CHAPTER 33
The next morning, Lary trots off to her new job with a duffle bag full of window cleaner, bleach, disinfectant, lemon scented furniture polish, paper towels, a hand vacuum, a mop, and cloths, wet and dry. It is indeed a first. Hey, she isn’t bored so far. And she doesn’t have time to dwell on a certain tall Mexican’s sudden return to Mexico.
T.P. Bladder Investigations is located on the third floor of an ancient, three-story brick building on King St. East, an I’ll-work-for-beer neighborhood littered with funky diners, dingy pubs, and sleeping bums in little parks.
The sky is threatening rain. The air is claustrophobic. Hedges and maple trees are bursting with fresh green leaves, soon to be coated in soot.
With difficulty, Lary pulls open the heavy frosted glass exterior doo
