“Just like old times, huh?” Petey May joked with a toothy smile. His voice sounded as if it had enjoyed a three-pack-a-day habit for decades. Neither handsome nor ugly, the fifty-plus-year-old had a kiwi-oval face that possessed mad-artist mien.
Seated at a rectangular table in his 1940s plantation house, we were about to chow down on a second round of pizza. Barney Fife, Petey"s deaf dog, was perched on a specially-constructed chair, still working on his first. A cross between Irish Setter and English Springer Spaniel, the good-spirited pooch"s long face and ears were white with age.
“We couldn"t have solved the Gruesome Twosome case without you,” Rey praised.
“Gruesome Twosome?” Laughter reminiscent of a cat choking on a hairball resounded.
“Technically, Reynalda, it was a threesome
