shopping list."

 

     "I am.  I can do that while I watch the rest of the game."

 

     "Rick, if you want my advice, you'll skip the game and get to a store to buy the turkey."

 

     "What's the big rush?"

 

     "It's four days before Thanksgiving, that's what's the big rush.  Every housewife in San Diego has been out this weekend shopping for her turkey.  Believe me, I know.  I just got done fighting the frenzied masses at the checkout lane.   Because of that, the stores will be getting low on turkeys.  Plus, it will take a couple of days to get a turkey thawed.   You'd better go out right now and pick it up.  Get a twenty pounder.  That's bigger than we need for just five people, but will give us plenty of leftovers to split up between Town, Temple, and Mom."

 

     "Sure, A.J.," the preoccupied Rick nodded.  "Whatever."

 

     "Rick, you haven't heard a word I just said."

 

     "Yes, I have."  Rick's eyes never left the TV as he recited with ease,  "You said I needed to get the bird soon 'cause all the housewives have been grabbin' 'em up like their gold or somethin', and that it should weigh twenty pounds so we have plenty of leftovers."

 

     "So are you going to do it?"

 

     "Do what?"

 

     "Get off my couch and go get the damn turkey!"

 

     Rick threw his brother a sidelong glance. 

 

"Geez, A.J., the holidays sure do make you grumpy.  I think you'd better go upstairs and take a nap."

 

     "I intend to.  Or at least read for a while, if nothing else.  And you had better get to the grocery store."

 

     "Yeah, yeah, I will.  Just as soon as the game is over."

 

     "Don't forget, it's Sunday.  Most of the grocery stores are closed by six on Sunday's."

 

     "Yeah, I know.  Just relax.  Now that you reminded me I'm supposed to bring the gobbler, I’ve got everything under control."

 

     A.J. couldn't fathom how his brother, who was in such a panic just minutes earlier at the prospect of cooking a turkey, could now have everything under control.  But he wasn't going to argue.  If Rick screwed this holiday up he'd have to deal with their mother.  A.J. had already purchased all the items he'd need to make the promised dishes he was to provide for the meal.  So, he would do as Rick said - he'd quit worrying about it and let big brother look out for himself. 

 

     A.J. smiled as he passed his sibling on the way to the stairs.   

 

It sure isn't going to be my problem if you mess this one up, Rick.  No siree, not my problem at all.

 

 

S&S      S&S      S&S      S&S      S&S      S&S      S&S

      

 

     It was seven o'clock on Sunday evening before A.J. returned downstairs.  He'd read for a while in the peaceful haven of his bedroom, then had fallen asleep for two hours.  The TV was off and the house deserted.  Obviously Rick had taken A.J.’s advice and made a trip to the grocery store. 

 

     A.J. was poking his nose into the refrigerator, trying to decide what to make for dinner, when the door opened.  Before the blond man even turned around the heady smell of Italian sausage, melted cheese, and hot tomato sauce filled his senses.

 

     Rick entered the house carrying a large cardboard box that bore the logo of a local pizzeria, Marlowe following at his heels.

 

     "Hey, little brother, don't worry about dinner tonight.  I got us covered."

 

     "I wasn't planning on worrying about dinner for you," A.J. stated, in what was a continuous effort to remind Rick that, though the Hole In The Water was moored in A.J.'s side yard, the blond man was not his brother's cook, housekeeper, or laundry boy.   "But it was nice of you to bring home enough for both of us.  What do I owe you?"

 

     Rick pulled two cold beers out of the refrigerator. 

 

"Nothin.’  It's my treat tonight."

 

     "Thanks," A.J. replied, as he moved to the cabinet to retrieve paper plates and napkins.

 

     "Hey, for my baby brother, anything."

 

     A.J.'s eyes narrowed, and he halted in the act of pulling a slice of pizza off the cardboard.  His hand remained suspended in mid-air with hot strings of mozzarella trailing downward. 

