Murder on the Aisle

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“You see ’em, don’t you?” the cabbie asked.

“Yeah, I see them.”

“Around the block again?”

“Yeah, around the block again,” Tobin said.

He sat back in the cab and tried to prepare himself for the confrontation he had been avoiding all day.

The cabbie, glancing in his rearview mirror, said, “I always liked you better anyway.”

“I’m sorry,” Tobin said, coming up through his thoughts as if from deep water. “I wasn’t listening.”

“I said I always liked you better anyway.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. You. I mean better than that partner of yours, that Dunphy guy. He’s kind of a snob. You’re more like the average man. Like me. That’s why I always liked you better.”

“Well, thank you.”

“My wife always watches you guys, too. She loves it when you get to arguing about a movie. She even tries to predict which ones you’ll like and which ones you won’t. You know — it’s like handicapping horses or something.”

“I’m glad you enjoy the show.”

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