CHAPTER 56
They say to cheer up, things could get worse. So Lary cheers up. Sure enough, things get worse. T.P. Bladder has died in his sleep, peacefully they are telling her.
“As if anyone really knows,” Lary snaps in Becks’ direction perched on a chair facing Lary’s desk. She is in the midst of taping a Closed Until Further Notice sign to the front door.
Outside, snow clings to the windows. The little dog’s bed looks empty and forlorn. The door to T.P.’s inner office is ajar, his mess of files still in its usual disarray.
“What’s going to happen?” Becks examines the coffee jar of dog biscuits.
“Too soon to know,” Lary replies, her voice weary and sad. “I’m going to miss the little guy. We had the perfect partnership going.”
“Ready?” Becks holds up a bottle of mystery booze, an obsc
