Homicide Detective John Polson began to awaken at his usual time of seven o'clock. What wasn't usual was that Beverly, his wife, who almost always got up much earlier, was cuddled against his back with her arm over his waist with her hand on his belly. During the week his antennae had not received the usual signals that his wife might be in an amorous mood; laughing a little more often at his jokes, being more agreeable, speaking a little softer, and maybe patting his butt in the kitchen... signs that were all almost invisible unless he was fully aware. When his antennae were working, he would have time to take one of those little blue pills to be prepared, but he hated them because they usually gave him a miserable day-long headache. So, he made out that he was still asleep waiting to be sure. Her hand on his belly might be a sign... might be. It also might be a sign that she hadn't slept well and needed a little more sleep today. Maybe, but then a finger found his belly button. An accident or an accident on purpose? In a few minutes, the hand moved south a few inches and paused, then, then... uh oh, no headache today. Whoopee! However, this morning's surprise will pale in comparison to the long list of surprises he will encounter, starting in just a few hours, when he will be called to investigate the murder, in an unexpected place, of the town's beloved daughter and owner of their old iconic newsstand.
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