I made coffee and indulged in shooting whipped cream from the can straight into my mouth for breakfast. “Sarah Booth, whipped cream will go right to your hips.” I nearly choked on a huge gob of Reddi-wip as I whirled around to confront Tinkie. She’d entered without alerting me or my critters. Chablis, her lionhearted Yorkie, was right at her feet, looking at me like I was the social equivalent of a Snopes. “I’m hungry and there’s nothing to eat.” Why did I feel the need to explain my actions? I was a grown woman. I could eat like a savage if I wanted. Tinkie tapped her high-fashion boot. She was stunningly turned out in stiletto lace-up boots, skinny jeans, and a plush teal top that made her blue eyes pop. “Let’s go to Millie’s,” she said. “Oscar dropped me off to pick up the Caddy, and I’m free for the morning. I have a massage at one. Since we haven’t officially begun Scott’s case, I thought I’d pamper myself.” I licked a stray swirl of whipped cream from the back of my hand.
