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remark and
asked if he could remember anything specific that Theo Greer mentioned during
their conversation.
    “He talked a lot about Ben
Franklin,” Homer said.
    “Who?”
    “Benjamin Franklin. As in, one of
the Founding Fathers of the United States of America.”
    “Oh, that Ben Franklin! I
thought you were talking about someone who lives around here.”
    Homer shook his head. “I guess the
guy’s a big history nut. From the way he was boasting, I’d also say it’s safe
to assume that he lives in Philadelphia.”
    “Okay,” I said. “He’s from back
east, but he was in Crescent Creek looking for someone that he used to work
with.”
    “Maybe he found her, too,” Homer
said with a smile.
    “What do you mean?”
    “I saw him on your front porch
about a half hour later as I was leaving,” Homer said. “He and a young lady
were really getting into it.”
    “They were arguing?”
    Homer nodded. “Cats and dogs,
Katie. Cats and dogs.”
    “Who was she?”
    “Heck if I know,” he answered. “I
only saw her shapely caboose.” He winked. “If you know what I mean.”
    “I think I do,” I said. “Could you
guess her age?”
    “Somewhere between birth and the
Pearly Gates.”
    “Mr. Figg!”
    “What? How can I guess her age when
the only thing that I saw was her backside? I mean, I could describe all of
that beauty if you’d like.”
    I shook my head. “It’s okay,” I
said. “I get the picture.”
    “I’m just teasing, Katie. I don’t
have any idea who it was or what her age might be, but the look on that guy’s
face told me that they weren’t chatting about the weather.”
    “Can you describe what she was
wearing?”
    He smiled. “Clothes.”
    I felt my blood pressure percolate.
“Uh-huh. And can you be more specific?”
    “Women’s clothes,” Homer said.
    I glared at him for a split second
before smiling. “You’re in rare form, Mr. Figg.”
    “Prune juice,” he said. “And Double
K. I’m getting twice as much exercise and fresh air now that I’m walking our
two pups and this little runt separately.”
    “Well, that’s all good to hear.” I
smiled at the diminutive furry critter sprawled in the grass. “Can we try that
last question again?”
    “About the woman’s clothes?”
    I nodded.
    “Well, she was pretty dang fit,”
Homer said. “Muscular legs, tiny waist, slim arms and her rump was—”
    “Her clothes , Mr. Figg! What
was the woman wearing?”
    He smiled. “Let me see that picture
again,” he said.
    I reached into my purse, pulled out
the phone and navigated to the image of Theo Greer. When I held it up, Homer
lightly cupped my hand and studied the image closely.
    “That’s her,” he said, pointing at
the screen. “She’s the one right behind the man in the picture.”
    I turned the phone and once again scrutinized
the fuchsia tights, boxy gray sweatshirt and sapphire running shoes.
    “See, Katie?” Homer said. “It’s
just like I told you—she’s wearing women’s clothes.”
    I put away the phone. Then I asked
if he remembered any additional details about the brief encounter with Theo
Greer.
    “That’s about it,” Homer said. “We
didn’t have a lengthy chat or anything. He asked for directions to the drug
store. We talked about Benjamin Franklin. And then he asked if I knew anyone
named Arlene.”
    “Did he mention where he was staying
in town?” I asked.
    “He wasn’t,” Homer said. “He had a
room down in Frisco at the Silver Dollar Motel.”
    “You’re sure about that?” I asked.
    “That’s what I heard him tell
someone on the phone,” Homer said. “Why do you seem surprised?”
    “I’m not really surprised,” I
answered. “I just haven’t heard anyone mention the Silver Dollar since I moved
back to Crescent Creek.”
    “Does that dump hold a special
place in your heart or something?”
    I blushed. “Possibly.”
    Homer chuckled and stepped closer.
“Is that right?” he asked, lowering his voice. “A long ago