Rivqua and Zana stared at each other with complete incomprehension. This wasn't making any sense. The bank manager laughing her owl head off at the notion of her cousin, Hoot Gaas, being a murder suspect.
At length she petered off. Residual chuckles came up like small coughs.
"I'm sorry, Ma'am," Rivqua said, reopening contact. "I think you have us at a disadvantage. 'Cause we're not following one bit."
Wiping her big round eyes the owl lady said, "No dear, I'm sure you're not. Ooh, I needed that. My my. You know, back where I come from, that's what we call a hooter."
She stopped in her tracks.
"A 'Hoot'-er!" she repeated. And off she went once more.
The robot clerk was perplexed by the manager's behaviour. He came up to the girls.
"This is most irregular. Should we alert a software specialist? A physician?"
Zana shook her head. The laughter slowed quicker this time. Owl lady collected herself, straightened her tufts, patted down her plume, made an effort to resume professional conduct.
Rivqua helped her. "I take it that Mister Hoot Gaas is not a likely murder suspect. In your opinion."
"Let me tell you something about Hoot Gaas," the bank lady said, back in charge. "He is incapable of hurting a fly. Why, only last year he turned vegetarian. Can't stand violence or blood. Silly fellow. Fear of conflict is what it is. That's why he tucks himself away in that control room! Keeps an eye on the floor using monitors and sharp eyesight. And has to look away whenever security gets to the rough stuff. Poor lad. Hoot a murder suspect? Ha! Not likely."
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