Page 61 of Death on Gallows Path

That raised my hopes. Only to crash with her next words.

“—the tic-tac-toe game.”

She didn’t stop, though.

“Going at each other about who’d done better. Back and forth, back and forth. As if their dogs had been the stars of that or anything else in class.”

She sniffed with disdain.

She couldn’t possibly think her dogs were the stars. Really, she couldn’t and have any connection with reality.

“Nothing more personal?” Clara asked.

Berrie homed in on that with feral curiosity. “Personal, like what?”

Clara backpedaled with the skill of a tightrope cyclist. “Oh, nothing specific. I only thought since they’re such good friends there might have been something . . . else.”

“Friends. Hah. Couldn’t tell it from that wrangle. Went from tic-tac-toe to stuff about playing games. I am not repeating the language they used, I’ll tell you that.” Berrie frowned. “That was weird, because it was like it was about something other than Damon and Zoley.”

“What do you mean, Damon and Zoley?” Clara asked.

Another sniff of disdain from Berrie, this one for such naivete. “That they’re having an affair, of course. Been going on for months. Everybody knows that.”

“Have you seen—?”

“Don’t need to.”

So, no, she hadn’t seen anything.

Clara looked over her shoulder. “Oh, what are those rascals doing—? Sorry, Berrie, gotta check on our dogs.”

I followed Clara away from the fence and Berrie, considering the crumbs she’d given us.

“Not much,” I said under my breath.

“It would explain why Bryon Georger’s attitude was so different from the first class. But why was Damon Swindell so cranky? He was the one having the affair. Because he was caught? And that meant the end of his fun?”

“Did it, though? Or would they keep on?”

Clara side-eyed me. “They’d keep on. If Damon was still interested. Not at all a sure thing with this other woman making an appearance. We’ve got to find out who she is.”

* * * *

The good thing about the sunset dog park visit was it took up a chunk of the evening.

Enough that I could tell myself there wasn’t enough time left to make it worthwhile to try to write.

Even though Teague wasn’t calling tonight because of a conference event that was going late — too late for him, not me. But since it takes both of us for a conversation, he’d told me last night he’d call Sunday night.

He’d also chuckled when I asked if the event involved exotic dancers and fans. He said, no, it was his only slot available to attend a demonstration of new forensic technology, so he’d be spending the time at a nearby lab.

Some people have all the fun.

I called Kit.

Dangerous, I know, what with her first question most likely to be why wasn’t I writing.

It wasn’t.