Otter Under Fire Read Online Free PDF

self-satisfied. Of course he and Defray hate each other.”
    “Are you sure he’s a Mormon? Mormon’s are usually nice.”
    “Yeah it baffles me too.”
    “And is he good at his job?”
    Otter thought for a moment. “A couple of years ago, he was working on the floor as a shift lead and I really didn’t like him then. I definitely would have said he was terrible at his job. If there was something screwed up, Clark or one of his people was behind it. I’d bitch about it, but he’d just give me that superior, dopey grin because he knew there wasn’t much I could do about it.” She bit into her ham and turkey salad and chewed thoughtfully. “And when he did inspection he was a total flyspeck inspector. [5] I couldn’t get anything shipped.”
    “What fun,”
    “And then he got sick, really sick. Everyone thought he was going to die.”
    “What happened to him?”
    “He got some form of lung cancer—and the guy doesn’t even smoke. We lost touch with him for about a year and then he showed up at the shop. He said he was in remission.” She spooned some kind of healthy broccoli and raisin salad on her plate. “Clark was physically weak; he wouldn’t have been able to work on the shop floor, so the boss offered him the sales position that just came open. He could work at a desk and he had a flexible schedule. He took the job.”
    “Sad day for you,”
    “You know he blossomed in that position and really hit his stride. I realized I had never appreciated him before. He knew the processes and was able to do pricing and quoting like nobody else. He had run a lot of those parts and materials when he was working on the floor. He really became a company asset. This is a good thing because I have to work with him more than I used to.”
    Otter sighed and said: “I should write a book about assholes. Oh and speaking of assholes, let me tell you about the fountain guy.” She told Tempest about the plastic tubes.
    “You know, sometimes people just suck.” Tempest said when Otter was finished. “You know darn well he wouldn’t have pulled that if a man had been there.”
    “True enough, but I think the shock did him some good.”
    “It must have felt quite satisfying.”
    “It did. I just hope he finishes the fountain in the time he promised.”
    “While we are talking about assholes, I have a story you won’t believe.” Tempest told Otter about her financial planner in the skimpy outfit. Otter choked on a slice of tomato.
    “And there is one thing that is just bugging me now.” Tempest said.
    “You want to know how to make your asshole blue.”
    “Not only that, but I’m also wondering what other colors they have.”
    The sound of motorcycles roared up the street and ended in front of their house.
    “Oh no, they’re early!” Tempest jumped up from the table.
    “Who’s early?”
    “Oh my motorcycle club, we’re going up to Jerome for the Labor Day weekend. Would you mind cleaning up?”
    “Not at all, since you brought home the food.”
    Tempest flashed Otter a grin as she ducked into her room. It was only a matter of a few minutes and Otter heard the big motorcycle in Tempest’s garage roar to life.
    Otter had her own plans for the evening. Shortly thereafter, the leftovers were in the fridge and the kitchen was clean. She got herself changed into a sparkling dress and dancing shoes and headed out for a night of Salsa at a new club over in Glendale.
    Otter squinted out into the back yard. “I need a boyfriend who likes to dance,” she said.
    “We’ll just add that to your list,” Susan said, sipping a frothy orange beverage that Otter whipped up. They were having Sunday brunch on the patio overlooking the pool and unfinished waterfall. Susan Kincaid was petite, blond and deceptively cute. When she was not wearing her uniform, nobody would guess that she was a sheriff’s deputy, a k-9 officer and a black belt in a myriad of martial arts. Susan’s dad worked at AzTech and her husband was