CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
The end of the case, celebratory festivities were intense and extended. Trixie was visibly annoyed at being shut out of Sara’s bedroom for so long. It was past one o’clock in the morning when Sara made me open the bedroom door, and she could join us. Trixie made three circles at the foot of the bed before lying down, looking at us. Sara had a bottle of Krug Grande Cuvee Brut in an ice bucket on her bedside table, and we drank some of it, sitting up in bed, with Trixie giving me a scornful stare.
“Whew!” Sara said. “What do you think? Was that love or lust?”
“For us, it’s a pointless distinction,” I said.
“Sometimes it feels like hard work,” Sara said.
“And sometimes it feels like no work at all,” I said.
Sara nodded and sipped her champagne, looking at me over the
