I started to get up out of the chair.
“You sit right where you are,” Lowry said, “and don’t make a move. Babe, if he wants a couple of eggs, cook them for him.”
She pouted, and said, “I don’t want to cook for any sex killer. Why don’t you let him cook them himself?”
“He got hungry too suddenly,” Lowry said, his eyes cunning. “He wanted to do the cooking. Let him get hold of a frying pan full of hot grease and you know what could happen. He could fling that in my eyes and then what would happen to you?”
“Oh, oh!” she said.
I said, “Suspicious, aren’t you?”
“You’re damn right I’m suspicious,” Lowry grinned. “I’ve had one experience with you. You’re smart.”
The redhead got up and cooked a couple of eggs. I sat there and watched them sputtering in the frying pan. She didn’t make a good job of cooking them. There was too much crust on the bottom and there were lots of bubbles cooked into the sides so that it was a nasty mess swimming in grease.
“Take the pepper off the table, honey,” Lowry said.
“I want pepper on my eggs.”