I stepped back, so he could get by, and he lugged that bag all the way to the kitchen, after I pointed the way.

Russell opened his eyes, lying on his bed of blankets, but he didn’t make a sound.

Greer thanked the policeman sweetly, and he returned to parking lot duty.

“Thanks,” I said to Greer, with some amazement, taking in the bag. It was gourmet stuff, with a snooty-looking poodle preening on the front—one hundred percent organic and human grade.

In other words, if money got tight, Russell and I could share rations.

Greer smiled, pleased by my obvious gratitude, but her eyes were puffy, and her nostrils seemed chapped. She stood there in my kitchen, looking like a butterfly with one bent wing.

“How much do I owe you?” I asked. My purse was sitting on the counter, and I reached for it.

“Don’t be silly,” Greer scolded. “You can’t begin to afford it.”

I grinned. This was the Greer I knew. Plus, she hadn’t italicized anything.

Russell stretched, yawning, and got off the blanket pile to sniff at the kibble bag, then Greer’s ankles.

“Sit down,” I told my sister, taking charge. “I’ll make you some tea.”

Something shifted in Greer. She nodded in acquiescence, looking as delicate and uncertain as she’d sounded on the phone, and plunked herself into the nearest chair.

I put the kettle on to boil, scrounged up a couple of tea bags and dished up some fancy grub for Russell, setting a bowl of water down alongside it. All that time, Greer said nothing. She merely looked on, as if she’d never seen a dog crunching kibble before.

“Okay,” I said, when the tea was ready and I’d taken the chair across from Greer’s. “What brings you to Bad-Ass Bert’s in the middle of the night?”

Greer fidgeted, licked her lips and looked me straight in the eye.

I waited, uneasy again.

“I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars,” my sister said, “if you can prove my husband is fooling around.”

Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN

I BLINKED, PEERING at Greer. “Did you just say you were willing to pay me ten grand to prove the doc is cheating on you?”

Greer bit her lower lip and nodded.

“For that much money,” I said, still recovering, “I’d set him up myself.”

“I’m hoping he’s not being unfaithful to our wedding vows,” Greer said tersely. “And my trust in you had better not be misplaced.”

There she went, italicizing again. “Right,” I said.

Russell farted, unabashed.

“Good God!” Greer bolted from her chair, cheeks bulging with a thwarted exhalation, and hoisted the kitchen window open. Cop voices murmured below, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying.

“Why me?” I asked, of a largely disinterested universe.