“Yes, sir. Um…Merry Christmas, Mr. Vincent.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I went into the stairwell and took the stairs two and three at a time. I had better things to do than hang around the WBIS—I paused and then grinned and continued up to seven. Yeah, I really did.
* * * *
Since I was running late, an extra half hour wouldn’t make much difference. I called Quinn to let him know I was home, then showered and shaved and changed into jeans and a long-sleeved polo shirt. The clothes I’d wear tomorrow were already at Quinn’s, so all I had to do now was run a comb through my damp hair and put on my overcoat. DC was having an unseasonably cold winter.
It took a few trips to bring the packages down to my car. Except for Novotny’s, they were all bulky and awkward, and I didn’t want to drop them.
And whil
