Kill Me Twice: (A John Cansler Novel – Book 2)

By Burt H. Slaughter

Desperate men do desperate and sometimes foolish things.

This story chronicles the life of a compulsive gambler who chose to try to clean the slate by faking his own death and wound up on a slippery slope and in the business of prostitution. In the end, he paid with his life.

John Cansler, Private Investigator, is called into action when Cindy the grieving widow who is (secretly) glad to be rid of the lying, cheating louse, receives a package from beyond the grave.

Can she find love again? How will the knowledge that her dead husband is not really dead affect her ability to love again? Can she persuade John to give up his exciting, adventurous life as a P. I. in exchange for a ready-made family?

A close-up look at how a weakness or addiction can lead to a disastrous end.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 6, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499079869

Book preview

Copyright © 2014 by Burt H. Slaughter.

ISBN:      Softcover      978-1-4990-7985-2

                eBook           978-1-4990-7986-9

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This book is a work of fiction. Many places spoken of do exist, but the people and events are figments of the author’s imagination and any similarity to actual persons or events, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 10/01/2014

Xlibris LLC

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www.Xlibris.com

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CONTENTS

Dedication

Prologue

PART I

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

~ Part II ~

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

PART II

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

PART III

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Author’s Note

Author’s Biography

PREVIEW

The Unsolved Hijacking Of Flight 305/ How Justice was Denied

The Kiss of Death

Other Books by Burt H. Slaughter

The UNSOLVED HIJACKING OF FLIGHT 305

The KISS of DEATH (a John Cansler Novel—Book 1)

DEDICATION

Without the love, support, and encouragement of my wife, Laura Edna, and my three daughters, Melissa, Marcy, and Julie, this book would probably never have seen the light of day.

Laura is also my proof-reader, editor, critic, and best friend. She has been the source of many good suggestions, most of which have been accepted and woven into the story line.

Just as importantly, she usually brings my lunch and sometimes, reminds me when it’s time to take my pills.

Thanks to all!

Burt H. Slaughter

PROLOGUE

What is there about the fear of dying that makes us feel and think things that otherwise would be out of the question? Do we sometimes put ourselves in such a predicament that dying would seem to be better than living?

Can death be the ultimate escape from all our worries here on earth? Or is it simply the coward’s way out?

Doesn’t it sometimes take more courage to face the problems of everyday living than the prospect of ending it all?

You know, I wouldn’t mind trying death if I could come back after deciding I didn’t like it, after all. The problem I have with death is that it’s so permanent…. forever and ever…for always…for eternity. That’s a long, long time.

But what if you could die (not really) and have all of your worries (at least your money worries) disappear? What would you have to give up; your spouse, family, friends, and your whole way of life? Would it be worth it to avoid a fate worse than death?

You would, in effect, have to be willing to be born again as another person, in another place, giving up all things familiar. Could you live with yourself for the hurt you brought to your children and others who loved and depended upon you?

I came to know Robert Paine through the eyes of Cindy Paine and her children, Andy and Katie. I didn’t like what I saw. From what Cindy said, he seemed to be an overbearing, arrogant, manipulating, self-indulgent prick.

But then again, I’m sure there have probably been a few people who have said the same about me, so I guess it’s a matter of perspective, or relativity, or something like that.

Sorry, I don’t want to sound too cerebral.

I guess you can tell I have little sympathy for anyone who would destroy their family just because of a fondness for gambling, or an alcohol problem, or any of the other vices which get out of control because of poor personal choices.

To me, it’s all about setting priorities.

Of course, I must confess, by the time I thought I had come to know Robert Paine well, I was a little biased. I had developed a soft spot for Cindy and her kids, so it was okay with me that Robert was no longer around.

Most things have a way of sorting themselves out in the long run, sometimes with tragic endings. Such was the case with Robert Paine. Sometimes, problems are like quicksand; the more you struggle, the deeper in you get.

If you ever see things going wrong in your own life, stop struggling and reach out for a lifeline. It’s there for the asking. Think about what is really important to you; set your priorities and reach out for help if you need it.

