A Breath of Dead Air (The Mysteries of Bell & Whitehouse Book 8) by Nic Saint

gave Rick a kick under the table. If he didn’t comply with Caroline’s wishes, the woman would raise hell. And since she was one of Bell’s best customers, business might suffer if she did. Rick eyed her questioningly, so she hissed, “Just do it already!”
    “I’m not doing it!” he hissed back.
    “Oh, yes, you are!”
    “Oh, no, I’m not!”
    Caroline Loosely eyed this vaudeville with a disapproving expression on her wrinkly face. “Why don’t you two share a diary?” she suggested in a faux-chipper voice. “Couples sharing their most personal issues bond together, and it will do you both a world of good.” She tapped Rick’s nose. “And don’t think I won’t check on you, Ricky Dawson, because I most certainly will!”
    Rick seemed to take offense with the tap on his nose, which was still sore after the Elroy Pomice incident, for he huffed out, “I’m not writing a single word in that silly diary and that’s my final word on the matter. And you can tell the mayor’s wife to—” But before he could utter the offensive words, Caroline had shoved a little piece of paper in his hands. He stared at it dumbly. “What’s this?”
    “That, Ricky Dawson, is a fine. For not complying with the stipulations of the Emotional Diary Program. In accordance with the mayor’s wishes, Chief Whitehouse has granted me temporary police powers. I can write out tickets to people in non-compliance with the program. So now you owe the town kitty fifty dollars.” She wagged a finger in his face. “And next time you refuse, I’ll double it. And again, until you get with the program, young man!”
    Rick sat stunned for a moment, then a resolute look stole over him, and he took the ticket and tore it into little pieces, then threw the resultant confetti in Caroline’s face. “I’m not paying that!” he told her defiantly.
    Caroline’s chin lifted, and she grasped her purse more closely to her body. “Well, I’ll see you in court then, Mr. Dawson. Prepare to be summoned!” Then, remembering she had a job to do, she turned to Bo Vickar. “And what about you, young lady? Are you new in town?”
    “You can say that,” Bo admitted.
    Promptly, Caroline shoved a little booklet into the senator’s daughter’s hands. “Please fill out this diary on a daily basis. We’re working hard to make Happy Bays the happiest place in the USA, and the emotional well-being of our citizenry is an important first step to reach that very lofty goal.”
    And after a last, scathing look at Rick, she turned on her heel and strode off, leaving the four friends and Bo Vickar looking quite stunned.
    “Christ,” Rick groaned. “As if I don’t have enough problems to deal with.”
    “Why didn’t you simply do like me?” Felicity asked, exasperated. “Just accept the silly diary and when she comes asking you just tell her you lost it.”
    “It’s the principle of the thing,” Rick pointed out. “Nobody has the right to demand that I subscribe to some lame-ass theory about mental health! I will see that woman in court and I will make her eat her own diary!”
    Reece laughed at this. “Ha ha. I want to see that. Eat her own diary!”
    The others weren’t laughing, however. What with the president of the United States kidnapping dogs, and Rick being dragged to court by Caroline Loosely, things were starting to look a little grim.
    “Oh, Ricky,” Felicity sighed, kneading her fiancé’s arm. “Why do you always have to be so principled and stubborn?”
    Rick shook off her hand. “Look, we’re facing bigger issues than this loony Loosely woman. Didn’t you hear what Bo just said? The president of the United States is conspiring against Senator Vickar!” Then, as he digested his own words, he broke into a smile. “The US president is conspiring against a US senator!” He licked his lips, and Felicity could see the words forming in his mind as if she possessed Bo’s mind-reading powers: ‘Pulitzer Prize Winning Reporter