“This is why you can’t find a boyfriend,” Peggy said as she jabbed another dark red stain on the customer’s blazer with a white topped straight pin.

Molly gave an exaggerated sigh and lowered the volume on her favorite true crime podcast, Serial Vox. The audio on the Babylon Beach serial killer was quieter but still audible. Her mother huffed and added another stain marker pin to the customer’s jacket. Peggy turned the dark material under the bright shop light.

“First, boys, gross. Second, this killer is still out there. Killing women, somebody’s daughters. Babylon Beach is like twenty minutes away. I could learn something about this crime. Find a clue. Listening is a public service. Don’t you want me to help people, Mother?” Molly said.

“Kids today. Do you hear this nonsense, Tony? All murder this and serial killer that. When I was her age I worked not listen to the radio all day. I watched what my father watched and shut my face,” Peggy called out to the back of the dry cleaner’s.

“Speaking of crime, I loved that show with the coroner. He lived on a boat. Solve mysteries. Do you remember that one?” Tony chimed in from the sewing machine. “What’s the name? It’ll come to me.”

“Help someone my foot, help me run the business instead stab stab, slash slash. How is she going to attract a good husband with a head full of stab stab, slash slash? I ask you Tony who wants a pretty girl with an ugly mind?”

“I loved all of those Saturday Night Murder Mysteries, too. Columbo, MacMillan and Wife. But that medical examiner series was my favorite. It’ll come to me. He was always eating veal piccata and making his assistant Sam do all the work. Boy o boy, it’s on the tip of my tongue,” Tony said, still bent over his Singer.

The sewer purred as Tony hemmed a pair of dress pants. Annoyed, Peggy spun the heavily stained garment searching for missed spots. Pale sand sprinkled onto her countertop.

“I am helping, Mother. I’m here taking orders. Mister Sports Jacket there said he was hunting deer last weekend and needing extra attention paid to removing the blood stains. I entered that info into the system Wasn’t that helpful to you to know the type of stain?” Molly said whining.

“Kids today. They don’t listen because they know everything. Google google, stab stab, slash slash. It is summertime foolish girl. Deer hunting season is in the fall,” Peggy said.

Peggy reached into the jacket’s inside pocket. She fished out a crumbled map of beach attraction, a single earring, a few coins. Mumbled how she didn’t even want a boyfriend, Molly fetched a customer belonging envelope. With the pencil from her ear, Molly wrote the down the jacket owner’s name and number for his items envelope. Peggy searched the last pocket.

“That’s what the customer said, all right. Apologized for the tough job and everything and even said a doe put up a fight and made a mess of his jacket,” Molly said and paused pencil in the air.

“Who goes hunting in a blazer, Molly? On the beach? Were the deer surfing on their way to a meeting. This is what I mean. Head full of murder podcasts, all talk, no listen,” Peggy said, withdrawing her hand from the pocket.

Under the bright light, she held up a shiny red polished fingernail with a chunk of bloodied finger still attached. Peggy dropped it on the countertop. Mother and daughter stared in wordless horror.

Chuckling, Tony added, “The coroner always solved the crime at the end. Figured out what the police couldn’t. Had that rumpled guy from the Odd Couple in it. Not Felix Unger, the other one. Anyways, they just don’t make good shows like that nowadays.”