‘Get your things together,’ he told Monica in a terse monotone. ‘Be quick about it.’
She stared at him whitely.
‘Don’t even think about arguing. If there’s any sort of trouble-’ he raised his voice as he said this, for the benefit of those listening, ‘I’ll start cracking heads.’
The shadow in the interior of the house withdrew itself at these words, causing the girl to look hopeful for the first time.
Chief Inspector Lorne Michaels glanced at his watch once more and frowned. He was sitting on a chair in the kitchen, as was his wont as his wife prepared supper, about to read the paper and sipping coffee. His wife did not see this as any sort of imposition. The both of them thoroughly enjoyed each other’s company, even after twenty-one years of marriage.
Lorne no sooner began looking about and patting pockets when his wife tacity came over and retrieved his glasses from their perch on his head. She smiled with fond ire as he cleared his throat in good-natured annoyance.
‘That’s odd! What’s Davie about tonight? He’s never this late.’
Marion shrugged, opened the oven door and removed whatever it was that smelled so good to the table.