“She only kills on command.”
Stone looked at her askance.
“Just kidding.”
“Go to bed,” Stone said. He watched as she walked ahead of him to the elevator. It was a pleasant sight.
Stone was nearly asleep when he felt Holly sit on his bed. He wasn’t all that sleepy after all, he thought. He reached for her, and his hand found a warm, furry body.
“Go to sleep, Daisy,” he groaned.
Daisy sighed, snuggled against Stone, and settled in for the night.
3
STONE WAS SLEEPING soundly when he was disturbed by a chink, chink sound. He opened an eye and found Holly sitting on his bed in one of his terry cloth bathrobes, eating cereal from a bowl.
“Good morning,” she said. “I made myself some breakfast. Can I get you some?”
Stone pressed the button that made his bed sit up, then rubbed his eyes. “What time is it?”
“Six-fifteen,” she replied.
Daisy, who had been snuggled close to Stone, sat up and yawned.
“Six-fifteen,” Stone repeated tonelessly.
“Too early for you? What time do you normally get up?”
“I wake up around seven, then have some breakfast in bed and read the Times and do the crossword. I usually get out of bed around nine.”
“Lazy guy, huh?”
“I’m not running a police force in a Florida town,” Stone said, “and I don’t have people pounding on my door at the crack of dawn, demanding to see me. It’s one of the advantages of being self-employed.”
Holly nodded. “Guess so. I see Daisy slept with you last night,” she said.
Stone nodded. “Apparently so. You’ll need to avert your eyes while I dash to the bathroom. And doesn’t Daisy have to go out in the mornings, or does she use a flush toilet?”
“She has to go out. And why do I have to avert my eyes?”
“Suit yourself,” Stone said, getting out of bed and walking to the bathroom. When he came back, Holly was still there.
“And don’t forget the plastic bag,” he said, climbing back into bed.
“Plastic bag?”
“For Daisy.”
“You want me to put Daisy in a plastic bag?”
Stone shook his head. “It’s the law in New York that when the dog poops, the owner picks it up and puts it into the nearest trash can. It’s a hundred-dollar fine if you fail to do so. And don’t bring it back into the house.”
“Well, I never,” Holly said. “What’ll they think of next in the big city?” She stood up. “Where do I find a plastic bag?”
“Kitchenette,” Stone said, pointing. “Next to my dressing room; saves an elevator ride at breakfast time.”
Holly went and found a plastic bag. “Guess I’d better shower and get dressed, if we’re going out,” she said to the dog. “Come on, Daisy.”