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Story: The Lemon Drop Kid

I took my drink from Malcolm. “Where’s the Gang of Four?” Astrid and Malcolm had four hunting dogs: Sadie, Samson, Skipper, and Shorty.

“In the kennel.” Malcolm looked apologetic. “They’re out of control without Astrid here.”

No doubt they missed Astrid, but they were older dogs. Compared to Freyja they were sane and sober members of society.

“You’re kidding.”

He shook his head.

I was genuinely shocked. The Gang of Four were hunting dogs, but they were also house dogs. They’d spent their entire lives inside.

Malcolm probably read a lot of that in my face because he said defensively, “The kennels are spacious, insulated, and they have each other for company. Those four dogs live better than a lot of people in this county.”

“I’m just surprised.” But also horrified. It was a lot of dogs for the Gingerbread House, but I was wondering if I could bring them in with me at night. Would Malcolm take offense?

“Drink okay?” Malcolm asked.

“Oh.” I took a sip of the watery whisky. I was not a fan of whisky, watery or not. Raleigh had liked whisky, though, on the special occasions he’d attended with me. “Sure.”

Malcolm returned to the sofa. I sat in a chair across from him. “Did you see Mike Baer this afternoon?”

The law firm of Baer, Baer and Baer had represented the legal interests of the Bredahls for nearly as long as the Bredahls had legal interests. Needless to say, the Baers had not been representing me in the sordid upcoming case of homicide.

“No. Was I supposed to?”

Malcolm seemed surprised. “I assumed that’s where you went today.”

“I told you I was looking for Freyja.”

“Of course. But I assumed you’d want to speak to Baer as soon as possible.”

“I was looking forward to a daywithouttalking to a lawyer.”

Malcolm gave a short laugh. “I can imagine. Well, there’s no mystery. Everything is yours. This house. The company. You know that.” His shrug was all-encompassing.

Yes, I suppose I did know. I hadn’t thought about it. It’s not like taking charge of anything was high on my list of priorities. I’d barely had a chance to figure out what my next move was beyond finding Freyja. For God’s sake, yesterday morning I’d woken up in a jail cell. I needed a little time to acclimate.

But I nodded.

Malcolm said with an attempt at lightness, “Let me know, when you want me to vacate the premises.”

“Is that a serious question?”

His expression was wry. “It has to be asked.”

“No, it doesn’t. Of course I don’t want you out. This is your home.”

He stared into the fire for a moment, and said quietly, “I’m not sure I can go on living here without her.”

That was a different matter entirely, and I had no answer.

Malcolm looked up from the flames, studied me. His handsome face seemed troubled. “I know this is all hitting you hard, Caz, but had you thought about—”

I knew what was coming.

“Malcolm, I haven’t thought about anything as far as the company is concerned. Aren’t we on Christmas break?”

“Monday.”