I didn’t even think of that! Was Riley involved somehow? I couldn’t let my brain go there. Not yet. I needed to stay focused.
“Where does one grow mushies?”
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Heather Webber
“They grow everywhere naturally—fields, woods, yards.
It’s just a matter of being able to tell them apart from other mushrooms.”
Woods. Like the ones behind the Lockharts’ house? I’d seen mushrooms growing there the day BeBe got loose.
“Would you know one if you saw one?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Do I want to know how you’d know?”
“No.”
“Okay, then.” I stood up.
“Where are you going?”
“Where are
It took fifteen minutes to drive to the Lockhart house. An -
other five to show Jean-Claude the mushrooms growing in the woods and for him to tell me they were harmless.
I’d been so sure.
“What now?” he said.
“Plan B.” I walked out of the woods and couldn’t help but admire the job well done in the Grabinskys’ backyard. Even without the sod it was a hundred times better than what it was.
“What’s Plan B?” Jean-Claude asked.
“Growl,” I said.
“I don’t think this is in my job description.”
“Are you even still working for me?”
“Am I?”
“How about part-time? Afternoons? We’ll work from there.”
He smiled. “Sounds good. Um, how are we going to get into Growl? It doesn’t open till later, right?”
I knew just the person.
Thirty minutes later a grumbling Riley was in my truck.
“This is wrong,” he said. “It’s my day off. I wanted to sleep in.”
“Nine-thirty is sleeping in.”
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“In old people’s time.”
“You calling me old?”
“If the Metamucil fits.”
Jean-Claude laughed.
“You’re not much younger than I am,” I pointed out to him.
He stopped laughing.
“You can sleep in tomorrow,” I told Riley.
“Ginger always wakes me up for pancakes.”
“Life’s tough,” I said.
“Ginger?” Jean-Claude asked.
“Dude, don’t ask her.”
“Good advice.” I pulled into the empty Growl parking lot.
Riley hopped out, let us in. “What are you looking for?”
“We’ll just be a minute.”
The office door was closed but unlocked. I turned on the light, pointed to the closet door. “Go ahead,” I told Jean-Claude.
