CHAPTER 17
“Welcome-to-HarBay-Estates,” Lary parrots to the newcomers.
This job would bore a corpse.
“Make yourselves at home. Would you like to take a tour? Fill in our questionnaire? Be sure and see our private two-car garage, one of the highlights of our townhomes. Help yourselves to coffee upstairs.”
Without a word or a nod to acknowledge her existence, the Discerning Upscale Couple glide up the staircase.
If I tug on the hem of that parsnip’s full-length fox, they would both trip and snap their snotty, tan-bed necks. Lary glares upwards, her blue eyes narrowed and glittering.
She hears Nutella’s voice falling all over their visitors in the second-floor kitchen. “Would you like a latte, an espresso, an imported biscuit?”
A threesome? A lap dance? Why doesn’t she just offer them
