Chapter 22“Look familiar?” I held up a colored drawing prepared by a reasonably talented hand.
Button eyed it, then me, then hightailed it to a padded paisley bed sleeper in the corner. Bearded chin on paws, she watched with disinterest. Apparently, the P.I. lifestyle held little doggie appeal.
At 10:45 the work day had finally begun with a check of the agency’s email Inbox. Besides a long, cheery one from my mom and nephew, and a sales one extoling the virtues of a vegan lifestyle dating community, there was a brief one from Morgen, the North Shore waitperson. He apologized for the delay—something about a mishap with a mongoose, a grass skirt, and a luau bonfire, and not necessarily in that order—and hoped the rendering of the “surfer dude” would serve its purpose. If doable, I should d
