Dean held his comment. Fred's somber mood dictated restraint. It was a rare event for Fred to speak of his past, especially when it sounded like a hint of the truth.
"David is going to find out who the guy in the mine is. Maybe you can help, too."
Fred nodded his head. "Maybe." Then he added, "I might be a bit too busy."
"Doing what?" Dean asked. "You've got more time on your hands than an unemployed whaler."
Fred ignored Dean and reached in his coat pocket and withdrew a letter, handing it to Cynthia. She read it with Dean nosed over her shoulder.
"It's a jury summons," she said.
"You ought to have fun with that, Sherlock," Dean said. "Here's a shot at a real life caper. Eleven angry men and one nosy geezer." But once again, Fred wasn't biting.
"I'm not too fussy about getting mixed up in that stuff."
"What's the problem?" Dean asked. "I figured you'd eat this stuff up like strawberry shortcake. A real live mystery, even if it's probably only a fender-bender auto case. You'll have a ball if they don't boot you off before you reach the court room." He added, "They settle ninety percent of those things before the judge gets his robes on."
"That would be fine with me. I don't like messing with the legal system. Maybe I could get excused." Then he added, "It would sure be different on that side of the room." He smiled, as if he were kidding. To Dean's experienced ears, it didn't sound like a joke. Dean held his tongue. Something told Dean it wasn't the time for poking fun. He was right. Fred's mood remained somber throughout the meal.
Amid forced conversation, the group plodded their way through shrimp, chicken, and enchiladas to dessert-fried ice cream-but if the Deans thought this final outing would be a celebration, they were mistaken. The party meal was a bust, with everyone aware that the next dinner would be absent one of their number, perhaps for good. They trudged home without a word being spoken.
Martha was toddled off to bed for her final night under Bird Song's ancient eaves, the doors locked and pajamas donned before Dean resurrected the question of Fred's curious reaction to the jury summons. He raised the topic as much to take Cynthia's mind off Martha's departure as from any serious concern about the old man.
"Can you imagine Fred not re-reading Twelve Angry Men and trying to memorize the dialog?" he kidded.
"It does seem strange," Cynthia said as she propped up her pillow against the headboard. "The way Fred loves mysteries you'd think he'd be thrilled to be a part of a real jury. Perhaps he's so upset over Martha's leaving that he can't concentrate on anything else."