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Penny established that Mom and Mr. Robinson were about the same age and went to the same High School. They must have known each other. It stands to reason. So what was going on? I sat in the car and was quiet for a few moments while Penny just sat and watched me. ‘This isn’t good … is it?’ Penny finally spoke. ‘No … it isn’t. Still, we don’t have any proof. I don’t know what to do next. I just can’t think of anything that would tell us more.’ I said morosely. Penny was silent for a long time before she finally spoke again. ‘What if we scare her … your mom, I mean?’ she asked. ‘Why?’ ‘I saw a movie the other night on TV. It was about a guy who got an anonymous letter telling him he was in danger. He didn’t know who it came from. It drove him crazy. Later he got another letter telling him his days were numbered. It was a really spooky movie and he finally killed himself because he didn’t know what was going to happen to him.’ Penny said all this in a detached voice as if it was. “How long was she hanging there?” I asked with a forkful of eggs filling my face.They estimated it was between 20 minutes and half-an-hour before she was spotted, and even then it took time to raise her back over the edge.“She definitely did not jump,” Stacy said, quoting a police official. “Her leg wouldn’t have caught that way had she not gone over the side legs first.”Stacy paused, then looked right at me. “Like, she flipped,” she said. “She was bumped and she flipped right over the edge. Somebody really wanted to kill her.”The fact that her damming statement did not have the slightest effect on me – had an effect on me.“Go get dressed,” I said, lightly pinching her tight ass. “We’re going over to the Arnovsky’s house later.”“That means we get to go over the bridge!” she squealed and scrambled off the bed. “Promise me we get to stop and look.”“Uh, sure. But the cops might not let us,” I cautioned her and hoping that would be the case. “Take a shower, OK?”“Join me?” she teased. That.
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”“And you fucked my daughter in the ass!”“Yes. She asked me to.”“No kissing, no fondling…”“Plenty of that came after.”She ate a shrimp and emptied the wine bottle into our wine glasses. She said she’d be right back and got up and I stared at her concave asscrack as she left to visit the bathroom. When she returned she had another bottle and poured a little more into our glasses.“John, do you know my first name?”“Yes,” I said. “Rebecca.”“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say it. Even when you visited at the holidays you never called me by name.”“Really? Are you serious?” I said.“Yes. Say it again.”I said it. She asked me to repeat it. I did. She asked me to say her name several more times and I complied.“I like to hear you say it.”“I like saying it, Rebecca.”“Very good, you’re a quick study. Let me ask you this: why did you come over here tonight? And don’t tell me the shrimp.”“You’re right, Rebecca. It definitely was not the shrimp. It was the cocktail sauce.”We shared coy.

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