Page 85 of Don't Cross Mo Ellery

That includes (1) Tasha, who’s spun around in her chair and got her hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh into the phone, (2–5) the dogs, who are delighted and chase one another through the ruins like mighty, fuzzy conquerors, and (6–7) at the back of the room, two people leaning over some documents on a table. They’re frozen, heads up, gawking at me in surprise. I recognize one of them—it’s the little old lady from the funeral with the bratwurst in her purse... Leslie? Does she live in the neighborhood? Small world. The other one I don’t recognize. She’s younger, wearing a beige pantsuit, and she shoots me a severe look of disapproval before turning back to her paperwork.

“Sorry, don’t mind me,” I whisper and start pulling up the closest cubicle wall, but there’s nothing to attach it to, so I just kinda stand there holding it up, trying to look casual.

Once Tasha ends her call, she joins me in setting the walls back to their original positions. “Felt like remodeling the office, huh?”

“What can I say, I had a vision.”

“Is your face normally that red?”

“Sunburn,” I say. “Very recent.”

“Well, don’t sweat this.” She lowers her voice. “My dedicated colleagues back there aren’t currently saving Chicago or, even you know,working. They’re collecting evidence to dispute some fancy dog show’s decision that Charlie can’t compete.”

“I don’t know, that sounds like exactly what an alderman’s office should be doing.”

“Oh totally.” She laughs quietly. “We’re at the bleeding edge of government work.”

Bleeding edge indeed.

“What’s a dog show even like?” I whisper, trying to picture it as we lift another cubicle panel together. “Like a beauty contest? Do they all have talents? Because Charlie probably kills with his impression of a pile of rope.”

Tasha shakes her head. “I’ve never been. But I think if he had his druthers, Charlie would love to retire. The old guy’s got gas, hearing problems, arthritis—”

I laugh. Tasha doesn’t.

“Oh, sorry,” I say. “But you did just use the word ‘druthers.’ Should I be sympathetic? Do dogs actually get arthritis?”

“The fancier they are, the fancier their problems. And Charlie is a very fancy dog,” Tasha adds with a shrug, and then she glances at her phone. “In fact, it’s almost time for his shot, if you want a free lesson from Val. We’re on the bleeding edge of dog arthritis treatment too, lucky us.”

I shudder. “Thanks, but I don’t really do needles. Keep the outside on the outside and the inside on the inside, I always say.”

“That’s a reasonable policy. And policyismy specialty.”

She’s doing that irresistible government flirting again.Whyis it so hot? I step a little closer to her. “I’d say you have a couple of specialties.”

“Tasha?” calls a deep voice, and I jump.

“Jumpy much?” she teases. “That’s just Merle.”

“He’s here?” I’m instantly covered in goose bumps.

“Don’t leave yet, I’ll be right back,” she says as she walks away. “I’m going to see what he wants.”

It’s all I can do to not pull her back toward me, to keep her here, and safe. Because I have a pretty good idea of what he wants. And what he’s willing to do to get it.

While Tasha disappears into Merle’s office in back, I go over to her desk, where all four dogs are cuddled up like nothing bad has ever happened. I find a spray bottle sitting next to her bedraggled plant and give myself a spritz right in the face, since I’m all out of coffee.

I’m here to find proof that Merle’s a murderer. I didn’t plan on him being here while I did it. But that’s not going to stop me.

Flirting time is officially over.

Chapter 28

I don’t breathe normally again until Tasha reemerges from the alderman’s private office, all in one piece and holding a thick stack of official-looking documents. She gives me an apologetic smile as she plops them on the desk and sits. “I’m sorry, but I have to go through and notarize this whole pile. It’s going to take forever. But thanks for coming by?”

“Anytime,” I say, trying to sound breezy. “It was good to see you too. But also... I wonder if I could get your professional help? Before you start notarizing? Just for a second.”

“For you?” She smiles, for real this time, and her voice curls around me. “I’ve got at least seven seconds.”