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Even with the extra stop and chat with Annie, it couldn’t have taken more than twenty minutes total to get to the PD’s office, but Mike was waiting in the parking lot when I got there.
“What took you so long?” he asked. He took my bag from me and practically dragged me into the building. There was an armed guard at the entrance I didn’t recall being there on my last visit.
Even Melinda’s composure seemed ruffled, or perhaps I should say her hair was ruffled and her clothes were slightly rumpled. Dr. Seuss rhymes danced through my head—a late-blooming symptom from the head trauma? More likely my usual batty self. Maybe she was ruffled rumpled stumpled because she was working on Saturday. No, wait, today was still Friday. The real reason for Melinda’s dishevelment and Mike’s impatience
