22 Someone's in the Kitchen
Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.
Someone's in the kitchen with Dinah,
Someone's in the kitchen I know,
Someone's in the kitchen with Dinah,
Strummin' on the ol' banjo and singin' . . .
Face sat by a window of the cabin staring morosely into the darkness as heavy raindrops streaked the glass. Hannibal sat in a chair nearby smoking an after-dinner cigar and reading the newspaper Melody brought in from her Ford Pinto.
The young woman seemed to have no problem allowing the Colonel to enjoy his favorite pastime. After eliciting his promise they would help her with the stalker, it was the least she could do.
Even though it appeared like he was intent on the sports page in front of him, the Colonel was deep in thought.
If she really does have a stalker, what are the chances he's followed her up here to her cabin? If he has, he must know she has company. Maybe that'll persuade him to leave her alone for the time being. But, just in case, we're going to have to take shifts watching for him.
The younger man sitting by the window interrupted his thoughts with a low impatient growl.
"How many more rounds of 'I've Been Working On the Railroad' do you think they're going to sing?" the Lieutenant complained under his breath. He shot an especially jealous look at his best friend who had his jacket off and his arms up to the elbows in hot soapy water.
After their meal, Melody offered to help Murdock with kitchen clean-up while the others relaxed. It wasn't long before the two were harmonizing on several folk songs while they washed and put away dishes.
Hannibal smirked at the Lieutenant and blew out a puff of smoke while contemplating the cigar in his hand. "You could have volunteered to help Murdock with the dirty dishes."
Face put his hands over his ears as the pilot blew a handful of soap suds at the young woman and started the chorus.
Fie, fi, fiddly-i-o,
Fie, fi, fiddly-i-o,
Fie, fi, fiddly-i-o-o o . . .
The Colonel smiled indulgently and joined in on the last line, if anything to rub it in.
Strummin' on th' ol' banjo.
"And to think she purposely made my acquaintance at that festival just to find us and get our help." Face winced as Murdock stopped singing and grinned at Melody. "Oh no! What's next? 'You Are My Sunshine?'"
"No, because then you'd be able to join in." Hannibal resumed trying to read his newspaper but kept one amused eye on the increased agitation of his Lieutenant.
It's good for him to once in a while know he isn't God's gift to women.
"Hey, darlin'. Ya know this one? The pilot took a deep breath and began with something to the tune of "On Top of Old Smoky."
On top of spaghetti,
All covered with cheese,
I lost my poor meatball,
When somebody sneezed . . .
"Sure I do." Draping the dish towel over one shoulder, Melody playfully twined her arm around his waist and began the next verse.
It rolled off the table,
And onto the floor,
And then my poor meatball
Rolled out of the door.
The Colonel scanned the two songsters and smiled. At least Melody seems more relaxed now. If she was making up the story about the stalker, she wouldn't have been so frightened as she told it. Unless she is a better actress than I knew from that Aquamaniac movie.
"I gotta agree wit' the Faceman." B. A. scowled from where he sat, the parts of his service pistol strewn across the newspaper-covered log coffee table. Hannibal glanced over at the black man in surprise until he saw the wink meant only for his eyes. He suppressed a smile and waited.
"See! Even B. A. agrees it wasn't right she take advantage of me like that!" Face crowed in triumph.
"Didn' say nothin' of the sort. I was just gonna say I was gettin' tired of the songs." The Sergeant ran a cleaning brush down the barrel of his pistol, not daring to look at the Lieutenant's chagrined expression.
"Tell me the truth, Hannibal. Am I losing my charm?"
There was so much worry laced in the con man's tone that the Colonel had to set down his paper to answer. "No, Lieutenant, you aren't losing your charm. Of course . . . " he added with a devilish glint to his eyes, " . . . I'm not really your type so I can't be seduced by your charms."
He raised innocent eyebrows at the furious glower the younger man shot at him.
Melody and Murdock strolled over to the couch and plopped down together, laughing and barely able to continue the tune.
Face rolled his eyes. "Now maybe they'll quiet down and we'll get some peace," he muttered.
It rolled in the garden
And under a bush
And then my poor meatball . . .
Before they could finish the refrain, a bullet came through the window nearest the couch and imbedded itself in the opposite wall. Melody let out a frightened yelp. Murdock scooped the young woman into his arms and dove for the floor while the others did the same.
Face, Hannibal and Murdock drew their weapons as B. A. scrambled to reassemble and load his own pistol.
"That's one way to get them to stop singing," the Lieutenant breathed as they waited to see if there would be any more gunfire.
Hannibal glanced at each one of his men and the young actress in turn.
At least we know for sure there is a stalker. Now to figure out what to do about him.