 

"Just what is that supposed to mean?"

     Rick rounded the snack bar to take a seat at one of the high stools.  He spoke around a mouthful of pizza. 

 

"What is what, supposed to mean?" 

 

     "That last remark you made.  The 'anything for my baby brother' remark."

 

     "Nothing!"  Rick declared a little too adamantly, and a little too innocently, for A.J.'s tastes. 

 

     "Rick..."

 

     "All right, all right.  It just means that I'm probably gonna need your help when I make the stuffing for the turkey.  I did read your cookbooks and all like you said, but it still sounds kinda complicated."

 

     A.J. resumed filling his plate with pizza and rounded the counter to the remaining stool. 

 

"I already told you I'd help, so don't worry about it.  We'll get the stuffing ready Wednesday night."

 

 

     "Great.  But the turkey thing, that I can handle by myself.  Based on what the cookbook said, there's not much to it.  Just stuff that baby, baste it every so often with a little melted butter, and watch 'er bake."

 

     A.J. took a swallow of beer and nodded his head. 

 

"That's about it.  Did you find a good one?"

 

     "A good what?"

 

     'A good leg of lamb!  For heaven's sake, Rick, a good turkey."

 

     "Gee, that nap didn't help your disposition much, but to answer your question, no I didn't find a good one.  'Cause like you said, the stores close at six."

 

     "Rick!"

 

     "A.J., pull your underwear outta your crack, will ya'?  It's not that big of a deal.  I'll get the turkey on my way home from work tomorrow."

 

     "Don't forget we have to be in court all day tomorrow, and in the evening we have to follow Mr. Donner's wife."

 

     "Oh, man," Rick moaned, "I get so sick of these damn cheatin' spouse cases.  The last thing I wanna do after spending the day in a boring courtroom is follow some woman who's sleepin' around on her ole' man."

 

     A.J. took another swig of beer and reached for more pizza. 

 

"I don't want to do it anymore than you do, but it's jobs like that one that keep meat on our table.  Or in this case, pizza on our table.  Hopefully there will come a day when we can afford to turn down jobs such as those, but as of yet the business checking account doesn't allow us to pick and choose at will."

 

     "Well, I'll sure be glad when it does, let me tell ya'."

 

     "You and me both.  But regardless, that doesn't solve your current dilemma."

 

     "What dilemma?"

 

     "The turkey, Rick!  The turkey!"

 

     "Oh, yeah.  The turkey.  Well...maybe we'll have a chance to stop and get one in-between following Mrs. Donner."

 

     "Don't count on it.  Donner almost fired us last week because we lost her trail.  We can't afford to blow it again this week.  He's expecting us to find out when and where she's meeting the guy.  And he's expecting us to get pictures.  I hardly think we're going to have the time to make a little side trip to the market just so you can buy the turkey you should have bought a week ago."

 

     "You know, A.J., the trouble with you is everything has to be done weeks earlier than necessary."  Rick scooted the pizza box closer and refilled his plate.  "I've still got plenty of time to get the bird.  If nothing else, we'll find an all-night grocery store and pick it up after we've nailed Old Lady Donner and her lover-boy."

 

     "We'll find an all-night grocery store?  I hate to break the news to you, Rick, but I'm finished with the shopping I need to do for Thanksgiving."

 

     "Yeah, I know that.  And you've probably already got your Christmas shopping done, too, the presents wrapped, and your cards addressed."

 

     "I do."

 

     Rick rolled his eyes.  "Figures.  But see, by living your life that way, you end up eliminating all the fun and excitement."

 

     "No, what I end up doing is eliminating all the stress."

 

     "I don't think so."

 

     "Why not?"

 

     "Cause you sure are stressed out enough over this turkey, and it's not even you who has to bring it."

 

     "That's because somehow, someway, I know if you screw this up, I'll end up paying the price for it."

