As we jogged, I told Mary Lou about my business trip this weekend, and that I would need her to watch the kids for a few days.
"They have islands in Washington?"
she asked.
"That's the rumor."
"Sounds far," she said. "And cold."
"I think you and I need to buy an atlas.
Or get out more."
She waved her hand at the sunny beaches. "And leave this? No thanks. Tell me about your case."
I did, easily and smoothly - and never sounded winded. Speaking as if I were sitting across from my sister at a Starbucks. Sipping water, of course.
Always water.
When I finished, Mary Lou said, "Sounds dangerous. I mean, there might be a killer among them."
"Or not," I said. "My client could be delusional. The police already ruled it an accident."
"The island is isolated, right?"
I thought about that, nodding. "I think so, yeah. There's a ferry service to the island, I think."
"So, if it was isolated, perhaps the evidence had been well tampered with far before the police could come out."