By the time I looked up from painting, it was four-thirty.
Riley had to be at work at five.
I cleaned up, made sure everything was ready for the morning, and said good-bye to Brickhouse, the only one left in the office.
I hated to say it, but she was an excellent temp. She’d even managed to get Jean-Claude in on time that morning. How, I had no idea.
Riley was pacing the front porch when I pulled in. He jumped in the car before I even came to a complete stop.
“Sorry I’m late,” I said.
“You’re not.”
“Not what?”
“Late.”
I must have looked confused because he said, “I told you I had to be at work at five, but it’s actually five-thirty. That way I’d get to work on time. For a change.”
“That’s sneaky.”
“It worked.”
I didn’t want to know how long he’d been playing that game with me.
I pulled into Growl’s parking lot and was surprised to see the Beast, aka Mr. Cabrera’s 1970 Pontiac LeMans, parked there until I remembered Mr. Cabrera and Boom-Boom had made plans to stop by.
Riley jumped out of the truck before it came to a stop, and I turned off the engine and double-checked to make sure I had Bill’s letters. It was time to put them back.
Tempting aromas of garlic and thyme welcomed me in.
And I was tempted. But not crazy, so I didn’t buy anything.
Mr. Cabrera and Boom-Boom, however, were in line, ordering from none other than Goosh himself.
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Heather Webber
Boom-Boom was saying, “I’ll have the turkey burger with lots of mushies. I just love mushies. Don’t you?” she asked Mr. Cabrera.
“No,” he said. “I hate mushrooms.”
He wore a light green shirt covered in mallard ducks and denim cargo shorts. His tone told me that Boom-Boom was wearing on his patience.
I said hello while I scoped out the place. So far, no sign of Bill.
Mr. Cabrera turned to me. “You gonna eat, Miz Quinn?”
I wondered what Mrs. Krauss thought of him saying things like “gonna.” How those two got along, I’d never know.
“No, not my style.”
He smiled. “No chocolate.”
He knew me well.
“I’m just dropping off Riley. Thought I’d, uh, use the ladies’ room.”
I could feel the sharp corner from an envelope scratching my spine. I’d shoved the letters in my waistband.
Mr. Cabrera gave me an odd look.
Okay, it might have been Too Much Information.
“Donnie, dear. Pay the boy,” Boom-Boom trilled (I swear she did), while tugging on Mr. Cabrera’s sleeve.
“Donnie?” I asked.
“Don’t say nothin’,” he grumped.
I smiled.
“And stop smilin’! Don’t you have a bathroom to go to?”
“All right, all right. Testy.”
I inched away, making sure the coast was clear, and saw Riley coming down the hall, his name tag on. He must’ve just punched in.
He caught sight of me lurking. “No,” he said.
“What? I just need to use the restroom.”
“There’s peo—”
