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Harry paused to think about that. “He might need some on-the-ground assistance,” he said finally.
“Well, okay, Harry. Have him call me about Sunday.”
“He’s right here; I’ll put him on.”
“Hello?” a man’s deep voice said.
“Hello.”
“Holly Barker?”
“Yes.”
“This is Grant Early.”
“Sounds like a bourbon.”
“Usually people say scotch. I take it we’re on for dinner on Sunday?”
“All right.” Holly didn’t know why she was agreeing to this.
“Will you book us a table at some place you like a lot? I’ll pick you up at seven, if that’s all right.”
“All right.”
“Harry says he’ll give me directions to your place.”
“Okay.”
“How should I dress?”
“We’re pretty casual up here; a jacket but no tie should do.”
“See you then. Here’s Harry.”
“Holly, I appreciate this. Don’t blame Grant if he can’t tell you everything.”
“I’ll blame you.”
Harry laughed.
“Harry, have you been bugging my phones?”
“Huh?” His surprise sounded genuine.
“Somebody has; the FBI is good at that.”
“Who do you think it is?”
“My first guess was you.”
“Wrong. What’s your second guess?”
“I don’t have one.”
“You working on something exotic?”
“Nope.”
