3 Time to Steele Read Online Free PDF

business address we culled from the gogre’s paws was close enough to Gill’s Repossessions that we decided to walk, saving the department a few coppers on the monthly transportation budget. Besides, it was a beautiful day. Cool and crisp, with the city’s summer scents of sweat and warm garbage having been whisked away on the arms of the wind.
    All around us, people took advantage of the weather while they could, chatting on terraces, sipping coffee at cafes, and snacking on meat pies purchased from unlicensed mobile food carts. Soon enough, the bitter winds of winter would arrive, driving people back into their homes and making my complaints about the summer heat seem unfounded in comparison.
    Hints of butter and rosemary tickled my nose as we passed a trio of dissimilar ethnic pasty carts, awakening my salivary glands and stomach in quick succession.
    “You know, we should probably stop and grab something to eat,” I said. “It’s about that time.”
    Shay gave me a halfhearted roll of her eyes. “You always think it’s time to eat.”
    Rodgers chimed in. “As true as that may be…”
    “You’re hungry, too?” asked Shay.
    Rodgers shrugged. “We didn’t have much in the house this morning. Breakfast consisted of a slice of wheat bread and a glass of milk.”
    “Just bread?” I said. “Not even toast? You should file a civil complaint against Allison.” She was Rodgers’ wife.
    “I’m trying to get back into her good graces, not end up like you, Daggers.”
    “Ouch.” I held a hand over my heart. “Fair enough. I admit it was mostly my own incompetence that led my marriage past the point of no return.”
    “Mostly?” said Steele.
    I gave her the evil eye before turning my gaze back to Rodgers. “Anyway, what are you trying to atone for?”
    “The usual,” said Rodgers. “Staying at work too late. Snapping at the kids when it’s been a rough day. That sort of thing.”
    Rodgers’ problems sounded like a carbon copy of mine while I’d been married to Nicole, except I knew when Rodgers left the office, and he wasn’t anywhere near as much of a workaholic as I’d been during the period that preceded my divorce.
    “Don’t take that first one for granted,” I said. “Spending time with your family is more important than any job. I think even the Captain would agree with that.”
    Shay looked at me with a smile on her lips, the kind that said she was about to hit me with a verbal jab but that, secretly, she admired what I’d said. “You know Daggers, for as often as you head home early, I have a hard time believing you ever burned the midnight oil to the point where it interfered with your marriage.”
    “That just shows I’ve learned my lesson,” I said. “And before you say it, the fact that I have no family at home to return to anymore is immaterial. It’s a lifestyle choice. Reduces stress.”
    Shay snickered. She appeared to be in a good mood, so I pressed my luck and suggested grabbing as a to-go option for our lunch some of the freshly baked beef- and cheese-filled pockets of goodness we’d passed our noses across. Normally, Shay would’ve declined. She was a stickler for finer dining—plated meals that weren’t complete without garnishes and sprinkles of spices and herbs and drizzled sauces. I, on the other hand, much preferred the simply glory of the sandwich and its many close relatives, namely wraps, calzones, and pasties, in whatever language or form they came.
    In an act of magnanimousness, Shay allowed us to stop and fill up on street food, but probably only because she knew Rodgers shared my culinary sensibilities. She also insisted we pitch in and buy a bag of pasties for Quinto. Given he’d grudgingly taken on the loathsome bank run, that seemed like a fair trade. I snagged a few beef and raisin filled pockets for myself, then filled a bag with an assortment for Quinto, everything from ham and cheese to potato and salted cod—a combination I personally