I hope you enjoy my story and that it makes you stop and smell the roses now and then and reflect on the really important things in life; your family and others who love and depend on you.

Life is short, so spread a little sunshine and give those you love flowers while they’re living.

Good Reading!

John Cansler

~ PART I ~

CHAPTER 1

Seventy year old Sammy, The Boss, Gagliano, sat in his burgundy, leather, tufted-back chair at his cherry-wood desk and quietly studied the file that lay spread out before him. The many creases in his brow and the gray in his hair bespoke of not only his age, but many sleepless nights and the stress of running a major gambling empire. He had the fine features of a true Sicilian; the high cheek-bones, the olive skin, the small nose, and the black eyes.

It was Sunday night, May the 23rd, 2010. He glanced at his Calendar Rolex; it said 9:15 PM.

His office was located in one corner of the penthouse suite on the tenth floor of the Star Hotel & Casino, a private gentleman’s only club, which was located nine blocks southeast of the area known as glitter gulch where the original Golden Nugget Hotel & Casino had stood.

There were no exterior twinkling lights, no exterior signs that beckoned the average visitor to Las Vegas to enter; just a non-descript, brown brick building that was often mistaken for the home of an insurance company, or perhaps a real estate firm. The only hint that it might be something different was a well-lit portico which allowed arriving guests to disembark from the limos comfortably in all kinds of weather.

The Boss wanted it that way. He wanted nothing to do with the riff-raff. His guests were the richest of the rich, the ones who could afford to drop $50,000 and not bat an eye. There was no walk-in trade and reservations were made by invitation only. Vacancies were rare. Limo transportation to and from the area where the private and charter jets were housed at the airport was free and continuous, food and lodging were free; female entertainment was available for $500/hour or $5,000/night.

The Boss was part owner of the Moonlite Bunny Ranch which is a brothel located just northeast of Carson City, Nevada. As such, he could provide up to 50 beautiful Bunnies for his discerning guests; one for each room. Each Bunny was allowed to keep one-half of each dollar she earned. Those Bunnies not in service were housed dormitory style on the ninth floor of the hotel.

The first floor was the greeting and welcoming area and also the kitchen and restaurant area. The second floor was the slot machines area; the third floor was for other games of chance; roulette wheels, craps tables, black-jack tables and such. The fourth floor was for Texas Hold’em poker, and straight no-limit poker. The fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth floors were for the guests.

Occasionally, there was the one guest who ran up a tab, then couldn’t pay his bill. The Boss was carefully researching the file of one such guest; a gentleman by the name of Robert Paine from Dallas, Texas.

Sammy had a custom-designed computer program with which to provide booking and screening for his guests. A small group of three people made the reservations, using referrals, confidential sources and cultivated contacts to provide personalized information and supply critical in-depth knowledge about each guest, such as; their favorite color, their favorite kind of music, which kind of Bunnies they liked to party with, their occupation, net worth, location and value of all owned real estate, their strengths, and especially their weaknesses.

But Sammy was from the old school. He didn’t especially like computers; he preferred to look at printed files, so he sat…. poring over the dossier of Robert Paine on his desk.

Robert Paine, who was president of a small independent bank in Dallas, Texas, had been a frequent guest at the hotel and up until now had not been a problem. But it was clear Mr. Paine was a compulsive gambler and now, with a string of bad luck, had run up a tab of $400,000 which he could not immediately pay.

That was a problem.

The Boss had a special group which consisted of three burly guys known as The Collection Agency. These men were charged with the task of convincing the gamblers to pay their debts. They also provided security for The Boss whenever needed.

Thirty three year old Joey Benito, an ex-bouncer who had been imported from the streets of Brooklyn, New York, was the leader of this group. He was 6'3", 280 lbs. of muscle and reasonably intelligent. He had been a member of the squad for five years. Second in command was a 220 pound Latino guy named Pepe Santos who had also been a bouncer working in a little dive on the south side of Tijuana, Mexico. Third was a freckle-faced Irishman named Billy McFadden. Billy, at 29, was the youngest in the group, and although was a little smaller than the other two, was the guy who enjoyed the physical side of the collections business the most. Sporting a nose which had obviously been broken, he was like a high-strung racing horse prancing nervously in the starting gate before a big race.

