"Someone will have to speak to MS Turnbull," Cynthia said, looking at her husband who groaned as he poured another cup of coffee.
Fred leaned close to Dean. "Seeing as I was awake anyhow, I did a bit of surfing for info about our guest." Cynthia gave Fred a raised eyebrow look but he pretended not to see her. "That town, Pinkville, Virginia? It's the base for a state-wide business of storage buildings named-get this, 'Shipton Storage!'"
"So?" Dean asked.
"Sounds like a front to me. What did Mrs. Shipton have to say after I left last night?"
Dean tried to minimize Edith's story but Fred pressed them until Cynthia related, in broad detail, all Edith had told them.
Fred nodded his head. "I'll bet he's into something illegal, using the buildings to store lord-knows-what. I read somewhere they swipe cars and ship 'em down to South America where the druggies buy 'em. Maybe that's it. Half the cars down there have USA license plates, and the models are so new they practically still have the family pet in the back seat."
Dean and his wife firmly stated, in close harmony, it was none of any of their business.
"It's going to be a busy day for all of us," Cynthia said, giving Fred no time to object. "I'd better call Janet to see if she can come by." Janet O'Brien was a local woman who remained on call to Bird Song, assisting with the domestic chores of running the bed and breakfast, at least when the number of guests required additional help.
While Cynthia was telephoning and Fred mumbling, Donnie came downstairs to the dining room. He gave no indication he and his mother were leaving and joined Fred at the table when the old man offered him a bowl of cereal. He smiled but reached for a fresh muffin instead.
"I wonder what they do with the holes," Fred mused as he spooned his breakfast and poured a glass of milk for Donnie.
"What holes?" Dean asked as he gathered up his dishes.
"The ones left over. They must stamp out these Cheerios like doughnuts. Billions and billions of 'em. Doughnuts have holes left over when they stamp them out. They sell 'em. So what do they do with the Cheerios' holes?" Fred asked the question like a learned professor, speculating on a universal problem of time, space and the creation of the universe. Donnie smiled and looked to Dean for an answer.
"That's the silliest thing I've ever heard!" he answered, as he left for the kitchen. But visions of gigantic piles of BB sized oats continued to plague his brain as he donned his coat and gloves to clear the steps and walk-ways of the overnight snow.