First, the hole they cut for the pipes was too small, then too large, then the seal cracked, and on and on the project went—or so I’m told. I don’t have firsthand experience because after watching them for only five minutes, I claimed to be bored. Then I casually expressed a desire to stroll over to the Old Village. Greg grunted a response, but since he was a man involved in a repair project, it meant absolutely nothing. Nor did Booger’s exceptionally loud belch. Still, my conscience was as clear as the sky that morning (which was a lot more than Mama could say). Shem Creek was sparkling in the sunlight, the shrimp boats gently bobbing, the sea grass softly sighing, and at least a dozen other clichés were happening all around me, so that by the time I got out of earshot of grunting Greg and belching Booger, I was feeling pretty chipper. When I got to Royal Street, my spirits were positively buoyant. Of course I was a woman on a mission. The enigmatic Lady Bowfrey was not to be forewarned this time.