 

     "Now just how is that gonna happen?  If I don't get the turkey, which I will, but if by some fluke I don't, Mom and Town are gonna be mad at me, not at you."

 

     "I know that's the way it should end up, but call me silly, or call me intuitive, or better yet, just call me experienced.  Somehow, I just have a feeling, your mess will end up becoming my mess."

 

     Rick rose to go outside and dump the empty pizza carton in the garbage can. 

 

"Ain't gonna happen, little brother.  I promise you.  I vow one way or another, I will get the turkey tomorrow, and that ole' Tom will be thawing in your refrigerator by tomorrow night."

 

     A.J. watched as his brother disappeared out the kitchen door into the darkness. 

 

"I hope so, Rick.  For both our sake's, I sure the heck hope so."

    

 

 

S&S      S&S      S&S      S&S      S&S      S&S      S&S

    

 

     It was eight-thirty on Tuesday morning when a weary and tousled A.J. made his way down the stairs.  He belted his bathrobe and ran a hand over the beard stubble that covered his face, being careful to avoid his tender, swollen lower lip.  He didn't even want to look in a mirror until he'd had a cup of coffee and a hot shower.   He tried to rotate his right shoulder, and discovered that movement was more stiff and painful now than it had been several hours earlier.  

 

     The blond detective hadn't gotten in until three-fifteen that morning.  That's when he and Rick finished giving their statements at the police station, and had been allowed to leave. What time Rick came in A.J. wasn't sure.  After dropping A.J. off at the Camaro parked in the lot outside Simon and Simon Investigations, Rick was headed across town to an all-night grocery store to pick up the much sought-after turkey.

 

      Mr. Donner had neglected to mention the object of his wife's affections was a professional wrestler.  The Simon brothers managed to gain entrance into the couple's hotel room under the guise of room service, a ploy that had worked for them countless times in the past when they'd had to gather evidence of adultery for a divorce case.  A.J. pushed a cloth-covered cart into the room laden with fresh fruit, bagels, muffins, pads of butter, miniature containers of jam, and a bottle of chilled champagne in a sterling silver bucket.  Rick was sitting hunched over on the second shelf of the cart, hidden by the cloth.  A hole just big enough for a camera lens to peer through had been delicately cut out of the burgundy tablecloth.   While A.J. went about discreetly setting the midnight snack on the room's only table, Rick took pictures of the couple lounging together in bed.  Despite A.J.'s presence, they kissed and fondled underneath the sheet Mrs. Donner had pulled up to cover her naked breasts.  

 

     The ploy would have worked, too, had it not been for the legitimate hotel employee who wheeled in a cart while brightly announcing, "Room service!" two minutes after A.J. had done the exact same thing.

 

     The stark naked wrestler, all three hundred pounds of him, leapt out of bed with an enraged roar.  Before A.J. had a chance to even think about defending himself, he'd been picked up like a child and thrown across the room.  He landed against the far wall with a resounding thud. 

 

     A.J.'s cart got the same treatment with Rick still on board.  When it hit the wall next to where A.J. had landed, Rick tumbled out in a tangled heap of arms, legs, and camera.  The young man who had entered the room after the Simons raced out in a panic.  It was probably his quick action in calling the police that saved the Simon brothers from serious harm.  As it was, by the time San Diego's finest showed up to arrest all three men, the room was completely destroyed.  Lamps had been thrown, the TV screen shattered, the dresser overturned, a chair had gone through a window and landed on top of a Mercedes Benz in the parking lot below, and Mrs. Donner was running around the room in a naked panic, flapping her arms and clucking like an hysterical chicken at butchering time, while frantically trying to unearth her clothes amidst the mayhem.

 

     A.J. looked out the window now to see Rick's truck parked in the driveway.  If nothing else, he knew Rick had made it home safely and was sleeping in his bunk on the Hole In The Water.  As the blond man moved about the kitchen preparing his breakfast, he took note of the empty space on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator.  He had made room for the promised turkey the previous morning before they left for the courthouse.  He briefly wondered if the vacant shelf meant Rick still hadn't gotten the turkey.

