Memories are Murder. Lou Allin

for your patience.” Belle looked around at the many cubicles separated by white curtains. “May I see him?”

      “They took him out half an hour ago for some blood work. I’ll tell him you came by.”

      At the office, Belle noticed by the trademark shepherd snore that Baron was making himself comfortable in the back room. He was quiet and well-behaved, despite his manly assets. Was Yoyo hoping to breed him? That was easier for the owner of a male. One-stop shopping, and a share of the pups. Still, he had a few conformation flaws.

      Yoyo had settled in. The hustling temp had not only helped unload the Adams place, but like a veteran in the trenches, she had cold-called forty people that week, a chore Belle likened to successive root canals, and lined up four eager to sell. Her outfits had toned down. Today featured a tasteful linen dress (high hemline and Lucite platform heels aside), and she’d nearly memorized the stylebook Belle had loaned her.

      “I was still having the worst time with this ‘me’ or ‘I’ stuff with prepositions, until I figured out that if it sounded wrong, it was right,” she said with a comical smile. “Between you and me. Duh.”