Chapter 36

“And a weapon.”

“I won’t have a gun in here,” I declared.

“No. Something…a golf club,” Goose suggested.

The baseball bat was gone. I’d asked for an autographed team photo to take its place.

“A bottle of Windex or some other cleaner,” Goose recommended. “Axe body spray, Jean Nate.” He picked up a bottle right up front. “To spray in T—in someone’s face, in the unlikely event—”

“Unlikely. Yes. That’s our code word.” The Windex wasn’t a bad idea, either. Any possible defense was better than none at all. “I’ll keep something close.”

With all the mirrors we eventually hung, I’d need Windex, anyway. I went behind the counter to check out the closest one, to see the images the others reflected toward it. “This actually works.”

“You doubted me?” Goose asked.

“Never.” When I leaned over to kiss him, he threw himself partway across the flatness by the register for a second one, knocking over a Purel display.

“Oopsie. Clean-up on aisle one.”