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Sunday afternoon. A time when families all across the country spend quality time togetherbreaking bread, acknowledging how important they are to one another, sharing secrets. And the Hightower family, one of the richest broods on Long Island, was no exception. "Who made the martinis?" Marilyn said as she sipped the drink she had just poured out of the tumbler. "Mummy," Morgan replied, not looking up from his magazine. "Why do you ask?" "Because as far as I can tell, it's straight gin." Morgan nodded. "That's our Mummy." Morgan and Marilyn were brother and sister. Morgan was six feet tall, underweight, and carried himself with an air of determined dissipation. Marilyn was almost as tall and was often described as having "steely good looks," which meant both that she was uncommonly attractive and that her beauty was encased in a titanium shell no one had yet managed to penetrate. Morgan was a year older; they were both well into their thirties. Marilyn poured her drink into the sink, took a tall glass, and reached for a Coke bottle. "That was a bit strong for the first drink of the day." "Mummy's first drink of the day came shortly after breakfast. What you sampled would be theoh, I don't knowthird or fourth batch of the day. Which might explain why she didn't detect any subtle variations in flavor." "Toodle-doo, Morgan. Can I come in?" The voice in the hallway came from Cecilia, better known as Sissy, Morgan's well-proportioned wife. She was not generally considered nuclear scientist material, but what she had downstairs compensated Morgan for what she didn't have upstairs, or so everyone assumed, anyway. Sissy snuggled up beside Morgan, who wrapped his arm around her. "What's my little Morgy doing?" Morgan had the look of supreme boredom down cold. "Reading, obviously." She pressed against him. "Could I interest Morgy in doing something a little more . . . athletic?" "I'm reading, dear." She brushed her lips against his cheek. "I can think of something more fun than reading." A pained expression crossed Morgan's face. "Not now, dear. My sinuses are acting up." "Please?" She traced a line up his neck with her finger, ending at his mouth. "I'll make it worth Morgy-Worgy's time." "Morgan," Marilyn said sternly. "Be a dear and take your nymphet bride to your bedroom. If I have to listen to any more of this, I'm going to vomit." "Oh, all right." He laid his magazine down and sighed heavily. "Back to the salt mines." Before he could move, however, he heard galumphing footsteps signaling that his father was on his way. And that he wasn't in a good mood. "Has anyone seen Julia?" Morgan and Marilyn's father, Arthur Hightower, was an overweight bear of a man. He was blunt, gruff, and willfully unvarnished. He'd made a fortune in the oil business while the boom was on and managed to keep it when the boom was over. "How long must a man go on searching for his own wife?" He throttled up the volume. "Julia!" The blanket on the sofa beside Sissy moved. Sissy let out a short, high-pitched cry. Morgan attempted concern. "What's wrong, dearest?" "The blanket moved!" The blanket did move. AndBernhardt, William is the author of 'Natural Suspect - William Bernhardt - Hardcover - 1ST' with ISBN 9780345437686 and ISBN 0345437683.
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