Mrs. Ruiter announced when she spotted Detective Powers. “I hope you’ll give me the tour. Puffy wants one too. I promise, she won’t piddle on anything. Not like a boy dog lifting its leg on everything. Girl dogs are usually pretty polite that way, although I’m so sorry she had a little accident. That nice young man over there cleaned it up.” She waggled her fingers at the nice young man; he pretended not to notice. “Anyway, even though I haven’t seen much yet, it’s a fascinating place. Good people watching. I must say, you’re the handsomest man I’ve seen so far. I’ve been watching. Not flirting or anything, way too old for that, just telling the truth. Long past my flirting days. How are you, Detective? Gosh, I like saying that word. I’ve told everybody I know a detective. Old hat to you, a course, but not to me.” Dave didn’t have to say a thing in greeting. Mrs. Ruiter had that rare condition wherein the brain is cabled directly to the mouth. The flood of words continued, but finally, when seated beside Dave’s desk, Mrs.
