CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“What a great idea. Haven’t had a dog in what seems like eons.” Grinning, Rey licked French’s mustard from her fingertips and leaned back on the three-seater.
The three of us were seated on the lanai under a wonderfully warming sun. We’d left the agency at two when a small fire in a vintage-clothing shop three doors down had created minor chaos in the vicinity. We’d seen enough blazes to last a lifetime, courtesy of our last case, when two art galleries, and bodies, had been torched. After stopping off at a couple of stores and making a few fervent purchases, home we hurried, gleefully slipping into cut-offs, tank tops, and flip-flops.
“These fries are pretty decent for frozen,” Linda chirped, popping a curly one into her mouth.
“Button’s liking them, too.” I offere
