CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The police came and took my report. I had little faith that much would come of it since nothing big had been stolen. All my files were accounted for. I’d had my backup hard drive at the motel—out of sight and out of reach.
I placed a call to Little D. “Someone broke into my office,” I said. “I think it was probably Beaufort or Diesel.”
After I’d explained what Sheila had said, Little D said, “Well, it’s too late to ask Beaufort and I don’t think you want to ask Diesel.”
“But I would like to talk to Fisher,” I said. “He sent his little errand boy, Narsh, with an invite to see him. You doing anything this afternoon? I want to go by Fisher’s shop and see what he wants.”
“I can meet you there at three,” Little D said.
“See you then.”
* * * * *
Little D was wa
