Page 211 of Tenderfoot

“I got them,” the woman said.

Shirleen shouldered her out of the way. “No, I got ’em.”

The older woman planted her hands on her hips and stated snootily, “Witness relations in this branch are under my job description.”

Shirleen pointed at me. “Is she organizing your closet this weekend?”

“No,” the woman hmphed.

“So these are my girls,” Shirleen returned. “That means I got them.” She started herding us. “Come with me, ladies.”

With the forebodingly silent Javi and Gabe exuding very bad vibes following us, we were taken into what had to be the inner sanctuary.

This was behind a keypad locked door that was nearly invisible in the posh wood paneling. Once in the back hallway that had more posh wood paneling and a ton of doorways off it, many with their own keypads, we were escorted to a swish conference room. This room had lots of gleaming wood (walls and furniture), attractive wall art done up in Arizona desert style, and fancy, comfortable-looking swivel chairs sporting super attractive cognac leather.

“This is rad,” Willow whispered. “But I still like our Headquarters better.”

“Samesies,” I replied.

Shirleen set us both in chairs and asked, “You want coffee?”

“Or tea?” the other woman butted in, and it didn’t take a genius to deduce this woman was Marjorie.

I also knew from what Javi told me that the guys lived with this battle in some way or another every day in the office.

I sensed they gave it a wide berth because it was getting on their nerves.

But I thought it was kind of cute.

“Water?” Shirleen went on.

“Or Perrier?” Marjorie offered.

“Vodka?” Shirleen continued.

“It is against protocol to offer alcoholic beverages to witnesses,” Marjorie snapped.

Shirleen glared at her. “They aren’t witnesses. They’re victims.”

“We aren’t victims. We solved the case,” Willow said.

Everyone looked at us.

“Hold,” Javi grunted.

“Until the others get here,” Gabe rumbled.

Good plan. We didn’t want to have to repeat our story to everyone.

“Actually, I could use a Perrier,” I said.

“I’ll get it!” Marjorie almost shouted.

Shirleen didn’t horn in on that.

Marjorie bustled out of the room.

I looked to Javi. “I’m fine, honey.”

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