Bernie picked up the tiny gun. “A Lady Beretta,” he said. “Nice. Where did you get it?”
“Your dog bit me,” the blond woman said.
“I wouldn’t say bite,” Bernie said. “It’s more of a clamping thing he does.” Exactly right: Bernie always understands. We’re a good team, me and Bernie. In case you’re looking at the blog for the first time, I’d better mention that we operate a detective agency, me and Bernie. Our specialty is missing person cases, like the Madison Chambliss Case that’s in Dog On It, but we also do divorce work if we have to, which we sometimes do on account of our finances, kind of a mess. Complicated reasons why; let’s just leave it at alimony and Hawaiian pants.
Was this a missing person case we were working on right now? Someone was missing all right, Kelo Printz, Hollywood producer, but wasn’t he also the client? Had this ever happened before?
“How about we go into the bathroom and dab a little something on that wrist?” Bernie said. The blond woman shook her head. “What’s the matter?” Bernie said. “I thought you wanted to search the house.”
My tail started wagging, no idea why. I got the feeling things were going good. Hard to explain why.
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