it was like a graceful sweep behind the knees. Quiet but deadly. “I’m looking forward to hearing more on your lightbulb moments in the future. For now, that’s it, gentlemen. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”
She rolled to her feet in one graceful motion, turned her back, and began gathering her things.
Stone gritted his teeth and stood, refusing to show he felt stiff and achy. The bastards next to him seemed fine. Maybe they had kids they sat on the floor with regularly. He needed to get a nephew or a niece or something.
He watched her hurry out the door, enjoying the swing of her tight rear. Her license said five eight, but he pegged her as being a bit taller. Those legs could wrap tight around a man’s hips and squeeze so hard he’d probably pass out in pleasure. Of course, once her mouth opened he’d be resuscitated and dragged into hell.
Too bad.
Maybe he’d shoot some pool with Devine tonight. If he was gonna be suspended, he sure as hell wasn’t staying at home, bored out of his mind. Since he couldn’t have a smoke, he’d stop at Dunkin’ on the way and get his favorite chocolate Munchkins. He’d bring some for the guys at the station and see if he could sniff out a good crime someone needed help on. Like who purposefully mixed the recyclables up with the trash.
Stone headed out.
“POPPY, WHAT ARE YOU doing here?”
The bungalow was filled with the scents of onion, grease, and comfort. She laughed at the doggy attack of squirming fur and crazy tongues, then dropped to the floor in surrender while she hugged her fur babies. The stress of the day eased from her shoulders. Dorothy was so right. There was nothing quite like home.
Her grandfather walked over, spatula in hand, and shook his head. “You got your hands full with these monkeys, honey,” he said. “Decided to walk them and surprise you with dinner. Unfortunately, I think Mike got hungry early and raided the kitchen. The garbage was torn up and scattered everywhere.”
Arilyn groaned. “I thought I locked it up! I was running late and forgot. I need to get one of those big cans with the lid. Hey, how’d you know it was Mike?”
“Because Lenny was already chewing on your sneaker.”
Great. She always shut the closet, but Lenny had become smart enough to use his paw to drag it open to find the treasure. Damn, she’d loved those new Skechers. She wagged her finger at both puppies. “You two are in big trouble. No Frosty Paws ice cream tonight.”
Lenny scampered up her legs and licked her ear in a sloppy apology. She giggled and scooped him back to the floor. “Sorry you had to clean up, Poppy.” She rose to her feet and gave him a hug. The familiar scents of Irish Spring soap and Old Spice surrounded her. After her parents passed, Poppy had become her rock. The only stability left in her life, he gave her structure, shelter, and love. He made her laugh with his wild streak, penchant for fun and gambling, and advice to live large or go home trying. So like her mother, until cancer had eaten everything decent and good within and spat it back out.
He was dressed in his usual uniform of brown pants, white shirt, and sturdy leather shoes polished to perfection. The black tattoos of the memories of his fallen comrades in Vietnam climbed down each arm. A cross and a name. Eight of them. She used to sit in his lap and study the tats for hours, fascinated by the detail and boldness. Though painful for him, he used to tell the story of the war to keep the memory alive. So no military member or person fighting for his or her country would ever be forgotten again.
He lived in a cozy brick house filled with interesting antiques, old movie posters, and an attic bursting with trunks full of old clothes and photos. She’d get lost up there for hours when she needed a connection with her parents, poring over her family heritage ripped away from her too soon. Poppy was tough and smart. He aged with a grizzly endurance that taught her to appreciate life in all forms and stages, good and bad, old and new, giving her hope that each morning would bring a surprise. He’d owned a small auto repair station for years, content to spend his days under the hood, where the memories of war and