disturb Jeffrey, grabbed a notepad and pen, then jotted down some possible names and slogans.
Day Detectives
We work day and night for you.
Day & Day
Investigating around the clock, no job too big or small.
Two Days Detective Agency
Father and daughter team, with youth plus experience.
I had a tough time being serious and coming up with a pun-free combination. Would people hiring a detective duo appreciate a bit of humor? I had no idea. I didn't know that much about the business, other than the fact it wasn't all glamor. My father had befriended a few private investigators over the years, and most of their stories were about tailing cheating spouses and finding increasingly inventive ways to relieve one's bladder while on stakeout.
I started to get panicky, thinking about hiding somewhere in wait for someone while needing to use the washroom. Maybe it was because I'd finished a huge mug of tea and I'd ignored my bladder's early requests because I didn't want to disturb the cat on my lap.
"No big mugs of tea on stakeouts," I said. "That'll be my first rule. And the second rule is that my father has to treat me like a partner, and not just his lackey. I bring a lot to the table. I've got… um… deductive skills."
Jeffrey gave me a sleepy look as I gently transferred him to a pillow that was warm from being behind my back. I went down the hall to use the washroom and got ready for bed. Was I sleepy yet? Not really. My face looked oily where it wasn't flaking from winter dryness—the joy of combination skin—so I gave myself a mask treatment and read a magazine.
I'd rinsed off the mask and was climbing into my bed when I realized I'd left the living room lights on and the curtains wide open. Ordinarily, I wouldn't have cared, but I'd stumbled upon a murder scene today, and the killer was still at large. I wasn't going to live my life in fear, but I could do a few sensible things.
With the warm, fuzzy bathrobe over my nightie, I walked out to the living room. Jeffrey struck an irresistible pose, front paws stretched out, begging to have his armpits tickled. Naturally, I gave in to temptation.
I was leaning over, teasing Jeffrey in his sleepy state, when I heard a man's voice outside, barking orders. By now it was nearly two, well past the time people took their dogs out for walks.
I couldn't make out the man's words, but his tone was angry. The hairs on my forearms stood up, and I self-consciously tightened my robe. With the bright lamp on, and the curtains for the picture window wide open, I might as well have been standing in a stage spotlight.
A second man answered the first, and they argued. I felt relief that it wasn't one man trying to get my attention, but then I grew worried. The voices sounded close by, like the two were fighting in my front yard.
I glanced over to make note of where my cell phone was—on the table by the door—and then clicked off the lamp so I could see out the front window.
Chapter 11
I squinted as my eyes adjusted to the light spilling into my snowy front yard from the nearby street lamp.
Two shapes, men of about the same size, were grappling, each with one foot on my shoveled pathway and one foot in the deeper snow.
I would have crossed the room for my phone, to call the police, but the car parked directly in front of my house was a police car. One of the dark-haired men wrestling on my front lawn was Captain Tony Milano.
Just as I was identifying Tony, he got the upper hand on his assailant, swiftly pushing him down, face-first into the snow. I let out a small cry of elation as Tony began handcuffing the other guy.
Through the double-paned glass of the window, I could hear Tony's voice fall into a familiar rhythm—he was making an arrest and informing the man of his rights.
I tapped on the window to let Tony know I was there, in case he needed anything. He whipped his head around, distracted, and loosened his hold.
The other man, craning his neck from his facedown
Day Detectives
We work day and night for you.
Day & Day
Investigating around the clock, no job too big or small.
Two Days Detective Agency
Father and daughter team, with youth plus experience.
I had a tough time being serious and coming up with a pun-free combination. Would people hiring a detective duo appreciate a bit of humor? I had no idea. I didn't know that much about the business, other than the fact it wasn't all glamor. My father had befriended a few private investigators over the years, and most of their stories were about tailing cheating spouses and finding increasingly inventive ways to relieve one's bladder while on stakeout.
I started to get panicky, thinking about hiding somewhere in wait for someone while needing to use the washroom. Maybe it was because I'd finished a huge mug of tea and I'd ignored my bladder's early requests because I didn't want to disturb the cat on my lap.
"No big mugs of tea on stakeouts," I said. "That'll be my first rule. And the second rule is that my father has to treat me like a partner, and not just his lackey. I bring a lot to the table. I've got… um… deductive skills."
Jeffrey gave me a sleepy look as I gently transferred him to a pillow that was warm from being behind my back. I went down the hall to use the washroom and got ready for bed. Was I sleepy yet? Not really. My face looked oily where it wasn't flaking from winter dryness—the joy of combination skin—so I gave myself a mask treatment and read a magazine.
I'd rinsed off the mask and was climbing into my bed when I realized I'd left the living room lights on and the curtains wide open. Ordinarily, I wouldn't have cared, but I'd stumbled upon a murder scene today, and the killer was still at large. I wasn't going to live my life in fear, but I could do a few sensible things.
With the warm, fuzzy bathrobe over my nightie, I walked out to the living room. Jeffrey struck an irresistible pose, front paws stretched out, begging to have his armpits tickled. Naturally, I gave in to temptation.
I was leaning over, teasing Jeffrey in his sleepy state, when I heard a man's voice outside, barking orders. By now it was nearly two, well past the time people took their dogs out for walks.
I couldn't make out the man's words, but his tone was angry. The hairs on my forearms stood up, and I self-consciously tightened my robe. With the bright lamp on, and the curtains for the picture window wide open, I might as well have been standing in a stage spotlight.
A second man answered the first, and they argued. I felt relief that it wasn't one man trying to get my attention, but then I grew worried. The voices sounded close by, like the two were fighting in my front yard.
I glanced over to make note of where my cell phone was—on the table by the door—and then clicked off the lamp so I could see out the front window.
Chapter 11
I squinted as my eyes adjusted to the light spilling into my snowy front yard from the nearby street lamp.
Two shapes, men of about the same size, were grappling, each with one foot on my shoveled pathway and one foot in the deeper snow.
I would have crossed the room for my phone, to call the police, but the car parked directly in front of my house was a police car. One of the dark-haired men wrestling on my front lawn was Captain Tony Milano.
Just as I was identifying Tony, he got the upper hand on his assailant, swiftly pushing him down, face-first into the snow. I let out a small cry of elation as Tony began handcuffing the other guy.
Through the double-paned glass of the window, I could hear Tony's voice fall into a familiar rhythm—he was making an arrest and informing the man of his rights.
I tapped on the window to let Tony know I was there, in case he needed anything. He whipped his head around, distracted, and loosened his hold.
The other man, craning his neck from his facedown
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