It's a Wonderful Woof by Spencer Quinn

Author:Spencer Quinn [Quinn, Spencer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

* * *

“So much for the sacred,” Bernie said, as we drove up to Livia’s Friendly Coffee and More. “All set for the profane?”

That one blew right by me, but it didn’t matter. I was all set for anything. That comes with the job, and it also comes with me, if you see what I’m getting at. If not, no problem. I’m not sure what I meant myself. We walked under the huge coffee cup that hung over Livia’s door and entered the shop.

A nice, quiet coffee shop with coffee smells and blueberry muffin smells—Livia’s blueberry muffins being the best in town if you’re interested in blueberry muffins, which I can be in a pinch. We went to the counter. A kid with a number of rings in his nose, lips, and eyebrows said, “What’ll it be?”

Here’s a very strange thing. My teeth were struck by a sudden urge to bite him, not because he was a bad kid or a threat in any way, but just to kind of get in on the act. I kept my mouth closed tight, letting my teeth know who was boss.

“Is Autumn in?” Bernie said.

The kid shook his head. “Um, Autumn? She doesn’t … uh, isn’t in.”

“Then we’d like to see Livia,” Bernie said.

“Livia the owner?”

“Is there another Livia here?”

“I don’t think she’s in either.”

“Make sure,” Bernie said.

The kid’s eyebrows rose, not very high, weighed down with all that metal. Bernie handed him our card. He took it and disappeared through a doorway behind the counter. Moments later he was back, and in a much brisker mood.

“Sorry to make you wait, sir. Please step around the counter and follow me. Would you like anything for … for while you walk? Muffin, latte, chai?”

“I think we’ll be able to make it without,” Bernie said. We followed the kid through the doorway behind the counter, into a storage space with sacks of coffee beans, and then through another door and into a nice sort of living room with a soft rug, some puffy-looking sofas and chairs, and a small bar, a room I remembered from a visit some time ago, mostly due to the heavy perfume smell. A woman, somewhat older than Bernie and wearing a dark pantsuit and a string of pearls, sat at a desk in front of a laptop. This was Livia Moon. She saw us and jumped up—or maybe not jumped on account of her being a big woman, big and curvy—and hurried to us.

“Bernie, Bernie, Bernie! My favorite Bernie in the whole wide world!” She gripped Bernie’s upper arms, gave them a squeeze, and kept on squeezing. At the same time she glanced at the kid, who was watching with wide-open eyes.

“That will be all, Sean.”

“Um, sure, but it’s Simon, ma’am.”

“Suit yourself,” Livia said. “And where’s your Santa hat?”

“I … I forgot to put it on,” said Simon.

“In this shop we wear our Santa hats every day from Thanksgiving to New Year’s Day. Are you a grinch, Sean, Simon, whatever?”

“No, ma’am.

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