Nobody knew where Billy came from. He just showed up looking for work one day and Sammy liked the way he carried himself, so he was hired.

The Collection Agency had quarters next door to Sammy’s office. He pushed a button on his desk phone to summon Joey, who entered the room momentarily.

Joey, take one of the boys with you and go down to Room 616. A Mr. Robert Paine is there. Escort him to my office now, please.

Sure thing, Boss. We’ll be right back.

He exited back through the door and motioned to Pepe to join him.

Sammy poured himself a small Jack Daniels whiskey. Even though he had seen much violence in his day, he abhorred this part of the business and left it to his underlings. But it wasn’t time for that yet. With any luck, it might be avoided.

About ten minutes had passed before he heard a knock on his door.

Come in, he said in a loud voice.

Joey came into the room, followed by a well-dressed, salt-and-pepper haired man of small-to-average build who looked like he might have been an attorney, with Pepe trailing behind. Joey turned to Mr. Paine and said,

Mr. Paine, this is Mr. Gagliano, the owner of this here establishment.

Joey and Pepe retreated a respectful distance and stood like guards until Sammy looked at Joey and said,

That will be all, guys.

Joey nodded and then he and Pepe left the room.

The Boss turned to Robert Paine,

Thank you for coming to see me. Please have a seat.

Robert sat in one of two leather wing chairs across from Sammy’s desk and said,

I didn’t have much choice, did I?

No, I’m afraid not. He paused, gave a little half-smile, and said,

I’m sure you can guess why I wanted to see you.

Yeah, well, I guess it’s about my tab at the hotel which I’m unable to pay right this minute, but rest assured…. I’ll have it for you shortly.

The Boss stared at Robert with piercing, black eyes and said slowly and quietly, but in a menacing way,

That’s what I’m counting on, Mr. Paine. Being a business man yourself, you can understand the necessity of collecting our debts. But I’m not an unreasonable fellow. I’ll give you 30 days to come up with the money. If we have not received payment in full by, he glanced at his calendar watch again, June 24th, my collection agency will be showing up at your doorstep and you’re no turnip, if you get my drift. Do we understand each other?

Robert Paine attempted a weak smile. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, remembering the old adage you can’t get blood out of a turnip,

I understand, Mr. Gagliano. I can assure you; I want to keep my blood where it is. I will get your money.

He gave Robert a little crooked smile.

Mr. Paine, my records indicate you are a collector, of sorts; baseball cards, I understand. Is that correct?

Yeah, I don’t have any of the latest ones, but I collected quite a few when I was growing up.

That’s nice. It’s good to have a passion for something, don’t you agree?

Yes, I do. My collection is not worth a lot, but it has a great deal of sentimental value to me.

That’s nice! I, also, am a collector, Mr. Paine. Would you like to see my collection?

Sure! said Robert, eager to explore a possible common interest. Sammy opened a side desk drawer and pulled out a polished, cigar-box shaped dresser valet of cherry wood, walked around the desk and sat next to Robert. He carefully opened the valet to expose the contents, which were under glass.

Robert looked at the objects. At first glance, they appeared to be very pale-colored baby carrots. Not understanding why someone would collect baby carrots, he took a closer look.

Then he saw a fingernail!

Oh, God! Robert jumped back and almost fell over the chair!

Quite a unique collection, wouldn’t you say, Mr. Paine?

Robert was speechless.

What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?

He rose, signaling the meeting was over and said,

I do hope I’ve made my point, Mr. Paine. Good night, and have a pleasant flight back to Dallas. I hope the next time I see you, you will still be in one piece.

Robert Paine rose, still unable to speak, nodded at the Boss and walked swiftly from the room. He felt beads of moisture on his brow and upper lip and realized he was sweating, even though the temperature was very cool. He walked quickly to the elevator and rode back down to the sixth floor where he quickly threw his things into a suitcase and called for the bellman. His chartered jet was scheduled to leave at 11:00 PM.

