The pup had peed on a Palm Springs golf course, ordered off the menu at Lazy Dog Café and sailed to Catalina Island dressed in a fuchsia bikini. Spoiled in style.

Natalie decided she’d be a brunette today. Part of the fun of being a private eye? Dress up. She kept wigs in her bedroom: short brown hair, long red hair, black curls. There were times an investigator depended on a quick disguise, necessary to dig up details, save her life.

The good looking ones always gave you more trouble than they’re worth.

She stared at the center of the target, a face she’d never seen before, but recognized. The image she’d pieced together in her mind of the bastard that murdered her darling Grandpa Anders. She aimed the gun, hands steady, pulled the trigger. Kaboom. Blew his face apart.

The money felt scratchy, hard against his skin. He wished he had a nice, sensitive woman to share the party with. No one. Tears wet his eyes. He didn’t try to stop them.

He didn’t need dinner slop to feed his body. He couldn’t recall ever being so filled up.

Who’d guess I fight crime?” “Don’t exaggerate. You catch people doing the nasty with people they have no business getting nasty with.