CHAPTER 9: LET THEM EAT CAKELATER, WHEN ONE LAW-ENFORCEMENT OFFICER after another asked her what she’d done during those two hours, Lydia would thank the Flying Wedge’s foresight in making a list.
Right now, she was simply glad to tick off tasks without having to think about them.
Breaking Darla’s other leg was a task best postponed until she didn’t feel so ticked off. Which might be soon: the new Cape Verdean assistants were a big improvement, actually. More experience, less attitude.
Lydia headed for the headstones-and-ice-cream shop. The sun sank behind the trees. The Zappa guests drove home, with only a few brief siren-bursts.
She came back to find every piece of trash picked up, every wine-stained table skirt replaced, every tabletop scrubbed and re-covered, and Mudge in the kitc
