Dutch Uncle

Начало книги

Vicki was in the Jacuzzi with Mimi, in the water up to her neck, holding the Chihuahua’s head just above the churning surface.

The lawn chair where a towel or a bathrobe should’ve been hanging was empty.

Leo said, “Are you naked under there?”

“Get in and find out for yourself,” Vicki said.

Mimi had been appealing to Leo with her eyes. Just her luck her mistress would be the one person in the world who thought this was a cute idea, a Chihuahua in the hot tub.

The sliding glass door was locked. Leo tapped the Jag’s ignition key against the pane, a clinking that brought Beaumond’s eyes, yellow and dilated, out from behind the curtain. The dining room table was cluttered with boxes of baking soda, a roll of sandwich-sized baggies, and a jar of unlabeled powder.

Beaumond and Fernandez had gotten hold of two triplebeam scales, strategically angled near their places at the table. Dumped on the Business section of the Sunday Herald, the kilo sparkled under the glow from a hanging lamp.

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