“Thank you for your time,” Riley said quickly. “If I have any other questions, how can I reach you?”
The woman gave her a funny look and reached into her apron pocket. She produced a cell phone. “You may call me.”
“Oh, right. Of course. If I have any more questions, I’ll call you.”
The shrill sound of the fire alarm cut them off.
Riley had a bad feeling about this. “I’d better get back inside—”
The door burst open again, and Mrs. Penny charged through it. She had a smoothie in one hand and Burt’s leash in the other. Burt’s Public Safety Vest was now around his waist, and he had a length of bratwurst clutched in his mouth. Gabe followed with a bag of vegetables, a plate of tacos, and half an apple pie in his arms.
Customers and vendors poured out of the building after them.
“Let’s hit the road before the five-oh show up,” Mrs. Penny called as she hustled toward the Jeep.
“I don’t even want to know,” Riley said when they got in the Jeep.
“Floor it,” Mrs. Penny shouted from the passenger seat.
Riley peeled out of the parking lot just as sirens split the air.
“What is that smell, and why is it lingering?” The Jeep’s roof was on, but she’d unzipped the windows for full ventilation. Still, the stench clung to the interior.
“I think it’s your four-legged friend back there,” Mrs. Penny said, slurping on her smoothie. “Might have been the pizza he stole off that toddler.”
“It could have been the bowl of pho,” Gabe guessed.
“Why did you guys feed my dog pizza and pho and bratwurst?” Riley lamented.
“Hey, don’t look at us,” Mrs. Penny said. “Burt was the one who jumped over the counter at the taco place.”
“They did not seem pleased,” Gabe announced, taking a bite out of the pie.
Riley’s phone rang, and she punched the speaker button.
“Where are you, and why do I hear sirens?” Nick snarled.
“We just left the farmers’ market,” Riley said, slipping down a side street just in case.
“The farmers’ market on the police scanner?”
“I’m not sure,” she fibbed.
Mrs. Penny leaned over. “Relax, Santiago. She’s with me. Everything’s fine. We can outrun the bacon.”
It was hard to understand Nick’s response. It sounded like garbled Donald Duck-style swearing and muttered comments that shouldn’t be repeated in polite company.
“Hey, at least she didn’t leave the Jeep at the scene of the crime this time.”
20
12:01 p.m., Sunday, August 16
Nick glared at the Jeep and its occupants when Riley pulled into the mansion’s parking lot.
“What do you have to say for yourselves?” he demanded when they piled out of the vehicle. Burt launched himself at him and slurped Nick right across the face.
“Whoa. Look who got all duded up,” Mrs. Penny said.
