"Good morning, Mr. McKinnon. All set?"

Sliding his body into her little SUV wasn't easy and he grunted as he tried to arrange his long legs between the dash and the seat.

"Sure I'm all set. I'm just along for the ride. Remember?" He glanced at her, unsmiling, implacable, giving nothing away. Certainly not friendly!

So that's how it's going to be, she thought, as she pulled away from the curb. We'll see. Glancing sideways, she realized he hadn't fastened his seatbelt and couldn't resist telling him to do so.

"Buckle up, please."

"Is your driving that bad?" No sarcasm, but no humour was evident either.

"My driving record is excellent, but why take a chance? Besides, the fines are heavy."

As he buckled up, she noticed how well dressed he was, and almost giggled aloud when she realized they must look like Mutt and Jeff because his outfit, with the exception of the shirt, was almost the same as hers. Brown slacks with a knife-sharp crease, tan blazer and brown loafers, and almost a foot of difference in their heights.

"Something amusing you, Miss Benson?"

The words were spoken sharply, and Charly realized he might think she was laughing at him, so decided to come clean.

"It just struck me that we might have the same tailor, judging by our appearances. Will anyone believe this wasn't planned?"

"Frankly, I couldn't care less. I'm only concerned with your performance, not your looks."

And that puts me firmly in my place, I guess, she thought to herself. God, what a humourless creature! How does his wife stand it?

Silence reigned for several miles, and it wasn't until they neared Mr. Baker's farm that he broke it.

"I assume you're doing Baker's first?"

At her nod of agreement, he continued, "You know what's required?"

"Check the state of his barn, primarily, and inform him he has one week to complete all necessary repairs, or his policy will be cancelled. Can I ask why it hasn't been done before now?"

"Mainly because we've been without an inspector for some time. But I'm sure you'll manage."

Without looking at him, she could again sense the smugness in his answer. But there was also an undercurrent of bitterness in his voice when he mentioned the former inspector and she wondered briefly about it.

She was lucky - very lucky. Because Mr. Baker was just coming from the barn with a hammer and a fistful of nails as she stepped out of the car.




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