by Tom Fowler

Created on: July 31, 2008

Breakfast Time

"Like another cup of coffee, dear? How about you, Betty?" Jim asked, amiably. Jim Salisbury was always unfailingly polite to his wife and daughter, even though both had caused him much grief through the years.

"Yeah, thanks," Jackie answered, absentmindedly.

"Me, too," Betty said, looking at her father with wary eyes. His old-fashioned gentility had always made the 25-year old her feel slightly uncomfortable and she did not understood why.

Jim poured the steaming coffee all around. It was one of the few things that all three of them had in common: a love for fresh, hot coffee.

The women were obviously nervous. Jim was also, although he took pains not to show it. He asked, "Everyone enjoy breakfast?"

"Yes, it was good. Thanks, Dad."

"It was good, Jim." Jackie said, again with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm.

"We'll have to do this more often," he said, amicably, smiling at his wife and daughter."

"Yes, I suppose we should," Betty agreed, starting to feel perspiration beads in the palms of her hands. Jim noticed that she was beginning to rub them together nervously.

"Jim, lets get on with it," Jackie said, a sharp edge in her voice now that was missing earlier.

"All right, then," he answered, his tone changing to one of seriousness and formality. "Betty, you know why we invited you for breakfast. We need to talk this out."

Betty, who had not eaten a morning meal with her parents in years, nodded her head and said nothing.

"I still can't believe you want to have this conversation," Jackie said, crossly. She lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.

"Oh, I think you can believe it well enough, dear," he answered, dryly, not taking his eyes off of her.

"Well, then get on with it. I'm certain Betty wishes to be somewhere else." It was one of the few things that mother and daughter had agreed on in quite some time.

"OK. Looking at his daughter, Jim said, "One of us is responsible for Mike's death."
"You think so?" Betty tried to remain calm but her voice was shaky and she continued to rub her palms,

"I think so, all right. One of us is a murderer."

"What makes you think that?" Jackie asked, defensively, "All of us got sick."

"True enough, but only one us died."

"Could have been any of us. You heard what the doctor said. We're lucky we lost only Mike."

"I don't think luck had anything to do with it." Jim said, a trace of anger now in his voice that frightened the two women.

"You think I killed Mike?" Betty asked, her face now white as chalk.

"I don't know."

"You think I killed

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