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flying all over the room like a balloon letting its air out, or throw himself on the floor like a child having a temper tantrum. She felt like provoking him, but wouldn’t.
    “You don’t like him because he is Lebanese?” There was no challenge in her tone; she was asking him if it was true. But she allowed a hint of derision.
    “No! God damn it, that isn’t all. He’s too old for her! She’s only twenty-six, for Christ sake. He’s almost forty. What the hell does he have in common with her?” Jill realized too late that Jacob’s temper made the hospital cafeteria a less than suitable place for questioning after all. She closed her notebook and caught Albert’s eye.
    “Come to the precinct with us, please Mr. and Mrs. Parker?” Albert was ever the peacemaker. “It’ll be more comfortable than the hospital. The coffee is better there, too.” They all stood up. “You can come in my cruiser; we’ll bring you back to your car later.” They agreed and followed Albert out of the room. Jill was grateful for the chance to be alone, to assimilate all the facts and feelings she had accumulated in the past half hour. She was feeling the urgency about getting to interview the boyfriend, Mike Ahmed. He was probably at work; she’d ask Albert to go. She wasn’t done with Jacob Parker just yet.
     

Chapter 4
    Gus Zannos was preparing his famous stuffed peppers for the dinner crowd. The number of workers in the area who picked up their dinner from his store was growing every week. He went to the Eastern Market before dawn and found the peppers on special. He bought ten dozen red and green, hoping that would be enough. Last Friday, he’d made lamb shish kebab and forty people came in for take-out. He saved Jillian’s dinner, but the rest of it was gone by six. He’d wanted to have enough made for the nurses who worked twelve hours and wouldn’t be able to get there until just before he closed at eight. He quickly made up some spaghetti and meatballs and the grateful nurses had their dinner after all.
    He washed and dried his one hundred twenty peppers and cut the tops off, then scraped the seeds out and set the peppers upside down to drain on his late wife’s cookie cooling racks. The radio was turned to a classic music station, although a Greek language station was available and broadcast right in Greektown. He preferred the gentle classical music to the lively American music being played today on the Greek station.
    Gus plopped lean ground beef into a big, stainless steel mixer with a dough hook on it. Using his mother’s recipe, he added raw white rice that he rinsed off first, small, sweet chopped onions, fresh mint, oregano, eggs, garlic, Worcestershire sauce, and a little milk, and blended it together. He used a ½ cup measuring scoop to fill the peppers. As he scooped the meat in and tapped it down with his fingers, he hummed along with the radio. He greased two large baking pans and lined up the peppers so they touched in the pan. When he was finished stuffing all the peppers, he poured two giant cans of tomato juice over them and sprinkled them with grated cheese. Sealing them tightly with foil, he put them in a 350 degree oven to bake for an hour. He liked the peppers to be soft and mushy, just held in shape by the mixture within them. He would also make mashed potatoes. That was an addition his Syrian American sister-in-law taught him; there was nothing better than a piping hot stuffed pepper served on a bed of hot mashed potatoes. His sister-in-law was proud she influenced him. He would call Anna later today. Peppers were served at the store in this way for the past thirty years. It was a tradition. On Monday, stuffed peppers from Greektown would be dinner all over town. Every day of the week he prepared a different entrée for his customers, so they knew what to expect.
    Business was slow in the afternoon after the lunch rush. Occasionally, a sight-seeing bus would stop out front and a group of hungry