CHAPTER TWOOne year later…
“Lindsey?”
It only took one word to make the old synapses kick back in. If he’d been a retired soldier he’d have wanted to jump out of bed and stand at attention. If he’d been a retired fire horse he’d have snorted once, shaken himself, and been ready to pull the wagon to the conflagration.
Hobart Lindsey grunted, “Yes, Mr. Richelieu.”
He pressed the phone to his ear, swung himself around and planted his feet in his fleece slippers. How long had he been retired, himself? He’d had enough of International Surety to qualify for his pension. He wasn’t eligible for Social Security yet and the monthly checks from I.S. weren’t exactly lavish, but he’d been able to keep the little house in Walnut Creek after his mother remarried and moved to a gated retirement commun