His stomach was upset and he was in physical pain. His brown eyes were bloodshot from staying up late. Things had not gone according to plan this time. He had such a positive feeling that Lady Luck would be with him this trip that he kept doubling down on his bets until he was way past his usual limit for losses.

What would Cindy, his wife of 14 years, say or do if she found out? There would hell to pay. Of that, he was sure. Of course, he was totally in control of the family finances. It was one way of controlling her. He treated her like a mushroom…. kept her in the dark and fed her manure. To him, she was just an empty-headed plaything, a trophy wife whose place was in the kitchen, bare-footed and pregnant.

The pregnant part he could do without.

She’d started menopause a little early and had been going through night sweats lately. One minute she was freezing, the next minute she was burning up. It had been driving him crazy, so he had started sleeping in the guest bedroom.

Cindy had suspected for some time Robert had a gambling problem because of his frequent visits to Las Vegas.

On an earlier occasion in one of her mood swings, she found the anger and courage to confront him.

You think I don’t know about your little problem, Robert? All these trips you make could not be all business. Do you need help with a gambling problem? Please admit it and get some help. I don’t like what’s happening to us. I just feel we’re drifting apart; you go off and leave me and the children alone for long periods of time. There seems to be a part of your world where there’s no place for me. What if I became seriously ill…or had a serious accident while you’re gone? I feel vulnerable and unprotected. Can you understand that?

You could always call your mom to come over and stay with you a few days. You know, she’s only 20 minutes away. Don’t make a big deal about this. I just need to get away for a little fun occasionally. It’s nothing I can’t handle…. and I usually win more than I lose.

I seriously doubt that…and I really wish you would get some help..

Don’t sweat it. Okay?

She could hear the anger in his voice

Cindy knew there was no point in arguing with him. It just made her more miserable.

Robert Paine was typical of so many that are addicted to gambling. He knew he had a problem, but just couldn’t stay away from the action on his own. He made up his mind to join Gamblers Anonymous as soon as he could the following week. He knew he had to put up some fences. But he also realized the horses had already escaped from the corral.

Robert had been a guest at the hotel on many occasions, but this had not been a typical visit. Sometimes he won modest amounts, but mostly he lost. It was the thrill of the action that had kept him coming back.

As he settled into the cushy leather seat of the charter Lear jet for his flight back to Dallas, his mind began to consider the result of his predicament. This time was different! This time he had really fucked up! He pondered his situation: how was he ever going to come up with $400 grand within 30 days? He’d find a way. He had no choice.

Gambling was Robert’s most serious addiction, but not his only interest. He also loved to fly an airplane and go sky-diving occasionally. He had earned his Private Pilot’s license while getting through SMU on a scholarship and kept current by renting a small two-passenger Cessna 150 occasionally from an FBO (fixed-base operator) at the Addison Airport, which was about 12 miles north of his house and just east of Carrollton, Texas. He had also belonged to a Denney’s Skydiving Club located at the same airport long enough to get certified to jump solo.

Home for the 45 year old Robert and his family was an 5000 sq. ft. residence located at 3637 Stratford Drive in the affluent neighborhood of Highland Park, just a few blocks from where he had gone to school. The sprawling, multi-level, two-story mansion was accentuated by sharp Victorian-like gables on the upper rooms that seemed to pierce the sky. The grounds were immaculate; the lawn and shrubbery were manicured and well-tended by a landscape service.

He had been married to Cindy, who was just 39, for about 14 years and had two children; 12 year old Andrew (or Andy, as they called him) and 10 year old Katie.

Andy was of average height for his age and had sandy hair and a few freckles on his nose. His guy friends called him a nerd; most of the girls thought he was cute. He was a little self-conscious now that he was sporting braces on his teeth.

Katie was a darling, slightly round-faced girl who loved to wear her hair in a pony-tail. She always had a sunny disposition and was a favorite of many of her teachers. She also loved to help her mother bake cookies.

Robert had been in the right place at the right time when a number of his wealthy fraternity friends had decided they wanted to be in the banking business. Because Robert had a degree in finance and prior experience with starting up a bank, he was appointed to the position of President.

Cindy also had a degree in finance. In fact, she had met Robert in that same accounting class at SMU.

