Month: March 2020

It’s Linda posting today.  The Boss is helping us close the current case, HA-HA-HA-HA, while simultaneously working on an editing project and doing the 9-to-5.  (At least she got over that t.p. obsession, though now she does seem to be  fanatically focused on finding sanitizer products.)

Rey, JJ and I are sitting on the lanai again.  It’s nice and quiet, save for the neighbor who decided to start a self-reno project, given he’s got a lot of time on his hand.  The banging and clanging are a bit annoying, but nothing compared to the cussing when he hammers his finger.

The three of us at the Triple Threat Investigation Agency are still finding diversions—besides blogging and reviewing, I’m taking an on-line course on pet grooming, inspired by JJ’s gawd-awful “spruce up” of Button a few days ago.  The poor dear’s still wearing that woe-is-me look.  A dog with a mullet; who knew it was possible?  JJ’s reviewing crime stories for the agency website.  And Rey’s still reading Nancy Drew books, with great enthusiasm I might add.  She’s been enacting scenes for us.  Hey, it passes the time.

Considering there’s not much happening, I’ve no aversion to another diversion.  So here you go, dear friends, another excerpt from HA-HA-HA-HA.

Continue to stay safe and healthy!

“Nice flowers,” Rey commented, peering over my shoulder at the gold-flecked carton that had just arrived at the agency. 

It was a few minutes after noon and Linda had joined Mink for a casual lunch in the doggy-wear designer’s office.  I’d declined as I’d already picked up shrimp won-ton mein at a noodle house across the street and Rey had passed with a monotone “not hungry”.  Whether that was because she wasn’t a fan of Mink or the fact her BFF and Mink were becoming good pals remained to be seen.

She dropped onto the rattan sofa beside me with a thud.

“Hey, we can’t afford to replace broken furniture,” I chided.

“You going to open that?”  She poked the carton with a long apple-red fingernail.

“My, my, my.  Aren’t we curious?”

“We are.  Now, open it!”

Chuckling, I untied the satin ribbon.  Inside, wrapped in lightweight tissue were twelve long-stem crimson roses.

“Nice.”  Her tone was flat, her gaze narrowed.  “What about the card?”

I passed it.  “You do the honors.”

She unsealed the small gilt-edged envelope like a pro.  “Lovely flowers for lovely ladies.”  She turned it over and shrugged.  “Looks like you have—hold on, it says ‘ladies’.  But the delivery was to you.”

“Looks like we have a secret admirer.”

She frowned.  “They’re roses.”

“But they’re not black,” I said with a tight smile.

Her frown deepened.  “You think they might be from GRP?”

“It’s possible, but I’d expect him to enclose a taunting or sinister message.  And the flowers would be black, or close to.”  I shrugged.  “These could be from a former client or a mischievous friend.”

“Our few friends don’t have money to blow on high-end roses,” she stated, eyeing them circumspectly.  “Maybe a client.”

I stood.  “May as well put them in a vase.”

“We don’t have one.”

“Then I’ll run down to the little trading shop next door and buy one.  They’re too pretty to let wither.”

“Take ‘em home.”  She smiled faintly.  “The place could use some color.”

“They still need water until we leave.”

She shrugged and started to remove them from the box—and shrieked.  “Shit.  I forgot about thorns.”

But it wasn’t a thorn that was sticking from a bleeding finger when she held it up—but a mini razor blade for a snap-blade knife.

She looked at me crossly.  “You were sayin’ something about friends?”

Hey, it’s Rey today.  The Boss is out on t.p. patrol.  The woman has an obsession about it, I tell ya (so what if there’s hardly any to be had?)—get over it.

Cousin Jilly and Linda and I are sitting on the lanai.  We’ve been fortunate so far re the virus, but then we’re being diligent about staying in touch with the latest news.  Ensure you do, too.

So life doesn’t become too grim or overwhelming, we’re finding diversions—Linda’s blogging and JJ’s grooming the pets in the shade.  I’m reading some of the Boss’ Nancy Drew books to pass time.

In case you’re looking for a bit of a distraction, I thought I’d share an excerpt, or teaser, from our upcoming case HA-HA-HA-HA (whadya think—all caps or no?).

Stay safe and healthy everyone—we will get through this.

Take it away, JJ!

“So much for an early night,” Linda grumbled, waving farewell to Ald and Sallo, who’d arrived fifteen minutes after we’d called Ald. 

Both men had been wearing 50s-style polyester black-and-red bowling shirts.  Funny, who’d have guessed either HPD homicide detective was a bowler?  As Rey would say, ya truly do learn something new every day.

Pets on our heels, it was fifteen minutes after midnight when we finally locked up and trooped upstairs. 

“So GRP’s getting close and personal.”  I parked my butt on the edge of Rey’s queen-size upholstered storage bed.  

Leaning into the far wall, Linda frowned and appeared pensive.  “I wonder whose blood he used.” 

“I suspect we’ll learn soon enough,” I said wearily. 

“Do you think they’ll find anything incriminating?”

“That dude won’t have left any evidence or DNA,” Rey responded, removing a folded oversized T-shirt from one of two marquetry-motif nightstands.  She started undressing.  “Guess we can open an official case file, starting with the photos we took earlier.”

“And the details Ald said he’d provide tomorrow,” Linda added.

“Limited details,” I emphasized.  “He’s not going to share all.”

“It should be enough to begin some serious private-eyeing.”

“Think we should get a security system, like Hives suggested?” my cousin asked, tossing a crimson lace bra across the room.  It landed at the base of a variegated solid-marble and brushed-brass floor mirror (an “awesome mega-discounted sale piece”).

“Given our line of work, yes.”  I flopped back and stared at a ceiling in dire need of paint.  Bonzo landed beside me, his face—with whiskers wildly twitching—inches from mine.  “Let’s do it first thing.”

Linda glanced at her ice-pink Coach watch.  “I’m bed-bound.  Nighty-night ladies.”

“Who can sleep?” Rey asked dryly, slipping the T-shirt advertising a local rib joint over her head.

“Count sheep.”

“More like count cadavers,” she said with a cynical smile.

Standing, I waved goodnight and tread to my room where I found Button already on the bed.  With a pat to her head, I slipped into a V-back chemise and pulled aside the covers.  A twinge—gut instinct—impelled me to check the agency website.  The laptop, conveniently perched on a recently purchased diamond-patterned nightstand (Rey’s “sales bug” was contagious), found its way onto my lap. 

Sure enough, a message from GRP had arrived in the Inbox.

Need help with house renos?  Climbing ladders is no big deal and I’m pretty good with tools.  You’ve seen my etching work.  Let me know and I’ll pop by.  Your new playmate.  GrimReaperPeeper.  Or, as you’ve so fondly dubbed me, GRP.

I drew a deep breath and gazed around the dim bedroom.  Obviously GRP was watching.  And it appeared he was listening, too.