"What does he look like?" Fred asked.
Dean thought a moment. "Well dressed. Good looking, except he uses Fran Tarkenton's barber."
"Who's Fran Tarkenton?" asked Cynthia.
Fred answered with a wave of his hand. "It's a guy thing. Like baseball, only a different sport. It means he combs his hair like he's still wearing his football helmet."
"So, do you know him?" Dean asked.
Fred put his finger to his lips. "Mum's the word, remember?"
"Look, if Faust is the Dawkinses' lawyer, I can't see how your saying so jeopardizes a damn thing. You're carrying this juror business too far! The case hasn't even begun!"
Fred rose. "If you're gonna discuss the Dawkins, I'd best excuse myself. It's time I kick that Westlake fellow off my computer so's I can post my bargains for the world to see. Between him and them Dawkins, I never get to use it."
As he left, Dean rolled his eyes in frustration. "Damn! I was hoping to pry the name of the gold-digger out of him! Fred's quick enough to hear what I have to say, but tight-lipped as a smart fish about anything he knows."
"He's only abiding by the judge's direction," Cynthia answered.
"I don't see how telling us what the case is about, who the litigants are and who's the attorney compromises anything. I could go down to the courthouse myself and learn all those answers. It's all public record."
"Maybe you'd better do that. When Fred gets stubborn, neither crowbars nor kind words are going to budge him."
"Faust is a divorce lawyer. I wonder if Ginger is thinking about dumping Joseph? She certainly looked friendly with her lawyer when we saw them." Then he answered his own question. "The Dawkins have three rooms for four people. One couple is sleeping apart, so I suppose Ginger and Joseph are already estranged."
"Nope," said Cynthia. "It's Paul and Paulette who are bunking separately, at least last night."
"It's not nice to be speculating on the sex lives of our guests," Dean mimicked. "Shame on you! What ever happened to Bird Song's 'mind our own business' philosophy?"
Cynthia smiled. "I'm not even an apprentice in the snooping game, compared to you and Fred. Besides, I wasn't snooping. I was showing Maria where to clean." She stood up and stretched. "Time to get back to work."
Dean bumped into Joseph Dawkins, who was coming in from the patio, a beer in each hand. When he spoke, it didn't sound as if either beer was his first. He glanced in the kitchen and asked Dean if he'd seen Ginger. Dean hadn't. Joseph didn't look happy.