Scratch the Surface

arrived, and Janice’s cat, Dorothy-L, occupied a place on the couch. Dorothy-L was a thin and elderly calico with greasy-looking fur. Janice attributed the poor condition of the cat’s coat to a thyroid disorder for which the cat took an evidently ineffective medication. Since Janice had a tedious habit of talking at great length about Dorothy-L’s many ailments and of debating aloud about treatment options available at Angell, Felicity took care to say nothing about the cat. Instead, she greeted her fellow members of the board and apologized for being late.
    “You’re not late. We’re early,” said Jim Isaac, a Jewish-Chinese-African-American lawyer whose detective was a Jewish-Chinese-African-American lawyer.
    “Help yourself to food,” Janice said. “It’s in the kitchen.”
    Mainly to give herself something to do during the meeting, Felicity accepted the offer of food. Entering the small kitchen, she found the table spread with cold cuts, ham, American cheese, pickles, iceberg lettuce, tomatoes, rolls, bread, and dishes of mayonnaise and mustard. The kitchen had cheap cabinets and appliances installed perhaps ten years earlier. In Felicity’s view, the landlord should have left everything as it was in the hope of passing the place off as retro. Here and elsewhere, the walls and trim were thick with layers of old paint that a fresh coat of white had done nothing to disguise. Why did Janice insist on living in Boston, albeit in Lower Allston? Janice’s rent was probably even higher than Felicity had paid in Somerville.
    After making herself a half sandwich, she returned to the living room, which was lined with brick-and-board bookshelves that held hundreds of hardcover mysteries in protective plastic jackets. Janice was known to collect autographed first editions and always bought Felicity’s new hardcovers at Newbright Books and had Felicity sign them, but Felicity had had no idea of the great size of Janice’s collection.
    Sonya called the meeting to order. “Janice, could we have the minutes of the last meeting? And keep it brief, please.“ Sonya took a bite of a thick sandwich.
    “All of us were present,” Janice said. “The minutes were read and accepted. Ditto the treasurer’s report. We agreed to make December’s meeting a holiday party with no speaker. Pending Ronald’s approval.”
    “Thank you,” said Sonya, her mouth still somewhat full. “Old business? None? New business?”
    “Speakers,” said Hadley O’Connor, who looked handsome enough to remind Felicity of why she had had a fling with him. She also remembered the intolerable violence of his books. She consoled herself with the reflection that he lacked the strength to toss the caber. “We’re getting repetitious,” Hadley said. He had made himself a sandwich even thicker than Sonya’s. When he lifted it to his mouth, slices of meat, cheese, and tomato began to slide out, and he was forced to take a big bite to prevent the food from falling into his lap.
    “Enough forensics,” Felicity agreed.
    “There’s an anthropologist who’d talk about cannibalism,” Janice said.
    “On some South Sea island?” Jim asked. “Or homegrown, so to speak?”
    “The Donner Party. That kind of thing.” Janice, too, began to eat.
    “That’s not really very relevant, is it?” Sonya said. “Cannibalism would be fine, but it has to be criminal cannibalism. No one’s going to want to hear about some pitiful group of starving people who ate each other just to survive. And if the, uh, victims were already dead, I mean, if they’d starved to death, well, that has nothing to offer us, does it? We are crime writers, after all.”
    “Then there’s a forensic psychiatrist,” Janice said.
    “All they’re interested in is serial killers,” said Hadley, “and a lot of psychologizing about unhappy childhoods.”
    “Would it be possible,” Felicity asked hesitantly, “to have something upbeat for a change?” In the hope that someone else would suggest a cheerful topic, she took a bite of her sandwich and chewed it thoroughly. It tasted terrible. No one else spoke up. “For example,” she went on, “I always enjoy a good toxicology lecture. Common poisons under your kitchen sink. That kind of thing.”
    “Been done,” said Jim “We had that guy last spring. You weren’t there.”
    “Well, what about finding an agent, getting published, and so on?” Sonya suggested. “Quite a few of the people who come to meetings are