Doghouse Read Free

into his right, his expression open and attentive. It worked wonders on the drunks who unburdened themselves to him on a regular basis, but Seth didn’t seem to notice.
    â€œMe, too?” Ginny asked, just to make sure.
    â€œYeah, you, too, Blondie,” Seth growled. Whatever it was he wanted to talk about, he wasn’t happy about it. “I want to hire you.”
    It took a lot, at this point in his life, to leave Theodore Johan Tonica dumbfounded. Seth had just managed it. “You want to what?”
    The old man growled slightly. “You heard what I said.”
    â€œI heard, I just wanted to make sure I heard right. I might have been hallucinating.” Teddy realized, even as the words came out of his mouth, that joking wasn’t theway to go. The old man looked as unhappy—and as uncomfortable—as he’d ever seen him, and that was saying something. Even Ginny had picked up on it, her professional “I’m trained, I can help you” expression firmly in place, but her hazel eyes widened with shock.
    â€œYou mean, as investigators?”
    â€œNo, as a bartender. Of course as an investigator.” Seth might be uncomfortable, but he wasn’t at a loss for snark. “I need the two of you to look into something for me.”
    â€œAh. Um.” Bartenders learned to roll with the punches, verbal or otherwise, but this had caught him off guard. Seth, asking for their help? “You know we’re not licensed, or anything like that, right? I mean, maybe . . .”
    â€œIf I wanted to go to someone else—if I could go to someone else—I would’ve. You in, or not?”
    â€œTell us what this is about, and we can tell you if we can help you.”
    Teddy noted with relief that Ginny had learned that much at least: she no longer leaped in with a promise to make everything better before she learned what “everything” was. That was good, because while every instinct Teddy had was telling him to say yes, that anything that made Seth ask a favor had to be serious, the reality was that anything that drove Seth to ask a favor had to be serious. He’d already said—several times—that he wasn’t interested in continuing this “researchtigations” thing Ginny had dragged him into, much less get involved in a friend’s problems that required such help. . . .
    â€œI’m asking for a friend,” Seth started, and then shot them both a glare. “Shut it. I am.”
    Both of them kept their expressions serious and intent, although Ginny’s lips twitched slightly with repressed laughter, her shock fading to interest.
    â€œAnd?” she asked.
    â€œA friend of mine, old friend from my boxing days. He’s getting screwed over by his landlord. Bastard’s throwing him out of the house he was renting, claims he’s doing something illegal and that invalidates the lease. Bullshit accusations, but he’s . . . Deke’s a good guy but he took a few too many hits and not enough mat, if you know what I mean.”
    â€œPunch drunk?”
    â€œWhatever they’re calling it now. He’s a little slow, but he’s a good guy, good heart, probably doesn’t even jaywalk ’cause he knows it’s wrong. But you don’t want to put him up against some suit of a lawyer, someone’d make him look like a fool. Deke’d come out badly. And the thing is,” Seth hesitated a moment. “Deke needs to stay in this house. He’s been there for years, it’s familiar, and he needs that familiarity. You understand?”
    Teddy thought maybe he did. An older man, not entirely there, suddenly homeless? That was a recipe for a fast decline and a bad ending.
    â€œWhat do you want us to do?” he asked, resigning himself to the inevitable.
    â€œHell if I know, whatever it is you do. I just want proof the landlord’s a lying sack of scum, so we can