"Those Parsons keep it clean,” he tells Lieutenant Mike.
"They've got their reasons,” Mike replies. He's got some sort of feeling about Keith Parsons. The information sharing goes one way, as far as he's concerned.
"I mean no scraps, no junk, no reusable anything,” Freddy relates. "They've got some mighty consciousness going on in there,”
Mike speaks Freddy's language by now. There's been a history of sharing. Not usually a patient man, he lets Freddy ramble on. His coffee's getting cold as they sit there in the Main Street Diner. Freddy would like another slice of pie but Mike is holding out.
"So they got a disposal,” Mike says. "Come on. Tell me what you saw,”
"Nothing,” Freddy says. "They do recycling too. Someone drinks a lot of Gatorade and Red Bull. Or maybe one of them drinks the Gatorade and the other one the Red Bull. I could dust for prints and find out,” Freddy chuckles. He thinks he's being funny. Mike doesn't even smile. He's staring at the cream congealing in his cup.
"They get some junk mail,” Freddy says, "I'm surprised they don't recycle it. Catalogs especially. What a waste. She likes furniture and gardening, I'd say. I'd guess they own the house because of all the mortgage re-fi junk they get. Someone's getting old - they get a lot of cruise brochures and retirement shopping specials. And some other banking stuff,”
"Banking?” Mike looks up.
"Yeah, a couple of things,”
"What bank?" Mike asks.
"Fourth Fidelity was one. Hedgerow Funds the other. First was bogus, though. It wasn't addressed to them," said Freddy, handing over the mail.