Ray looked up. When humans are confused they get this expression on their faces, and Ray had it now. Here in the nation within the nation, as Bernie calls it, we’re not quite so easy to read when it comes to confusion. Only my opinion. But our faces, yours and mine, are different. You’ve noticed that, right? Noticing is important in our work – we’re partners in the Little Detective Agency, me and Bernie. Bernie says you can look us up in certain books. Their pictures are down below.
But forget all that. Right now we were on the job – a paying job, and the client was Colonel Bob, father of Ray, the young guy sitting so confused by the pool. What were those things around him? Red-splotched towels? A reddish color, I was pretty sure, although I can’t be trusted when it comes to colors, Bernie says. But the smell: he trusts me on that. And the smell of blood: well, that’s an easy one.
“Ray?” Bernie said. “You’re not dropping the gun.”
Ray glanced down at the gun in his hand, like he was surprised to see it there.
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