All characters except for NELSON and JOE belong to Bruno Heller.
Joe on a Wine & Whitewater trip in El Dorado County, James Bond type espionage at work; Osvaldo and the secret stalker, Jane and his silver-bucket…..at least she wasn't bored. Tasseled loafers ? How come she never noticed ? Trust Jane to fixate on something like that. She smiled, she and Jane had finally broken bread and though things would never return to the way they were; they had common ground. She had to stop being so sensitive; she was no longer the boss.
It seems she had bosses; the last being Jane. So this is what he was like before RED JOHN. A major pain and loving all the attention. She didn't know if she should be insulted or happy at Jane's shocked expression when she said she had a date. Well it won't be long before she had a real date...Oh Yeah….the Osvaldo date trick had worked on Joe. He was NOT a happy camper. Too bad...he deserved payback for making her worry. Poor Osvaldo; all that undeserved hate from her hunky blonde Brit.
She had enjoyed her girl-chat with Grace…..huh….girl-chat….where did that come from? What is with that girl anyway ?…...Jane & Joe...they were poles apart and besides; she had Joe at least she thinks she has. Jane would never ever look at her that way; to Jane she was Dr Watson to his Sherlock. Friendship…..that was all they had...nothing else and she wanted nothing more. She was looking forward to her long luxurious soak in the bath, pepperoni pizza, a glass of wine and bed.
She wanted to beat him senseless, knock him out, shoot him; anything to wipe that smirk off his face. 3am and he's lounging on her couch with NELSON, the jack russell from the dog shelter. Blessed mary mother of God save her from these overgrown schoolboys and their antics. Stupid jackass Brit had driven nearly 2000 miles, 21 hours….come on….who drives 21 hours when they can fly….Oh wait….Joe does and here he is like a cat with a dish of cream. Nelson doesn't seem worse for wear either, his tail wagging as he stretched out next to his master. He nearly gave her a heart-attack pounding on her door as if the world was about to end. She had whipped out her glock, pulled open the door dressed only in her well-worn football jersey with curlers in her hair to be greeted by…"Oh you're a sight for sore eyes love, I'm not interrupting anything am I?". She should have punched him there and then only she didn't want to scar poor Nelson for life. Wasn't his fault his master was a mad Englishman...or was that Mad dogs and Englishmen ?