22I couldn’t wait for lunch to roll around so we could get back to the most important work at hand: looking into Dad’s death.
Peg drove us in her musty-smelling white Oldsmobile to Stush’s Diner, and we grabbed a corner booth. We got there early, ten till twelve, so the lunch rush was just kicking into gear.
“Ladies!” Stush made a beeline for us before our butts hit the seats. “So good to see you both again so soon!”
“Thanks, Uncle Stush.” I smiled and scooted into the booth. “Good to see you, too.”
Peg was looking across the diner, at the wall-mounted white dry-erase board on which the specials were scrawled. “How’s the stuffed pepper soup today?”
“Fabulous.” Stush pressed the fingertips and thumb of one hand together, then kissed them all at once and fanned his hand open wid
