Fixed by L. A. Kornetsky

So, what’s up? Do they know what’s the wrongness?”
    â€œSomething about missing money,” she said, not bothering to ask how he knew why they were there. Gossip went both ways, after all. “I don’t know more than that yet.”
    The bulldog snorted and put his head back down. “Money. Money ain’t what’s wrong here, puppy.”
    â€œThat’s what the humans are worried about.”
    â€œYeah, well, humans don’t know shit. They never do.”
    Georgie whined a little, deep in her throat, but cut it off when Ginny looked over her shoulder at the two dogs, having caught the sound. She wagged her tail so her human would know everything was all right, and waited until they went back to talking with the woman at the desk.
    â€œThey’ll figure it out. We have to let them catch the scent, is all.”
    When the older bulldog merely harrumphed, clearly unimpressed with human noses, Georgie added, to herself, “or Penny will find a way to tell them.”

4
    T eddy had expected that they would wait in the bullpen area for Este to finish her call, but instead Nora herded them through the open office and back to the front desk. Soft music was playing over speakers now, and there was a large reddish-black dog of unknown breed lying on the rug near the battered sofas. Teddy assumed, since there were no other humans around yet, that it was one of the shelter dogs given a run of the place. It certainly seemed to have made itself at home, only lifting its head enough to check out the newcomers.
    â€œAll right, before we go into the kennels, we need to do some basic paperwork,” Nora said, clearly channeling her best memory of a second-grade teacher. “Can I have your driver’s licenses, please?”
    â€œOur what?” Ginny raised one blond eyebrow and cocked her head as though Nora had just asked them for a cheek swab or something.
    â€œYour licenses. Or any other form of government-approved identification, et cetera, et cetera. We need to have them on file, before we can let you into the kennel area.”
    Ginny apparently decided that was reasonable, because she dropped Georgie’s leash and started digging into her bag. “At ease, Georgie.”
    The shar-pei let out a sigh and wandered off to touch noses with the other dog, settling down next to it the way she did when tied up outside Mary’s.
    â€œWhy do you need our identification?” he asked, even as he pulled out his own wallet. “I mean, we’re just walking through, not actually working for you or anything.” He meant it to sound casual, but it came out a little sharp.
    â€œIt’s a security measure, don’t worry,” the receptionist said, clearly used to reassuring people about that. She took the pieces of plastic and slid them under the copier’s lid, pushing a button and letting the copier do its thing. “Like Ms. Rees said, anyone who goes into the kennel area has to be officially identified. Silly, really, but there are rules. So, are you looking for another dog, or maybe a cat? We have a bunch of cats that are really good with dogs.”
    â€œThey’re here to scope out the place for a new donor,” Nora said before he could head off any attempts to steer him toward adoption. “A potential new donor, anyway, so we want to give them every courtesy!” She made her eyes wide with excitement, and her braids danced when she nodded her head. Someone had clearly taught her the textbook mannerisms to convey enthusiasm. On her, it almost looked natural. “And yes, we’re hoping to convince them to bring home a new friend while they’re at it.”
    The hell they were, but he bit that back and just smiled at the women, promising nothing. Nora had turned on thechirpy, slightly ditzy charm to match the receptionist’s, making Ginny wince noticeably before she smiled back, too, clearly remembering that they were