by Marja McGraw
“Things worked out for the best,” I said. “My husband and I have decided to retire and devote all of our time to the restaurant. This little caper has opened our eyes.”
Piper smiled. “Little caper? Don’t downplay it.”
“I’m not, and that’s why we’ve reached our decision.”
Chris uncrossed his arms and leaned forward. “No more gats, no more shivs and no more gumshoeing.”
“Good call.” James gave Chris a thumbs up. “Guns, knives and investigating are better left to the experts.”
Randy wasn’t smiling when he said, “And we won’t be calling on you again.”
His wife returned bearing a large paper sack. “I have something for all of you. I run a craft store and Randy asked for a special item. Trust me when I say I don’t want to know what this is all about.”
She emptied the sack on the table. There were seven framed certificates, one for Chris and me and for each of our friends and family.
“For Services Rendered by Chris Cross-
Your Country and New Friends
Thank You for a Job Well Done.
Stay Safe.”
Each one had a different name on it. There was nothing else to say. The certificates said it all. I took them to my office, excited about passing them out.
The rest of the evening was spent having a good time by sharing fine food and dancing with our new friends.
~ * ~
The next morning, Mikey asked a lot of questions while we ate breakfast.
“Ace,” Chris said, “when you’re older we’ll spill all the beans. Until then, we’re not taking any more cases.”
Mikey let that information soak in for a split second. “Booooring. Now I won’t have any good stories to tell Danny.”
Danny’s mother would probably appreciate the end of the stories.
“Boring, maybe, but ain’t life grand anyway?” I asked.
Mikey gave each of the dogs a bite of pancake before putting his dirty dishes on the sink and running out to the living room.
I washed the dishes and Chris dried them. Neither of us said a word, but it was a comfortable silence.
We were walking out of the kitchen when the phone rang.
True to form, Sherlock raced into the kitchen and slid across the tile and into the wall while Watson watched from the doorway.
“Hello?” I listened for a moment and handed the phone to Chris.
“Who is it?”
“Someone wants us to find a missing person.”
Chris took the receiver out of my hand. “I can recommend a good private eye to help you, but there’s nothing I can do.”
He listened to the caller for a moment.
“I know I have a reputation, but please understand. I’m retired and loving it.”
He hung up after giving the caller Sandi Webster’s name and phone number, and turned to me with a huge grin on his face.
“Yep, life is good.”
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