Page 84 of Don't Cross Mo Ellery

“Mmm,” I say. “This has a single pump of cinnamon syrup in it, doesn’t it? You are my hero.”

“So,” Hannah says. “Chat?”

Jean is now yanking as hard as possible on his leash to see if there’s food involved in our interaction. I let him sniff my cup and he practically rolls his eyes before going back to snuffling at Dad’s cooler.

“You selling poodles now, Mr. Ellery?” Hannah calls.

Dad snorts. “Not scalable, too much overhead,” he says. “You know me, I keep my operations lean and mean.”

“They’re mine,” I say. Hannah’s eyes widen. “I mean, they aren’t real dogs, just temporary dogs. The dogs of a dead man, technically.”

“I’m sorry I asked,” Hannah says.

But that reminds me of my plan to make these dogs temporary. “Did you bring Eva’s green screen?” I ask.

“Oh. Right,” she says quietly. “I forgot.”

“Then I have a great idea,” I say. “I have to run an errand after my shift anyway, why don’t you swing by home and get it, and text when you’re on your way back? Then I’m all yours. Promise.”

I hustle a few stragglers across the street, and my parents spend the last few minutes of my shift complimenting Hannah’s dress and asking about her new campaigns.

And look, I didn’tloveit when they were waving foam fingers, but it’s hard not to notice how completely they’ve stopped caring about my job. It’s so stupid, but I feel a little jealous, and Hannah is honestly being kind of rude, giving one-word answers and checking her phone for her rideshare. Then the car shows up, Mom and Dad pack their things, I wave goodbye to everyone, and this long national nightmare is over.

I run home with the dogs, throw on clean(ish) clothes, check my hair and pits, and grab Cran’s calendar. Time to earn that 11.5K and limit the body count in the neighborhood. And if I have to make out with Tasha to do that, well, that’s a price I’m willing to pay.

My heart skips a beat.Easy.

I switch shirts a second time, to a black tee that shows off my clavicle. Then I think about Tasha running her lips along my clavicle, andthatmakes me have to put on a little extra deodorant. I keep the dogs with me, because for whatever weird reason, they make me feel more confident, like I have my own entourage. They don’t smell fabulous, but they’re still better than no entourage at all.

It’s a sunny day, but it’s breezy and not too hot or humid. As we make our way down the sidewalk, I realize I’m actually feeling optimistic about all this. Part of it might be the caffeine. And sure, I’ve made a couple missteps, some of them involving false arrest and imprisonment of an innocent man blah blah blah, but we all make mistakes. And I’m getting closer to fixing all that and finding the truth.

When we arrive, I see Tasha through the big window, talking into the phone with a serious face, but she brightens when she sees meand waves me inside. I point at the dogs, and she nods enthusiastically, so the four of us amble in and wait for her to finish the call.

It’s still weird to me that the alderman’s office is this janky storefront with buzzy, unflattering fluorescent lights—just one long room outfitted with those makeshift cubicle walls. It’s even weirder now that I know it’s all built on a house of cards of bribes. A house of bribe cards? Tasha can help me workshop that. Maybe while I kiss the soft skin of her thigh.

Mo. You are here on business.

But like, theoretically, whycouldn’tI be here for pleasure too? Maybe mixing business and pleasure is actually agreatidea, like an Arnold Palmer or bacon on a donut. Or salty ice cream.

Now I’m hornyandhungry.

I meander toward the cubicles, trying to look casual and distinctlynotDTF, at least not immediately. I’m also checking to make sure Merle isn’t around. There’s a nameplate on the closed office door in back, announcingAlderman Carey,but I figure it’s good investigative protocol to check the cubicles too.

Rodney O’Malley would be proud.

I’ve barely gotten past Tasha’s desk when I get a text from Hannah asking if I’m home yet.

Crap. Spent too long on costume changes and haven’t even begun detectiving yet.

I text her the address of the office and tell her to come here, figuring that this way, she can meet Tasha, too, which obviously she will love.

I’ve barely put my phone back in my pocket when mop-dog Charlie comes limping through the cubicles at a precariously high speed, making a beeline for the poodles, who start jumping and spinning.

And because they are all basically chaos muppets, one of the dogship-checks meinto a flimsy cubicle wall, which topples over, and then acts like a huge domino and takes all the other walls down with floor-rattling thumps.

I cringe and freeze in place, as though no one is going to notice.

Spoiler: Everyone notices.