 

     No, that can't be it.  Rick was headed to that all-night grocery store when he dropped me off at the Camaro.  He must have decided not to chance waking me up by bringing it in the house.  If the turkey was frozen solid, he probably knew it wouldn't hurt it to sit on the countertop in the boat until he wakes up and brings it in here.

 

     A.J. didn't think anymore about Thanksgiving Day's main course as he ate his breakfast, then went upstairs to shower.  A half hour later he returned to the kitchen feeling somewhat more alive and vibrant, and a little less sore.  The blond man, dressed in gray slacks, a tweed sport coat, white shirt, and gray and blue tie, left a note on the refrigerator door for his brother.

 

     Rick,

 

         I went to the office.  See you there later.  Don't forget we've got an appointment with a potential client at two o'clock. 

 

     A.J.

            

     P.S.   And don't forget to put the turkey in the refrigerator. 

    

 

 

S&S      S&S      S&S      S&S      S&S      S&S      S&S

 

 

 

     Rick rushed into the Simon and Simon office just seconds before their two o'clock appointment arrived, leaving the brothers no time to exchange more than quick hellos.  Rick had fared even worse than A.J. during the previous evening's altercation, and was sporting a black eye, bruised jaw, throbbing head, and three sprained fingers to prove it. 

 

     They spent forty-five minutes with their new client, then saw her to the door.  Despite the fatigue that was settling over both detectives like a heavy blanket, they locked up the office and immediately began working on the case they'd just been hired for.  If they were able to retrieve for the woman, in less than one week, what she was so desperately searching for, she was promising a two thousand dollar bonus.  Rick thought that bonus would come in handy for Christmas shopping. . .as well as for a few ‘presents’ for himself, of course, while A.J. thought it would fatten their bank account quite nicely.

 

     It was eight o'clock when the weary detectives dragged themselves into A.J.'s house.  Marlowe shot by them on his way out the door. 

 

     "Don't wander too far, big guy!"  Rick called after the dog.  "The last thing I feel like doin' tonight is arguin' with ole' man Gorman 'cause you watered his lawn instead of A.J.'s."

 

     A.J. tossed his car keys and sport coat on the countertop. Rick's hat and field jacket followed.  The blond walked over to the refrigerator and tugged on the handle.  

 

"What do you want to eat?" 

 

     "Whatever you've got is fine."  Rick rounded the snack bar, sank onto a stool, and allowed his upper body to sprawl across the countertop.    "Don't go to any trouble."

 

     A.J.'s head lolled backwards and his eyes closed of their own volition.  "Don't worry," he mumbled, "I'm not planning to.  How about sandwiches and soup?"

 

     "Fine with me," Rick agreed. 

 

With great effort, Rick pushed himself to an upright position and forced himself to help his brother.  He stumbled over to the cabinet where A.J. kept the canned goods and pulled out two cans of Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup.  He bent down to retrieve a saucepan, then opened the drawer that housed the silverware. 

 

     A.J. reached blindly into the refrigerator, and by nothing more than feel, came up with leftover roast beef, mustard, and mayonnaise.       

 

     It wasn't until A.J. opened his eyes to search for the twelve pack of Coke he had moved off the bottom shelf the previous day, that he noticed the shelf was bare of what was supposed to be residing there.

 

     A.J. turned to his brother, who was standing at the stove stirring the slowly warming soup. 

 

"Hey, where's the turkey?  You didn't forget and leave it out on the boat all day, did you?"

 

     "No, I didn't forget and leave it out on the boat all day.   I haven't bought it yet."

 

     A.J. was able to put more energy behind his exclamation than he thought he had left.

 

"You haven't bought it yet?  What do you mean you haven't bought it yet?  That's where you were going when you dropped me off at my car this morning."

