Page 260

I was on my way to investigate his house last night when he drove past me and accidentally took me on a stakeout. Which was fun and productive, despite whatever grumpy Roman says.

I learned several important things for my next venture with him. Because there will be a next one.

First, Roman takes surveillance very seriously. Gummy bears are apparently too loud for professional espionage.

Second, he likes beef jerky even when he says he doesn't.

Third, I need a better pee bottle. Something that’s wider than a small water bottle opening.

Honestly, the evening was educational.

Who knows how long he’ll be watching that house. Hopefully for several hours.

Either way, I stopped by my house, grabbed Alibi, and here we are.

Just in case Alibi gets bored, I grabbed my iPad and put Tubi on it so he can watch Scooby-Doo.

I stare at Roman’s house from inside my car. It's not particularly exciting. Two stories. Gray siding. White trim. Small front porch. Attached garage.

Nothing about it says A hitman lives here.

Then again, I don't know what a hitman's house is supposed to look like. It probably wouldn’t have a giant neon sign saying MURDERER LIVES HERE on the roof. That would be counterproductive.

Alibi shifts in the passenger seat.

“No. I can’t have you come inside for this.”

His tail thumps.

“This is advanced surveillance.”

He looks at me with big brown eyes. My chest tightens.

“Don't.”

His tail thumps harder.

“You're too recognizable.”

He sneezes.

“Exactly. Everyone knows you now. You’re Instagram famous.”

That's probably not true. Not everyone knows Alibi.

But Roman knows of him. And if he comes home and sees Alibi wandering around his house, I'm going to have a difficult time explaining why my dog is committing a felony. I already have enough problems explaining why I'm committing one.

Not that I'm committing a felony. Probably. I should Google that.

I pick up my phone but hesitate. Some things are better left unknown.

I put it back down.

Alibi rests his chin on the edge of his car seat.

“Don't look at me like that.”

His eyes remain on mine.