“Happy now?” Calvin asked Neil.
Neil glowered and put the strap around his neck again.
“Did it have a message included like mine?” I asked.
Calvin put one strong hand on my shoulder, turned me toward the awaiting cruiser, and essentially severed any and all ties I had to the investigation. “I’ll give you a call later this evening.”
Chapter Two
“KIDDO!”
“Hey, Pop,” I said. I reached the landing of the hallway stairs and saw my dad—William Snow—standing in the open doorway of his apartment. “How’re you?” I gave him a brief hug.
“Fine, fine. Come in.” Pop ushered me inside, took another peek into the hall, and shut the door. “No Calvin?”
“No,” I agreed, bending down to unclasp Dillon’s leash so he could go play with Maggie before the giant pit bull came to greet me with her usual tackle and slobber. “Working.”
“Then New York’s in good hands,” Pop said with a chuckle.
I straightened, took off my coat and scarf, and hung them up. I removed my glasses case from my messenger bag, swapped out sunglasses for regular ones, then set the bag against the wall.
“Good grief, Sebastian,” Pop murmured, tugging on the sleeve of my button-down shirt.
“It’s not that wrinkled.”
“I know you know what an iron is.”
“Who has time to iron?”
“Apparently not you.” Pop made a sudden face. “Did you brush your teeth this morning?”
I put a hand over my mouth at the reminder of vomit breath and started across the room. “I’ll be right back.” I went down the dim hallway and turned into the bathroom. No spare toothbrush, but my finger and copious amounts of toothpaste worked just as well. I swished some mouthwash afterward for good measure, then used my hand to wipe excess water from my unshaven face. I dried my mouth and chin on the sleeve of my shirt.
Huh. Itwaspretty wrinkled.
I shrugged and left the room.
“Minty fresh,” I declared, joining Pop again.
“Thank goodness,” Pop said as he busily filled the coffee maker with water. “I really thought at thirty-three, I wouldn’t have to remind you of the necessity of basic grooming.”
“I’m thirty-four.”
“That’s right,” Pop said, shaking his head a little, whether at his mistake or my age, I wasn’t sure.
“Anyway. I did brush my teeth this morning.” I walked to the kitchen area on the left of the spacious apartment layout, opened a cupboard, and removed two mugs. “But something happened and I blew chunks.”
Pop set the pot down with a minor clatter and looked at me. “Are you sick?” He did the parent hand-on-forehead maneuver.
“I’m fine.”
He was still frowning. Then recognition lit Pop’s features, and he sighed while shaking his head. “Oh, Sebastian….”
“I didn’t do anything.”
Pop put a hand on his hip, the other tapping the kitchen counter.
“Honest.”