 

     "Yeah, I know.  But that grocery store was closed.  I guess they don't stay open all night anymore.  And I was too damn tired, and my head hurt too damn much, to go searchin' for another one that does stay open all night."

 

     "So what are you going to do now?"

 

     "As soon as we're done eating I'm gonna to the store a couple blocks from here.  Aren't they open until nine on weeknights?"

 

     "I think so," A.J. said, while slathering mayonnaise on bread.  "Maybe even ten."

 

     Rick glanced up at the clock to see it was twelve minutes after eight.  "Either way I've got plenty of time."

 

     "If it's frozen, which it probably will be, just leave it setting on the countertop," A.J. advised.  "It won't hurt it to thaw a little bit that way tonight.  Then you can put it in the refrigerator before we leave for work in the morning."

 

     "Sounds like a plan to me," Rick agreed, while pulling bowls and plates out of a cabinet.

 

     The no-fuss supper was quickly eaten and the dishes quickly deposited in the dishwasher.  Rick wiped off the table and pushed in the chairs, while A.J. started the dishwasher cycling.  The tired blond man retrieved his sport coat and keys, and headed for the stairs. 

 

     "See you in the morning.  Lock the house up when you leave for the store."

 

     "Okay," Rick said before opening the door and whistling for Marlowe. 

 

     By the time the dog entered the house, A.J. was turning down his bed and sliding in-between the covers with a weary sigh.  He was asleep within a matter of seconds, and never noticed that he didn't hear the Powerwagon's engine roar to life. 

 

     Nor did he notice the snores coming from the brother sprawled on the couch in his den.  

 

 

S&S      S&S      S&S      S&S      S&S      S&S      S&S

    

 

     The only evidence A.J. could find of a turkey in his house the next morning, was the one sleeping fully clothed on his sofa.     

 

      A.J. walked over to the couch and shook his brother's shoulder. 

 

"Rick!  Rick, wake up!  Where's the turkey?"

 

     For a long minute Rick Simon was suspended between sleep and wakefulness.  He could swear A.J. was shaking him and asking him something about a stupid turkey.

 

     "Rick!  Rick, where's the turkey?"

     Rick groaned and fought with the plush sofa cushions until he was able to push his body to an upright position.  He leaned forward and cradled his head in his hands. 

 

"What?"

 

     "Where's the turkey?"

    

"Whatta ya' talkin' about, A.J.?  What turkey?"

 

     "The turkey you're supposed to bring to Town's tomorrow, that's what turkey!"

 

     "What time'z it?"

 

     "Seven o'clock."

 

     Rick scrubbed his hands over his face. 

 

"How can it be seven o'clock?  We didn't get in until eight."

 

     A.J.'s hands rested on his hips.  He stood over his brother like a teacher stands over an errant pupil. 

 

"Rick, it's seven o'clock in the morning.  Seven o'clock on Wednesday morning.  As in Wednesday morning, the day before Thanksgiving."

 

     Rick's hands fell to the couch and he looked up at his brother.

 

"Seven in the morning?  But I just sat down for a few seconds.  I just wanted to rest a minute, and then I was gonna go to the store."

 

     A.J. walked into the kitchen to start the coffee brewing.  "Well, I'd say your minute turned into about ten and half hours worth of sleep."

 

     "Damn!"  Rick shot off the couch.  "I'm gonna shower and run to the store.  I'll meet you in the office by nine."

 

     "Just make sure you're there by then," A.J. said as Rick rushed toward the French doors, headed for the Hole In The Water and a clean change of clothing.  "I want to pick up the investigation where we left off last night."

 

     "So do I.  I want that two thousand bucks."

 

     "No doubt," A.J. shook his head and hid his smile.  "And since you're getting down to the wire here with the turkey, just leave it on the countertop when you get it home, or it'll never be thawed enough to cook in the morning."

 

     "I will!"  Rick promised as h