Claw Enforcement by Sofie Ryan

Author:Sofie Ryan [Ryan, Sofie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2020-01-28T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Mr. P. turned to the internet to look for information about the break-in. Rose and Charlotte turned to their version of the information superhighway—town scuttlebutt, specifically all the gossip around town that their various friends and contacts were privy to. Since this wasn’t a task I had the skills for, I went out to the garage to do some work on my mantel.

Mac had gotten the glass for what I had started calling the ice cream table and was working on attaching it to the top of the metal frame when Rose came across the parking lot. She stopped by the door and looked over the two pink garden benches. “Well. They would certainly get your attention,” she said. She smiled at Mac. “I just came to let you know that you’re having lunch on Monday.”

He looked at her a little uncertainly. “I have lunch every day,” he said.

“I know that,” Rose said with just a touch of irritation in her voice. “I mean you’re having lunch at Sam’s.”

“I am?” Mac still looked clueless.

Rose looked at me and gave her head the slightest of shakes.

I pushed my dust mask off of my face. “What time does Cassie Gibson’s shift start?” I asked. I had a lot more experience than Mac did with the conversation veering off on a tangent.

“Eleven thirty,” she said.

“Are you sure I should be doing this?” he asked, twisting the screwdriver he was holding between his fingers.

“Of course,” Rose said. “All you have to do is talk to her. I’ve never seen you have any trouble talking to women here in the shop.”

Rose was right. Mac was personable and friendly without being smarmy.

“You can do this,” I said.

He blew out a breath. “Okay, I’ll take a shot at it.”

“Splendid!” Rose said. “If you need any tips, just talk to Alfred.” She gave us a sly smile. “He’s got game.” She turned and made her way back to the shop.

Mac was struggling not to laugh. “He’s got game?” he said once Rose was out of earshot.

I sat back on my heels. “One Saturday morning I came back from a run to see Mr. P. getting the newspaper wearing Rose’s bathrobe and slippers and when he opened the door to her apartment I could hear her singing ‘Sweet Emotion.’”

Mac shook his head. “That did not happen. “You’re making it up.”

“It happened and I’m scarred for life,” I said. I wasn’t sure which had been more traumatizing: seeing Mr. P. in a pink ruffled bathrobe and quite possibly nothing else or hearing Rose sing “Cause the backstage boogie sets your pants on fire.”

Mac couldn’t stop laughing. I pointed a finger at him. “Alfred Peterson’s got the computer skills of a teenager hacker, he quotes Shakespeare like an English professor, and he’s a pretty good dancer. I promise you, he’s got game.”

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