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“We won’t bother telling him about whatever this was,” she said, gesturing at Riley and her cohorts. “As long as you never encourage him to review his payroll.”

The chef reappeared with a tumbler full of liquor. He splashed most of it on Ingram’s chest and sleeve, then positioned the glass in the unconscious man’s grip.

“We were never here,” Riley agreed.

“Are there any security cameras that we need to worry about?” Josie asked.

The chef shook his head. “Mr. Theodoric prefers not to have his indiscretions recorded.”

“Thank fuck for us,” Josie muttered.

The housekeeper frowned at Mrs. Penny, who was now spinning the club like a baton, and Mr. Willicott, who had taken his shoes off and was walking through the mulch barefoot. “Who are they?” she asked.

“It’s probably better if you don’t know,” Riley said, taking the club from Mrs. Penny and handing it back to the housekeeper.

“We’ll just be getting out of your hair,” Jasmine said.

“Hang on,” Riley said. “I can’t in good conscience leave those dogs here with him.”

“Take ’em with you,” the housekeeper said and shrugged. “They’ve been yapping their little brains out since Mr. Ingram threw his ex out a month ago. They’re her dogs.”

“We’ll tell him he passed out with the door open and they got out,” the chef said.

“Thanks. And good luck with retirement and your restaurant,” Riley said.

“What do you say, Chef? Let’s order some surf and turf DoorDash on Mr. Ingram’s account and call it a day?” the housekeeper asked as Riley and company headed for the front of the house.

23

3:19 p.m. Saturday, November 2

“Go potty in the yard right now,” Riley ordered when they returned home and exited Jasmine’s car.

Burt looked up at her with soulful doggy eyes and a muzzle saturated in a red wine reduction.

“Don’t give me that look. You ate an entire roast. I don’t want your rear end anywhere near the furniture when that bill comes due,” she insisted.

With a grumble, Burt trotted off into the trees, taking his two new four-legged friends—who hadn’t stopped yapping the entire car ride—with him.

“Nicky is going to flip when he finds out you stole two more dogs,” Josie predicted before shoving a saltine in her mouth.

“I didn’tstealthem. I temporarily took possession of them so we could return them to their rightful owner,” Riley said. “And I didn’t steal Burt either. I liberated him and then he refused to get out of my car.”

“Besides, Nick’s not allowed to flip out over anything for a while. He incurred a hell of a lot of relationship debt tracking down Kellen’s sister, Beth,” Jasmine said as they crunched through the fallen leaves.

The cops were gone, leaving behind tire ruts, crime scene tape, and trampled landscaping.

Riley wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think we do that score-keeping thing.”

“Seriously? How else do you know who’s winning?” Jasmine asked.

“I’m starting to get why you’re so hot and yet so single,” Josie observed.

Mrs. Penny’s minivan rolled into the driveway with Lil Nas X blasting from the open windows. The van came to an abrupt stop, and the purple-haired problem causer and her confused compadre exited the vehicle, each holding greasy fast-food bags.

“I thought I told you to come straight home,” Riley said.

“Can’t expect us to narrowly avoid death and not stop for a midafternoon snack,” Mrs. Penny said.