Put my feet up on the desk. Finally, had a bit of room to twinkle the toes, case files closed and the beers chilled and had the flip-flops on loose and was just stone kickin’ it when she walked in. What do they call those types again? oh yeah, trouble. With a capital R. And three e’s. That’s right, tRoubleee. She was definitely all that. And maybe more. But if there’s wackily spelled word for what that is, I don’t know it. She said she had some grief in her life, someone had her standing on the wrong side of blackmail road and she needed an ugly toad with a gun and conscience to help her across the street. Guess that meant me. Oh lucky day. Thankfully her money was cold and hard as her body was warm and soft, that’ll get me outta bed six days outta seven, only the breakfast buffet at Gord’s Feedbag gets me up Sundays. So I took her case. Bad idea? Definitely. But I’ve got bills to pay and a liver to kill so I kicked off the flip-flops and put on the brogues. Time to gummy up the shoes.