Stone Barrington 27 - Doing Hard Time

way.”
    Fred appeared. “Dinner is served in the kitchen, as requested,” he said.
    They polished off their drinks and went downstairs.
    “I’ll see what I can learn about the Russian guy at graduation,” he said to Stone as they started down the stairs.
    •   •   •
    After a first course of smoked salmon, Fred set three plates in front of them, each covered with a slab of meat that hung over the edges.
    Dino cut off a chunk and ate it. “Interesting,” he said.
    Viv tried it, too. “A little gamy, but nice, even tender. What is it?”
    “Moose,” Stone replied.
    The Bacchettis set down their knives and forks and stared at Stone. “What?” Dino said. “Did you find that at Grace’s Market?” he asked, referring to a tony East Side grocery.
    “Bill Eggers shot it. He sent me fifteen pounds of it.”
    “And you thought you’d feed it to us?” Dino asked incredulously.
    “What have you got against moose?” Stone asked.
    “Nothing that would make me want to kill it and eat it.”
    “It’s like when you’re eating venison you’re eating Bambi,” Viv said.
    “There is no moose equivalent of Bambi,” Stone said. “At least I don’t think there is. Anyway, Bambi is a baby deer. Eggers shoots only grown-up moose. Or meese. What is the plural of moose, anyway?”
    “Mice?” Dino offered.
    “Dino,” his wife said, “you’re just making it worse.”
    Reluctantly they re-attacked their moose. Finally, Dino had had enough and dropped his utensils. “Maybe it’s more like horse,” he said.
    “A moose is almost as big as a horse,” Stone said. “And the French eat horse.”
    “I give up,” Viv said, putting down her fork. “Too many comparisons. Next time you serve us moose, Stone, disguise it in a stew or something.”
    “I’ve still got twelve pounds of it,” Stone said.
    “Is that a threat?” Dino asked.
    “Just information.”
    “I didn’t want to know that.”

Hattie was driving. “Look, a hill,” she said, pointing ahead.
    “I don’t believe it,” Peter said from the backseat.
    “No,” she replied. “Upon reconsideration, it’s not a hill, it’s a landfill. There was a sign back there.”
    “Where are we?”
    “Somewhere in western Kansas, according to the GPS map.”
    “How can people live here?” Ben asked from the front passenger seat. “There are no hills and no trees.”
    “I saw a tree about an hour ago,” Hattie said.
    “That one doesn’t count,” Peter said. “It was in somebody’s front yard. They probably imported it from someplace with a surfeit of trees.”
    “Like North Carolina,” Ben said. “They have a surfeit of trees.”
    “Can’t you guys think of anything to talk about?” Hattie asked.
    “We’re talking about trees,” Ben said.
    “And very earnestly,” Peter added.
    “Talk about ideas, not plants.”
    “Yeah,” Ben said. “Anybody got an idea for a movie we can make?”
    “We’ve already got a movie to make,” Peter said.
    “But what do we make after that?” Ben asked.
    “How about a musical?” Hattie suggested. “I love musicals.”
    “Leo Goldman Junior says musicals lose money,” Ben said.
    “Okay, then let’s make a moneymaking musical.”
    “A musical with old music or new music?” Peter asked.
    “Old music,” Hattie replied. “It’s a lot better than new music.”
    “With dancing?” Ben asked. “I mean with real dancing, like Fred Astaire, not dancing like boogieing.”
    “Real dancing.”
    “Then we’ll have to discover a new Fred Astaire,” Peter pointed out. “The old one died.” He looked over his shoulder. “Is there a car following us? All I can see is the U-Haul trailer.”
    Hattie checked the rented mirror that was clipped onto their SUV. “There’s a dot in my mirror. I don’t know if it’s a car.”
    “What else could it be?” Peter asked.
    “A truck.”
    “Then it would be a bigger dot. Anyway, it’s been following us all day.”
    “Maybe it’s the only other car in Kansas besides ours,” Ben said.
    “But why is it following us?”
    “Maybe it wants to mate with our car,” Ben offered.
    “Oh, come on, guys,” Hattie said. “When are you going to stop talking about a car following us? You’re just being paranoid.”
    “We’re not paranoid if there’s an actual car following us,” Peter said.
    “Well, I’ll give you this,” Hattie said. “It never seems to catch up, and it never drops out of sight.”
    “It’s following us,” Peter