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Old Eagle Ears didn’t miss a thing even though she was eighty-three.
“They are.”
“Then how’d you recognize Mr. January?”
“How’d you get the calendars? I told the man to keep them.” I shot an accusatory look in her direction.
“And I told him to hand them over. No reason to let good money go to waste.”
I put a hand on my forehead. Muffy jumped up, his wet paws streaking down the front of my shirt.
“You know he likes to have his feet dried off immediately,” Miss Adeline said.
I burst out laughing as she tossed me a towel. “Where are the calendars?” I wiped off one paw as Muffy stood there obediently. “You are such a good boy.”
Lick.
Right in the face.
Miss Adeline opened a drawer and pulled out a calendar. She thumbed it open and held it up. “Is that him?”
“You’ve been keeping that in the reception desk?”
She looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “Hell, yes. One upstairs and one down here.” I tried to hold in my laugh, some weird-sounding snort escaping. “Next year buy a few more, so I don’t have to carry them around.”
“I’m not buying more calendars.”
“Maybe I’ll be here when that nice young boy comes around selling them again,” she muttered.
“You could just go to the fire station. I’m sure they’d be more than happy to sell you all the calendars you want.” I wiped off Muffy’s last paw, and he took off toward Miss Adeline.
He nosed his way between the other two dogs, and she gave him a treat.
“He just had one,” I said, though I wasn’t mad.
“Now he’s had another.”
“Woman . . .”
She pointed at the image of a shirtless fireman holding a hose. “Is this him?”
“I have to feed the dogs.”
“It won’t kill you to look at a picture.”
She shook it, and I sighed. “Fine. That’s not him.” I folded the damp towel. “And I don’t even know if he’s a fireman. They sell those FDNY shirts in Times Square.”
Miss Adeline leaned forward. “Did he look like a fireman?”
I threw my hands up. “I don’t know. What does a fireman look like?”
“This.” She tapped her finger on the man in the photo.
“He looked better,” I mumbled.
Her eyes lit, and I clinched. Instead of putting an end to this conversation, I’d just thrown fuel on it.
She flipped the page. “Him?”
