Chapter 127

“Car fifty-four, where are you?”

“Running some errands, babe. Is dinner ready?”

“Thirty minutes ago.”

“I have one more stop to make. See you shortly.”

“What are you doing?”

“Don’t ask, and I won’t tell.”

“Okay, bye.”

When I got home, I slipped quietly to a point just out of visual range of the kitchen door, raised my voice a bit, and said, “Hold out your hands and close your eyes. I’d suggest you sit down in a chair as well.”

“Okay,” he said from the kitchen.

I walked to the kitchen table where he was sitting and placed a small bundle in his hands. He opened his eyes.

“Holy shit. What’s this?”

“This,” I said, “is an eight-week-old purebred Irish Setter with blood lines that I’m told have at least one national champion in them. Why don’t you get acquainted with him while I bring in his gear?”

It took three trips to the truck to retrieve a doggie bed, a collapsible crate, food and water bowls, a bag of puppy food, and a few toys.