An Old Familiar Smell
Portia Peters, the blond woman, ex-wife of Kelo Printz, our client, now missing – wow! I remembered all that! – drove away from our place on Mesquite Road. Bernie and I got outside in time to see her car – red, but don’t take my word for that – headed down the hill. We hopped into the Porsche – have I mentioned the Porsche? It’s a real old one, with lots of problems. Sometimes Bernie has to pop the hood and get out the tools. Look out when that happens.
Where was I? The Porsche. We hopped in. And as we did, I picked up a smell I hadn’t picked up in a long time, I raised my nose, took a few deep sniffs just to be sure. Yes, no doubt about it: the scent of Iggy! Iggy had been out? That hadn’t happened in a long long time. Out, and in our yard. I looked around, didn’t see him. I checked his window, didn’t see him there either. I barked. No answering yip-yip-yip, and Iggy didn’t appear again. I barked some more, nice and loud.
“It’s okay, Chet,” Bernie said. “We’re not going to lose her.”
Huh? What was he talking about?
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