Chapter Twenty-FiveThose celestial bowling balls continued to topple pins with increasing vengeance. Rain had grown so intense, it was impossible to see more than five feet ahead.
I debated calling Gail for all of a blink. It was quarter of seven, too early to be on a date, too late to still be at the station, given her workday started at 7:30 a.m.
“Hold on a minute,” she said merrily and returned exactly sixty seconds later (yes, I was counting, but only because I was curious). “Berk and I are having beers at a little bar on Kilauea.”
“Ooh, so the 'hunky' Operations Officer asked you out, did he?” I teased.
The fifty-year-old giggled like a teenaged girl. She'd had her eye on him off and on for a couple of months, but had never believed the lawn-bowls lover would look her way, much le
