34Ben was making omelets and a green salad for him and Molly to have for dinner. He uncorked a rather nice red wine, feeling a little guilty since Molly was abstaining from alcohol during her recovery (except for that one slip with a kir). Bobo trotted back and forth from bedroom to kitchen, disturbed that her two humans weren’t in the same room.
A quick rap on the French door, and Maron let himself in.
“Mon Dieu,” he muttered. “I just finished with Ira Bilson. He had quite a bit more to say than I had expected.”
“Let me see if Molly can join us,” said Ben, quickly sliding the second omelet onto a plate and hurrying into the bedroom. He returned with a disheveled but conscious Molly.
“I was just dreaming about the case,” she said, her cheeks flushed. “It’s maybe the third dream I’ve ha
