always a first ime

Bobby went outside too. Meredith had sometimes wondered whether her son was jealous of Bobby, who was so much more assiduous of her comfort. She heaved herself up from the chair and watched through the French doors as the two men talked, heads bowed. Joseph took out his mobile phone and spoke briefly. He had waited to make sure before he called in reinforcements. It wasn’t long before she heard the sirens. The rent-a-cops were on their way to save the day. Idiots.

        Three black and whites parked in the pasture on the other side of her rock wall, gumball lights circling.  A blue SUV pulled in as well. “Oh goodie. Homeland Security is here too. They’ll keep us secure.”

         Bobby came in and closed the door gently.

        “I don’t know how much of the reason I don’t like the State Troopers is because I don’t like cops in general or because they seem so young,” said Bobby.

       “Wet behind the ears. They don’t even look old enough to be Boy Scouts to me.”

        “They bust kids for one joint at a beach party. And the roadblocks for inspection stickers—always in the most inconvenient spots.”

         “Whippersnappers,” she said, pronouncing it whippasnappas. “They very likely learned all they know about murder inquiries on CSI. As for Joseph, he doesn’t know anything about it either. There’s never been a murder on Block island.”

          “He told me not to leave,” said Bobby. “He knew that much.”