Things were going along great at work. Depositors and loan seekers kept flocking to the bank, and with the easy money policy of the Feds, profits were soaring.

The balance sheet showed a net worth of $22 Million with up to $20 Million being stored in the bank vaults each night.

But things at home were another matter. His relationship with Cindy had deteriorated in recent months, partly because of his late nights and out-of-town trips. He had told her it was always business, but Cindy was no fool. She could smell the perfume sometimes on his clothing and see smudges of lipstick on his shirts. She knew what was going on and she finally reached a point where she was so fed up, she stopped having relations with him, so she really didn’t care what he was doing, as long as he kept paying the bills.

Robert attributed Cindy’s emotional state partly to her hormones being out of whack.

Women! What a pain in the ass, at times!

It was not a happy time for either of them. Robert loved his wife but wasn’t in love with Cindy anymore and felt she was, at best, a safe harbor but now that he had been banished from the master bedroom he felt justified in his dalliances and sometimes sought the comfort offered by the Bunnies at the Star Hotel.

Flying time back to Dallas was estimated to be about two and one half hours. The drive from Dallas Love Field took only about 20 minutes. Robert arrived back at his home in Highland Park about 2:30AM. He unlocked the door from the garage and let himself in, disarmed the alarm, then set down his suitcase. His mouth felt like he had been chewing on cotton balls, so he went to the refrigerator and poured himself a small glass of orange juice, drank it, then headed for the family room sofa to sleep for the night. That night he dreamed of Mr. Gagliano wearing a necklace made of fingers.

Sunlight came streaming through the open windows about 7:00 Monday morning. Voices of the children from the breakfast area came seeping into his consciousness and he slowly awakened. His head felt like he had a vise on it and his vision was blurry. He arose, yawned, stretched and scratched his belly, and made his way to the nearest bathroom. After emptying his bladder and splashing water on his face and hands and drying both, he stumbled into the breakfast area.

Cindy was busy preparing lunches for the children. She looked up from her chores as Robert entered the room.

I see you made it home okay. How was your trip?

Lady Luck is a bitch! That’s all I’m gonna’ say!

My, my! Aren’t we feeling grouchy this morning?

Yeah! It’s worse than that. I feel like shit! He realized the children were present and quickly said,

Excuse me, kids! Daddy didn’t mean to say that.

The children laughed, then gathered up their lunches and backpacks and left to catch their bus for school and Robert went upstairs to shower and dress for work.

He usually arrived at work by 10:00 and sometimes stayed until everyone else had gone home. He had decided he was a night person…or at least an afternoon person, since he really didn’t get going until late afternoon.

Cindy had worked outside the home as a CPA for only a short time after they had been married. Robert had a substantial income and always paid the bills, so Cindy had been a stay-at-home mom after the children came. Standing 5'8", she kept a girlish figure by frequent and regular visits to the gym and playing tennis, as well. Even at 39, her body was toned and firm and she was quite beautiful, having beautiful skin, full sensuous lips, startling blue eyes, long lashes and ample breasts.

Cindy was distraught with the state of affairs at home. She could see that Robert’s absences were beginning to affect the children. One evening when Robert was gone and Cindy needed her mother, Jane Porter, to babysit while she went to a late dental appointment, she sought her advice.

Her mother, who lived in Mesquite, a suburb of Dallas with her dad, was someone she could always call on. After she got home from her dental appointment, she sat at the kitchen table with her mom and unburdened her soul.

Mom, I’m very unhappy with my situation. I don’t know what to do about Robert. We’re living like strangers. He goes and does his thing without including me or the kids. I’m almost certain he has a gambling problem. It seems he’s always going to Las Vegas. He says it’s just business, but I think different. I’m pretty sure he has a gambling problem and I think there are other women, also. I smell unfamiliar perfume on his clothes, and sometimes there are lipstick smudges on his shirts.

Her eyes filled with tears as she continued,

I confronted him a few days ago and he didn’t deny it. I asked him to get some help. He just said he would think about it. I’m at my wits end. Do you have any suggestions?

