36
When I stumbled out of bed the next morning, I noticed a Caprice parked in front of the house. No sooner had I thrown on a T-shirt and sweatpants than three people emerged. Agents Lovelace and Bender marched toward my front porch. Trailing them was a grim-faced man with a bad combover and wearing a long, black woolen coat. They pounded on my door a moment later.
I walked into the living room. Reggie looked worried.
“Relax, I don’t think this is about you,” I said.
He nodded warily and made tracks to my guest bathroom before I opened the door and crossed my arms.
“First you refuse to help me track down wanted fugitives, then Tweedle Dee here starts tailing me. What gives?”
“Ms. Ballou, we need to speak with you,” said Lovelace.
“I’m kinda busy at the moment,” I replied. “So unless
