Izzy called Grunge from the street outside of the Dingler house in Van Nuys.
“Greene. You’re on speaker. I’m in the truck with Shayla.”
“Yo, Grunge,” Izzy said. “Last night’s quake was nothing compared to the shaking going on today in the SpecOps world with the news that you’re—”
“You’re on speaker,” Grunge repeated, louder this time, interrupting him.
“And withthat,you’re implying Shayla doesn’t know,” Izzy said.
“Doesn’t know what?” he heard Shay say. Her voice was thin because she wasn’t in front of the Bluetooth mic.
“Zanella,” Grunge warned. He came in plenty loud. Probably because he was on the verge of shouting.
“Feel free to go all officer on my ass,sir,but you just might want to talk your potential resignation through with your girlfriend. I’m just saying.”
“Resignation?” Shay said. “Oh, my God, isthatwhy you went to the Navy Base today?”
“I went to float the idea,” Grunge admitted. “Nothing’s been decided. Zanella, are you calling for a reason other than you simply wanted to fuck up my day worse than it was already fucked up?”
“Sir, yes, sir,” Izzy said. “When I arrived at the Dingler house in Van Nuys, the owners were home, much to my great surprise. Hey, it’s both a reportanda poem. Huh. I wonder if I can work incan’t believe my eyesand/orI donned my disguise.”
“The owners are home?” Grunge demanded.
“Mr. and Mrs. James and Mary Dingler,” Izzy said. “We had a little tête-à-tête, and it’s been a full year since they’ve seen their wayward son, Richard. Judging from Jim Dingler’s heavy scowls and mumbling growls—ooh, I did it again!—it’s unlikely our boy Dingo’s going to be bringing his seriously underage girlfriend around for a visit with Mummy and Daddy any time soon.”
“Did you warn them about—”
“I did,” Izzy said. “Mr. D seemed positively psyched at the idea he might have to fight off a home invasion. I think he was hoping to rack up a body count. Mrs. D was significantly less thrilled.”
“I bet,” Shay said.
“I also asked them to call you if their son—or anyone who might want to murder their son—did appear.”
“Good,” Grunge said. “Thanks.”
“So, whaddaya want me to do now, G?” Izzy asked. “I’m parked on the street and I can sit here, watching the house, for as long as you need me to. I just think it’s a waste of time.”
“I agree,” Grunge said. “Get back to San Diego.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“And Z?”
“Ooh! Ooh! Let me guess! Let me guess!” Izzy said.“Fuck you?”
“Sideways,” Grunge agreed.
“Awesome! Thanks, and you’re welcome, sir!” Izzy sang cheerfully as the lieutenant cut the call. He got into his truck and headed south to San Diego.
“Grunge,” Shayla said as Pete ended the call with Izzy Zanella.
He glanced at her as they drove relentlessly north, with the sun starting to set out the left window of his truck. “Yeah.”
“It’s your nickname,” Shay said. “Like Seagull or Timebomb.”
“It is.”
“OrDingo.”