"Well, dear, you’ve told him how you feel. There’s not much else you can do. You know, he may be having a mid-life crisis. We don’t talk about it much but there is such a thing as male menopause. Some guys go a little nutty for a while. For some, it may be an almost uncontrollable urge to buy a motorcycle or a Corvette, or do some of the other things they always wanted to do when they were younger but for some reason, maybe financial, they couldn’t. It’s a little bit like teenagers that go through a phase, maybe caused by hormonal changes in their bodies, but eventually grow out of it. Maybe, if you give him a little time, he’ll grow out of it." She paused to let her words sink in with Cindy, and then continued,

Have you thought about going to counseling?

I don’t think he would be willing, but I’ll talk to him about it.

I know you don’t want to think about it, but, of course, your last option is divorce.

Mom, I had much rather he get some help with his gambling problem and whatever other issues are bothering him. Going through a divorce would make me feel like a failure; besides its painful and really hard on the kids.

I know, dear, but sometimes it’s less painful than staying in a bad marriage. I’m just saying…. it’s something to think about. You know your father and I love you and we’ll always be here for you and the kids, no matter what.

I know, mom…. thanks….. for everything. I feel better just getting it off my chest.

Anytime, Sweetheart. She rose from the table and gave her daughter a hug.

Well, I better get back to the house and get some dinner for your father. If I’m gone too long, he’ll be squawking.

Her mother left and Cindy went into the family room where Andy and Katie had already started on their homework.

*     *     *

Robert’s bank, the New Partner’s Bank of Dallas, was located at the corner of N. Central Expressway and Webb St. very near where he lived in Highland Park, which was an affluent neighborhood about two miles north of downtown Dallas.

He arrived at work and went immediately to his office, barely acknowledging the good morning offered by his secretary, Nancy Palmer.

He poured himself a cup of strong black coffee, sat behind his glassed-top cherry-finished desk, set his coffee mug down and put his head in his hands. Scrubbing his face as hard as he might, he could not make the ache in his head or the desperation in his heart go away. He opened a side drawer, took out a bottle of aspirin tablets, popped two in his mouth, and washed them down with a swig of coffee. He closed his eyes and tried to black out the last few days as though they had not happened. But the reality was still there. He was in deep doo-doo and he had 30 days to find a way out.

He checked his calendar for the day…. nothing pressing; just a meeting with the two loan officers at 11:00 AM and the regular staff meeting after the tellers closed and balanced at 6:00 PM. He could make time to think about his options to raise $400K.

He thought about his personal liquid assets. There was only $40,000 in his account at the bank. His IRA amounted to another $150K. He thought about pawning Cindy’s jewelry but he knew he could never get away with that. He was totally against tapping his IRA account, knowing he would have to pay a 10% penalty to the Feds on any amount withdrawn. So basically, he had only $40K.

He decided to think on it for a while. Maybe one of his wealthy buddies would lend him the money. The only problem was, his buddies were not risk-takers. They would, most likely, require collateral…. and the only thing he had was his home and he had very little equity in the house. He was in a fine pickle.

Besides, he did not want to divulge the reason for the loan to his friends. That would not be good for his standing at the bank.

Oh, well. I have 30 days to solve the problem. And I know they won’t kill me, ’cause then they’d never get their money, he thought. But he knew these boys played rough and they might make him wish he was dead.

He went through the rest of the day on auto-pilot, barely aware of the passing of time.

A week went by and Robert was no closer to finding a way out of his dilemma. He had pretty much put his head in the sand regarding his money woes.

Anyway, he wasn’t so sure he was in any real danger. The passing of time assuaged his earlier feelings of doom. So he let it slide.

CHAPTER 2

Cindy had planned a backyard cook-out and pool party for Saturday evening of May 29h to celebrate the end of school. Rodney and Joan Filmore, their next-door neighbors on one side had already come, by the time Robert arrived home at 6:30. Everyone was gathered at the rear of the house on the flagstone patio, laughing and talking and drinking beer. The kids were laughing and splashing in the pool.

Robert stepped from the back door,

Hey, Rod; Joan! How’s tricks? He shook hands with Rodney, hugged Joan, and