Knew of my father. Knew he was a Homicide dick.Didn’t like either one of us.“He’s asleep, cunt.”I ignored him and opened the door. Columbo kne... better than to fuck with me. Well, with my father. I’d been inside this house three other times on various unpleasant business endeavors. It still surprised me how clean Harold had his girls keep it. It shone, gleamed. I imagined the surpassed fury as the girls scrubbed, polished, vacuumed, dusted every day, seven days a week. It smelled of lemon. They did have a winery for several million dollars, but Rob was certainly not a customer for that. When he enquired about river side property they looked at him blankly. We took several pages of listings and another local map, but it was clear that "No Sale" had been rung up.We drove to Mary's the "short way," and Rob asked about the boat, the oars and the fishing gear. "Everything's in the shed" was the response. None of us had even noticed the shed at the edge of the clearing. Mary found the. More

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