7:23-7:47

24 minutes

658 words

two co-conspirators

one hot date

The morning of December 31, 2007, the Eppes household was abuzz with activity. Don and Charlie had finished working on a case that had left both of them worn out. They had come home just after midnight, and Don had decided not to risk driving back to his apartment. Even though he grumbled, Alan enjoyed having both of his boys home. He had gotten up at the crack of dawn to start a pot of coffee and bake some muffins.

Charlie wasn't sure which scent had awakened him. It didn't much matter. His fatigued brain craved caffeine and his empty stomach rumbled at the scent of Dad's orange cranberry muffins. He got dressed and almost walked into Don in the hallway. "Hey," Don said in greeting, "morning, Buddy."

"Morning, Bro. You after the muffins and coffee too?"

Don grinned. "Yeah. With Dad baking we don't need alarm clocks. Hey, have you asked him yet?"

"Sorry. I was a little busy with a certain serial killer case for a certain FBI agent."

"We're running out of time. Let's ask him now."

They followed their noses to the kitchen and arrived just in time to see Alan pulling a pan of muffins from the oven. "I'm sorry," Alan said, though it was clear he was anything but sorry, "Did I wake you up?"

Don smirked as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "No. It was the neighbor's rooster crowing."

"The neighbors have a rooster?" Charlie looked confused.

"No," Alan said as he carefully lifted the muffins from the tin and placed them on a rack to cool. "Don't you recognize irony when you hear it?"

"Not until I have at least one cup of coffee. Hey, Dad, Don and I were wondering if you'd like to come with us tonight."

"I told you, Millie and I have plans."

Charlie grinned, shaking his head. "What you didn't tell us was that she has plans in Chicago and you have plans here."

"How'd you find out?"

"Amita and I tried to reach Millie yesterday afternoon. We found out she's visiting some relatives in Chicago. Now, do I have to turn the feds loose on you, or are you going to come clean? You were planning on sitting around here alone all night, weren't you?"

"And what exactly is wrong with that?"

"Nothing," Don soothed. "Nothing at all, Dad. But we would like to have you come along."

"Sure, and I'll bet your dates would be thrilled to have a fifth wheel along. Besides, I don't have a tux for that ritzy ball you're going to."

"Liz and Amita picked one out for you after we found out you were lying," Don narrowed his eyes at his father, accusingly.

"Lying is such a nasty word..." Alan protested weakly.

"It is," Charlie said, "how about obfuscating? Or dissembling? Come on, Dad. The girls really want you to come along. And you won't be a fifth wheel. Amita's Aunt Rachel is in town from Chennai. She's a widow and an engineer. And she's refusing to come along with us tonight because she doesn't want to be a fifth wheel."

"So, Dad," Don spread his hands, "you wouldn't be a fifth wheel. You'd be a date for a hot Indian widow. And Millie won't need to be jealous because Rachel Ramanujan will be on the other side of the world in a few days, never to be seen again."

Alan laughed. "All right! All right! I'll do it. But not because I don't want to be alone on New Year's Eve. To be honest, I was looking forward to watching Dick Clark, counting down the ball in Times Square and then going to bed."

Don and Charlie exchanged glances, then burst into laughter.

"What? You don't believe me?" Alan tried to scowl, but couldn't stop his grin. "Hot Indian widow, you say? Why does this sound like the last spam I got in my email?"