Frosted Scotchman

Google search.

“Masada Morgan”



Oh my god. Ten pages of Morgan’s. Page after page of M. Morgan. This will take me all night, I thought. Then an idea popped into my head. The dailey paper’s obets. But when did she die? A month ago? Two months.

I delved into the Beacon’s obits, starting a month ago.

Damn! Amazing how many people died last month. But no Masada Morgan.

I go back another month. I almost missed it. A short obit with her name and ‘arrangements later’. Then nothing.

I searched page after page, still nothing.

I’m sure my darling had other friends, but who? She never spoke of any other friend. I racked my mind. What do I know about Masada. One. They met when they both worked at the Frosted Scotchman. Masada was into Goth. She looked spookie with all that black. Yes! I remember it was the gothic look that got her fired.

I retieved the yellow pages from the book shelf. What the hell would the Frosted Scotchman be listed under?

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